Listen well now, for this is important! There were days long ago when the shore was living, and the land met the sea with arms of reaching green. But that was before. Now the cliffs stood stark and silent, and wind whistled eerily through holes in their faces. No birds dared to nest on their craggy shelves, and the waves which lapped their bases held no fish, nor weed, nor ocean-folk. Only more of the pale rocks rose across the waters of the lagoon, glistening wetly like the bones of a great spine. It was a dead place, a place of watching ghosts, the holes in the cliffs perhaps not altogether carved by the winds. It was the Place of Watching Stone, and none lived there.

To this place came Kilea’lea the Gull, who had tamed the wind and taught the stars to the bird clans and seafolk, the great fisher, she who knew the currents and the mists. So also came her sibling Takemoa Blackfur, who had wrestled Makaloa’ne, the Great Octopus of the Southern Isles, and had learned the secrets of coral and weed. Never had the world seen such as they, the Twins of Sea and Sky, and their deeds are many. But listen! Kilea’lea and Takemoa came, and beholding the stillness of the waters, the pale stone that watched the doom of the lands above the tideline, they saw the sorrow of the shore, and knew they would work to heal it.

The sea itself feared that place, in those times, so first Kilea’lea flew above the waves, her wings whipping them into frenzy and foam as they fled from her. But quick as currents was Takemoa, who nipped at the heels of the tide and shepherded it before him, into the Place of Watching. Out again poured the sea, and again they drove it back in, until the fear of the Place of Watching Stone ebbed away, and the lagoon breathed once more with the tide. As the crash of true waves washed across the stony cliffs did Kilea’lea carve the first shrine, to honor the breath and pulse of the sea, and to remind the land of their rhythm.

Next did Takemoa swim far and wide across the ocean, and deftly cut small pieces of coral and weed from the beds and gardens of the oceanfolk, giving thanks and respect for each. And when he had gathered them all up and looked like a great sea urchin of many colors, he returned to the Place of Watching Stone and placed each coral polyp and weed cutting to their liking, so that the ocean currents flowed over them and they could grow. And as he went he sang, and following behind him there came a great parade of the small creatures - the snails and sea-slugs, the small shrimp and worms, barnacles and shells of many hues, and all those that dwelled on the ocean’s bed. These crept and swam and jetted into the Place, and settled there until the waters were teeming with the small life of the sea. And Takemoa carved the second shrine, to honor life beneath the waves and the vast bounty of the sea, and to remind the land of the small beings which cared for the world, in their own way.

The waters flashed silver then with scale and fin, as vast schools of fish swirled into the Place of Watching Stones, for they had seen the swell of the small creatures that they fed upon. And as they came Kilea’lea once more spread her wings, and their shadow fell upon the waters and caused the fish to dart and scatter. In this way Kilea’lea herded them into pens and pools that Takemoa wove from seaweed and mussel-thread, where they grew fat and spawned. Kilea’lea took note of their stocks, and carved the third shrine to honor the cycles of spawn and growth and death, and recorded the number and kinds of fish so that others might maintain their stocks. In this way she reminded the land of the duty owed by the creatures of the world, to safeguard its bounty and shepherd the small life which swam and crawled.

The Place of Watching Stone stirred with life, and many a creature flocked to it to enjoy its bounty and beauty. Kilea’lea and Takemoa greeted each newcomer as family, and showed them how to care and respect the Place of Watching Stones. Some stayed only a brief time, but others sheltered there with the Twins, and took up the duties of the Place alongside them. The voice of two became the voices of many, but always were Kilea’lea and Takemoa there to soothe and encourage their companions to set aside claw and spear, and to take up words instead.

But there were none to guide the Twins themselves, and in time some speck of grit, some tiny grain of irritation fell between them. Perhaps a tool, borrowed too long or left on the reef until it was tarnished and in disrepair. Or some object of desire, a small thing found on the sea floor and kept instead of shared. Some tales speak of a glint in the eyes of Kilea’lea, or strange absences of Takemoa that they refused to explain; still others speak of a companion, some visitor to the Place of Watching Stones whose company became coveted. All the stories agree though, that envy or anger took root in the hearts of the Twins, like barnacles slowly encrusting a stone.

