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There are many things in the deep waters, and while seas and lands may change, one thing never will - the folk of the deeps are a curious lot and they love to gossip.
So, when one day something round and hard and glowing dove down from the sky-sea and almost hit a little angelfish right on her pretty little head, fins were a-flutter and tongues were a-wagging all over the ocean, faster than a swordfish during spawning season.
Those most daring ventured forth to see the mysterious sky-stone for themselves, and reported that it did, indeed, exist, and it did, indeed, glow most prettily, and apart from that, did seem to do little else. Thus reassured that the thing did not seem inclined to sprout tentacles or teeth any time soon, soon a gaggle of curious finfolk swarmed the strange stone on the ocean floor, its brilliant glow cutting through the water and leading the way for everyone who cared to find it.
What exactly it was they were looking at - and whether it was an advisable course of action to consider doing more than looking - opinions were divided on. Some thought it a simple stone, quite useless, if admittedly a pretty sight; others argued it must be a scale of one of the sky-fish of legend, whose glimmer could be seen at night as they swam through the sky.
A flounder, gliding close to eye the thing suspiciously, hazarded the guess that it was not a thing at all, but a living being, or rather, an egg, a proposal which was met with incredulous laughter from the group - after all, what kind of egg could it be, hard as it was; no hatchling would ever be able to escape from its shell!
The flounder retreated with a shame-faced grumble, until an elderly crab spoke up - he had narrowly escaped from a seagull nest once, and fancied himself something of an expert (or eggs-pert, if you will) on the procreation of the land-locked since - and declared the thing almost certainly a land-egg.
This sparked a spirited discussion on the question of the egg's viability - could it hatch, away from the land? And if so, what might hatch from it?
What an idea that was - indeed a line of thought which caused some unease among the gathered folk, especially the smaller ones, who had lost many of their brethren to the screaming feathered ones and their claws and beaks. And while some remained sceptical, they all agreed that anything coming from beyond the sea-waters was to be treated with the appropriate caution.
So it was that in the end, it was agreed that a watch should be set, to see if the glowing stone would indeed hatch, and if so, what would crawl from its shell.
And when the crab proposed himself as the best choice for this honourable duty, they were all only too happy to agree. An octopus volunteered to convey the sky egg to a more hidden resting place, and a school of sardines brought pebbles and seaweed and build a nest so the glowing egg would not be swept off by the current.
And there it rested, watched over by the crab, for many years; and when he went finally to join his forefathers in the Sea Eternal, he entrusted the duty to his child, who entrusted it to her child, and so on for many, many, many generations. And ever they told of the egg from the sky-sea, and of crab-kind's duty to watch over it.
Yet over the years, as the waves went by and the seas changed, so did the story...
***
One day, so the stories say, the glowing egg will hatch, and the biggest of the sky-fish will come down from the sky-sea to retrieve its wayward child. Then, the Singer by the Water will gather his crustacean retinue, and lead them to the sky-sea and beyond to the Sea Eternal, where the song of the sea will encompass all, and the land-folk and the sea-folk will come together to live side by side in harmony.
Until then, crab-kind will fulfil its solemn duty, and the glowing egg will sleep in secret, here where the seaweed is greenest in all the Belegaer, the fish the most lively and plentiful, and the waters clearer and fresher than anywhere else.