Lashith remembered a time of indulgence and gluttony, the taste of mortals beneath his teeth aplenty. He'd been made in times of war, and the bodies of man fell frequently into his waters, spilling their precious blood into the insatiable sea. It was a good life. But he got bored, and decided to explore, to search for more. The world was his oyster. Who was he to know his Greek cousins were children of Gods, who did not share the pleasure-seeking life he lived, filled with a sense of suffering and anguish. Eat of the same men they did, but he supposed he lacked their sense of respect to their gods. One misplaced comment later, and he finds his soul cursed to an island forever.

At first Lashith had been uncaring of it all. Sure it was different to the war-torn seas he was used to, but the large lake of the island was home enough, and a small village inhabited the island, providing the food he needed. But hubris bred incompetence, and let it be said the Gods knew their punishments well. So used to the plentifulness of sailors, within lest a century, Lashith found his island empty of humans, all gone in his greed.

What was a lush and rich paradise of an island, as the aeons passed, turned into a pretty prison. How the Gods must be laughing from above; the siren of the ocean, used to its vast waters and prey, stuck in tepid fresh water, slowly starving, forever alive in his existence. The hunger clawed in his throat, as day by day his psyche unravelled more, the isolation and confinement driving him insane. It wasn't just the lack of sustenance. Enrichment, intelligence from more then stupid seagulls, and touch. By the Gods he missed the touch of another, whether from the seduction of his prey before a meal, or the ill-advised romance with another.

So when someone finally, finally found themselves stranded on his island, Lashith determined that he'd keep this one, to contain his greed to consume, as he rose out of his waters. " Why hello, මැණිකේ. How weary you must be. Lost?" His voice crooned, sickly sweet.