Below the thunders of the upper deep; far, far beneath in the abysmal sea…she awaits the starting whistle. The faintest rays of light flee in her shadows: above her swell huge waves of millennial growth and height. She is a creature of the Fey. If anyone unwarily draws in too close, their loved ones will never welcome them home again, for they have been hip-checked into Davey Jone’s locker, left to lie with the great heaps of dead girl’s bones and stolen treasures (like her victims roller skates or awesome derby stickers!)… For here, in the great North Atlantic, they have met a Salty Demise.
