[center][h1]First Cephalpod [/h1]
[h2]Collection of what it knows and what it does not[/h2][/center]
[hr]
[b][h3] Of Existence and Day Night[/h3][/b]
There was a time that it wasn’t. Then there is the time that it is. 

There was a time before. And then there was an after the time. 

It knew this. It wasn’t sure what it was called. Or is called. But it knew of a time before and it knows of a time that is now. 

It knew of the light above and the darkness below. Or the darkness above and the darkness below. The first Cephalopod knew this because it had seen it. When the lights above come, the white sea above is white. And when the lights above disappear, the white sea above turns dark. 

It knows that the white sea didn’t turn completely dark as well. Little lights, little fishes, light the white sea when the lights above disappear. But sometimes, dark whales engulf them. And when that happened, the dark seas become just as dark as the dark below. 

But this darkness is unlike the darkness below.

This darkness does not last eternally. Forever long it may take, little fishes would depart from the black whale’s belly and lights up the white sea above. That, or the lights above shine once more. And when it disappears, in its place would be the little lights that returned. 

[hider= dictionary]
“The light above” = sun, white sky, sea portion that can be shone by the sun
“The white sea above” = sky
“The darkness below” = deep sea
“Dark whales” = cloud 
“Little lights”/”little fishes” = stars” [/hider]

[hr]
[b][h3]Of Birth, Of Love, and Of Something [/h3][/b]

But that is not all that it knows. 

It knows that it is the first. 

It knows this because it could not see others like it. 

And because it gave birth to its spawn. 

The little itself that quickly ran from it. 

The little things that scream and squirt ink to it. 

The little crunchy squishy things that was much too hard to capture

And the little stillness that it felt when the little self left it by itself. 
[hr] 

[b][h3] Of the Darkness below and The Drifting Ink [/h3][/b]

It knows of the darkness below, where the lights above could not reach it. Where there are much odder things than itself existed. Fishes that swim without fins, but by moving like tendrils. Fishes that do not swim, but by having little lights that act like bait. Fishes that do not know their sizes and attempt to eat things that are much too large. 

Black whales live here. Gargantuan things. Much larger than it. And it is much afraid of them. 

It does not know why the black whales are so ferocious, or so persistent in hunting it full . But it had lost one of its limbs to the black whales. It was how it learned of the other liquid it produced outside of ink. It produced blue liquid. The deepest blue, almost like the liquid that it swims in. But the painful sensation it felt when that liquid escaped it… 

The tentacles have regrowned. It could tell no difference from the new old to the old one. But the sensation did not. It didn’t know why it could not forget the sensation, or have it regrowned yet. It is something that it remembers. 

That is why it doesn’t like to enter the darkness below, even if its skin could blend in more easily compared to the part where the light above touches.

But the darkness below is not the only danger of the blue liquid. 

There are regions it has learned that are unnatural. Regions where crabs acts just as ferocious as the fishes that hunt them. Where mackerels bite sharks and swallow black whales while inside them.

These regions are unnatural. It learned crabs to be docile and harmless creatures. It could cause no harm to its beak and tendrils. All these square things could do is to continuously scurry along the sea floor before it could no longer scurry. But in the drifting ink, the crabs were just as dangerous as it was to them. It could felt a strong thing inside the little box when they scurry into one of these “drifting ink.” Something changes them from fleeing to fighting. 

What naturally are prey, turned predators inside those strange waters. 

Strangely enough, it has learned to straddle between the normal liquid and the Drifting Ink. Because fighting is a dangerous thing, it knows. And not all prey, not even with the Drifting Ink, could turn into a true predator. So it continuously swims between the normal water and the Drifting Ink, feeding upon the wounded and those that are unfortunate enough to be caught alone

These are the things that it knows. 

And it knows a lot. 
[hider = Dictionary and Explanation] 
“Darkness below” = aphotic zone, zone where there are no lights 
“Dreadful Ink” = zone where creature are faced Yzechr’s corruption more pronounced

This is based on my understanding of what is being written
[quote=@Cmmelody] 
[b][i]Let the ocean be the veil that conceals the truth. The further down the depth, the less they will be able to find, until their own limb and sound of the heartbeat disappear.
Let the madness in their heart grow, the longer they spend down the surface, until they only think of total annihilation.
Let the above be filled with fog, which sometimes makes sights and sounds that never are, and hide the destinations which are always there.
Let the danger of those oceans be so enchanting to the weak willed, that they cannot wait to chase their ruination with smile and laughter.[/i][/b][/quote]
=> Assume this is the normal state of a sea creature. Weirder as they traveled down into the sunless zone. They don’t have much of a mind, so they can’t really understand what is the normal state of being. First Cephalopod’s cannibalistic past would be self-explained by it. 

[quote=@Vec][i]In the depths of the corrupted ocean, something pulsed.

The pearl-white shell that Yzechr had consumed had not been destroyed, not truly. It had dissolved into the very substance of the sea, becoming one with the darkness and the deception. But shells, especially those touched by mysteries, have memories. And memories have a way of surfacing when least expected.

At irregular intervals, sometimes hours apart, sometimes days, the ocean would clear. For a handful of heartbeats, the lightless depths would become transparent, the water as pure and safe as it had been before corruption touched it. Ships could sail. Fish could swim without mutation. The alluring whispers would fall silent.

Then, just as suddenly, the clarity would fade. The corruption would return, darker than before, as if angered by the interruption. The gods who had collected other shells from the shore, pretty, nacre-bright things, felt those trinkets grow suddenly inert in their grasp. The faint magic that had clung to them, the sense of significance, drained away like water through sand. They were still beautiful. But they were just shells now, nothing more. [/i][/quote]
=> There are now phases where the sea becomes not corrupted. But more importantly, there are now phases where part of the sea becomes much more corrupted. This is as indicated by the phrases “The corruption would return, darker than before, as if angered by the interruption.” 
So now, the First Cephalopod learns to straddle between these two parts. One part where the corruption is at the normal state, and one part where there is more corruption as a result of that part of the sea was momentarily “cured of corruption.” [/hider]