Moonlight pierces through clouds, pouring a rippling pearl white stream of light over the sea. Glistening rain plummets into translucent waters, waves expanding to blur a seal’s silhouette slipping through flocks of fish. Their small shadows captivate flickering wings from above– seagulls circle like fighter planes before perfecting their aim and plunging into the icy sea, their claws outstretched and wings tucked in, pillars of bubbles trailing behind their tails. Knife-like beaks stab fish. Streams of scarlet erupt from their scaly bodies, and then the birds burst upwards, as if fire were blossoming from their feathers. They are hungry; they are merciless; they gulp down fish. 

Squawking seagulls wake peaceful penguins. Morning sunlight reflects off their black and white feathers as they descend into the sea’s embrace, ice soaking their coats. Some waddle back up the glaciers after the initial dip, their small webbed feet dangling off the cold, white brink.

Underneath the flat ice, a seal slips through the seaweed bed, its wavy whiskers twitching as it surfaces for air. As the seal glances below, a pack of penguins cluster together, hunting within tornadoes of fish and krill. After noticing a youngling with black flippers drifting away from the others, the seal stalks the small, pudgy figure with a dark coat and small orange feet. 

The baby magellanic penguin chases after a single fish, but the arctic cod ducks away at the last second, darting underneath the penguin’s belly to dodge the flightless bird’s outstretched beak. Frustrated that it has just lost its prey, the penguin fails to spot the gray torpedo above it. 

And then the harp seal strikes. Like a missile. It opens its black mouth, white moonstone daggers enveloping a coral-pink tongue. Hairs from the baby penguin’s fur bristles as it furrows its eyebrows and opens its beak to yell. 

No sound escapes. Just bubbles.

The seal bites down, piercing flesh, breaking bones. But the penguin still lives. It swims away. Tries. Desperate. Not fast enough. 

Blood blooms, ruby red tainting the sapphire water as the seal clamps onto the foot of a baby penguin. A smirk rises from the seal’s face as the fish scramble. It shakes its head. Left. Right. Chomp. Full from its meal, the seal pats his round belly and waves its flippers around, whiskers twitching while it laughs and laughs. 

Below, a shark eye the seal like ticking red timers, hovering above the seafloor like mines, ready to strike, ready to detonate. 

Frolicking underneath the surface, the seal continues to munch on fish, swirling in happy, lazy circles. As it spots the long rough skin of the shark rising, though, the fluke propels upward as the seal suddenly yelps, sprinting towards the surface to escape onto the ice. But the plump, charcoal-dotted seal is not fast enough. With a body shaped like a bullet and scales colored in smoky hues, the shark reveals its teeth-like swords as it surges forward. Upon reaching the ice, the seal lets out a squeal of terror, but it is too late – the shark has already bitten its tail and jerked it underwater. 

Pillars of blood spread like wildfire, even angrier than before. A jaw has snatched away hunks of flesh. Squirming, the seal tries to break free. But it is too late. Bones have sunk. Blood has risen. Flames birth armies of shadows lingering beneath the ice. 

Overhead, the moon recedes until the horizon splits it in half, and nothing can be seen aside from dwindling stars. And emerald, sapphire, and amethyst. Colors frolic across the night sky, painting the Aurora Borealis with wavy lights, swirling and flickering as if it were alive. Slowly, 

the sun emerges from its cocoon, fluttering its pastel wings. As dawn shatters, a fiery rose ascends above with petals emanating radiance and warmth. Nearby, the glacier looks ready to plunge with its cracks flowing like rivers into bloody sunlit saltwater. On the glacier, a mother penguin squeals frantically on an icy ledge, searching for her lost child.