It began with glares and frustrated silences, the two spending less and less time in each other’s company. Words were whetted and used to jab and parry, and the creatures who lived in that place began to take notice. When Kilea’lea huffed at some comment of Takemoa’s, others would nod and murmur to themselves. Others would rise to defend Takemoa, condemning the poor behavior of those who sided with the Gull. Sharp words grew sharper still, and arguments broke out with great frequency. Those who tended the schools of fish, noticing loss of their stock, immediately blamed those who kept the coral beds. They in turn pointed fingers at the navigators, the pilots and current-riders. Disrespect grew brash, with tools going missing or found stolen by others, extra rations hoarded, and efforts sabotaged.

Above them all, the pale cliffs began to keen.

Soon enough, those that followed the Blackfur were pushed beyond their limit. Some poor soul insulted another in passing, and rather than respond with words, teeth were bared, and with a great uproar was blood first spilled into the waters of that place. The great and sullen tension between all those that lived there shattered then into a great and unquenchable fury as claw met beak, spear met sword, and the creatures of Kilea’lea and those who followed Takemoa fell upon one another. First drops, then streams, then great pools of crimson flowed out to stain the waters of that place.

The keening of the cliffs, until then unnoticed, grew suddenly piercing, a wail which shook the waves and sang alongside the rising tempers. Strange lights flickered in the holes of the cliffs, and a great mist began to pour from them like ghostly tears to rise up all across the waters there. The creatures shouted in anger as their friends, now foes, became hidden from sight. Some hurled spears or swiped at shapes in the fog, blind in their fury, to find the odd figures suddenly disappearing, or looming over them like great and enveloping shadows, reaching out to grasp their arms. Shouts became screams, erupting throughout the mist as weapons dissolved into salt and swirled down into the waves to bleach the coral a bone-chilling white. Some saw their opponents, now disarmed, and pressed the attack… only for their foes to look on in horror as they dissolved bodily into sea foam. All was panic and confusion as the wailing of the cliffs surged and moaned, growing to a fevered pitch. The watching eyes grew large, and through the fog loomed suddenly a great face, the Watcher in Stone bearing down upon them all. The White Death rose amongst them, and all was salt and foam and wailing screams!

In the center of it all fought Kilea’lea and Takemoa, their rage and battle-fury dancing through the deathly mists. Kilea’lea’s great harpoon, hooked and barbed, plunged towards Takemoa, and yet was turned aside by the Blackfur’s blade. He surged forward, and the Gull leapt to the air in brief retreat before bearing down once more upon him. Fur and feather alike were stained red, and all might have been lost then, but a great wailing cry arose. Locked in combat, the Twins turned as one to behold the slaughter of the creatures who had followed them, and above the grim face of the Watching Stone, the Judge itself come to pass sentence. Beholding the staining of the waters, the pale stone that watched now their own doom and that of their crews, Kilea’lea and Takemoa once more saw the sorrow of the shore, and both knew that they, and only they, could staunch this wound. Turning back once more to their dear sibling, they separated to bare their chests to the other. Kilea’lea smiled sadly as tears welled in Takemoa’s eyes, and as one they plunged their weapons into their twin’s heart.

Both fell, and a great red tide spread out from them like a ripple in the waters, sinking down into the coral and weed, into the very stone of that place. Where it touched sprouted masses of algae, waving crimson in the currents, the Blood of the Twins taking root with their dying wish. And as the algae spread did life return to those waters, emerging from the matted tangle. Corals took on new color, and great thickets of weed erupted from a seabed thick with snails and shrimp and crawling things. Through it all poured silver shoals of fish, flashing between rock spires and fronds of fast-growing anemones.

The mists cleared away, and the few survivors gazed in shock at a place transformed. The red of the algae shone throughout the waters, and there on the coral lay the pale bodies of Kilea’lea and Takemoa. Even as they watched, stone crept up the still forms of the Twins, until both were entombed beneath the very bones of the reef. The face had vanished from the cliffs, and the wind once more blew softly across them with gentle, sorrowful notes.

Gathering themselves, those of the first crews hurled their weapons down into the weed, where the algae consumed them. Coming together then, they pledged themselves to the Red Pact, upon the blood of Kilea’lea and Takemoa. Never again would they spill blood in this place, nor would arms be taken up against those who sheltered here. No feud would be allowed to fester into the salt-rot of envy or resentment, lest the Watcher return and spell doom for them all.

And so it has continued, until this very day, for that place was this very lagoon! And all here know that, should the algae ever thin, it tells the tale of resentment living in our hearts, or that bitter anger washes in on the tide. And woe be on us if we allow it to remain, or else the restless spirits of Kilea’lea and Takemoa will rise with the mists, the White Death come once more to sit in judgment and drag us all down beneath the waves.

Such is the way of it!