I had never thought about my existence beyond my all consuming need for vengeance.  Having departed that infernal ship – the scene of my final crime – I sought out the Arctic cold of the north to end my life.  I welcomed the idea of death, the idea of the oblivion waiting for me in the flames. I hid my face from the stars and shunned everything beautiful.
     That there could be something more never occurred to me, that is until the dreams began.
     The first was while I drifted north. I woke suddenly, my stolen heart pounding and a light sheen of sweat coating my flesh. It froze almost immediately, reflecting the sparkling of the stars above me. That night, I remembered nothing but strange architecture – unearthly and coated with green slime. And the voice. It was not even a voice so much as a sensation deep in my sternum, a vibrating sensation that conveyed the feeling of voice. It was in no language that I understood, but it struck me to the core of my being. I knew that I must find the person that belonged to that voice.
      By the third night, I knew where I was going. The disembodied voice conveyed directions, though I cannot tell you how.  I woke each night eager to be on my way, knowing that every moment brought me closer to that presence.  I gladly closed my eyes each night, knowing that I would once again be visited by that strange being that now dominated my thoughts.  I knew I was getting close by the 17th day. The dreams were longer, more vivid.  The stars shone more brightly at night when I woke and the sun's power seemed diluted during the daylight.  
      It was the 21st day when I saw him.  He was the most glorious being I had ever seen, I was defenseless against the power in his gaze. The dream began the same as the others, the soundless chanting filling the air as I wandered through the wrong-side up and left side-right architecture.
      “Cthulhu,” it began, pulsing through me, making my heart race. “Cthulhu fhtagn."
      It repeated, over and over, conveying depths of information in the simple soundings.  I fancied, by then, I could understand the underlying sounds, creating complex thoughts and impulses.  I crawled over a huge stone, what may have been stairs for something much larger than I, and stopped.  He was there, his throat pulsating as the sounds emitted from him into the air.
       He was enormous. My first impression was that he blocked out the sky. My next was that he was the most glorious being that I had ever seen, much more beautiful than anything that Victor could have created for me. His stubby, cuttlefish head with its hundreds of tentacles perched atop a gelatinous body of immense proportions. Arms, ending in flaccid claws were raised above his head, showcasing his wings, the joints formed backwards, making flight impossible. It was none of these things, beautiful as they were, that made my breath catch in my throat. No, it was his eyes. Eyes as deep as the ocean, filled with pain and loneliness.  I longed to touch him, to kiss that pain away.  I felt myself drowning in them.
       When I woke, there were tears on my face. A new urgency filled me as I once again set sail for an island that could not exist.  It did, though. I knew I had arrived before it was visible on the horizon. The atmosphere had a strange, watery feel to it. The sun was muted, the air fetid. I could hear the voice. It vibrated through me, leaving me weak kneed.
       It took the rest of the day to get there, the wind had gone dead nearly as soon as I realized I must be close. Though I have the strength of a hundred men, rowing is slow business.  I pulled my raft onto what may have been a beach at one time, but was now little more than a slimy mire of muck and decay. I left the raft where it fell and turned. I moved on instinct, nothing more. I'd traveled this path a hundred times in my dreams. My body propelled me forward, over obtuse and concave barriers, ever forward.   I knew, when I saw that massive angled rock, that I would soon lay eyes on him.
       For a moment, I hesitated, but only a moment.  When he came into view he was even more glorious than I could have imagined.  He turned as I scrambled over the rock, his fathomless eyes resting on me. There was a new expression in them – hope? I dropped to the ground before him and looked up, impossibly high.  His voice washed through me, taking away everything unimportant and leaving behind acceptance.
       “Ia, Ia,” He intoned. “Cthulhu fhtagn.”
       “I've been searching for you, too.” I whispered in response. I was drowning in his muddy eyes.
       One flaccid claw lowered and scooped me up, bringing me towards his tentacled face. I trembled, though not in fear. When I was level with his face, one of his tentacles reached out and caressed my face tentatively.  I leaned into the touch and breathed in his scent, lightheaded.
       “Wgah'nagl, fhtagn,”
       “I love you, too.” I whispered, finally whole.