Brine Lurker

An eyeless salt-pale horror that came up the water-table from the drowned south coast and settled in the Throat of the Pan's black brine-pool — patient, cold, and large.

Whatever it was before the saltwater and the dark shaped it, it is something else now: pale as boiled bone, eyeless, and perfectly adapted to finding warm things by water pressure in a pool too dark to see. It does not come to the surface. You come to it, when you wade deep enough.