Angel recoiled, but the tentacle was lightning fast, snapping around her calf with practiced precision. Now, the octopus was a bridge between two panicked divers.
The symmetry was haunting—a single creature holding two humans captive in the middle of the Pacific. We were no longer observers; we were part of its environment. I watched as the octopus’s color faded to a pale, ghostly white. In the world of cephalopods, color is emotion, and this sudden change suggested something was shifting in its intent.
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