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Hydrolith — Description
Just to clarify right here right now, this is an entry on the Hydrolith, not the Hydralith. The Hydralith is a type of large, nut-producing trees, while the Hydrolith is a giant oceanic filter-feeder. If you are looking to learn more about the Hydralith, go to that entry, or at least take a look at my entry on Thunderbirds. This here is all about those oceanic Hydroliths!

Where to even begin with these aquatic oddities? I guess the best is to go over the basics. Hydroliths are a purely oceanic species, whose young forms are found in reefs, atolls and other ocean bottom ecosystems. When they become adults, though, they drift out into the open sea, following the currents and tides through that blue abyss. No matter what stage of life they are at, Hydroliths are purely filter feeders, sieving the waters for food particles and tiny critters. This is done with their muscular pumps, which suck in and expel water. This pulls in water through their hole-filled tops, where it is run through a fine network of filters and sieves. The water is then pushed out through their various fleshy orifices, and then the process begins anew. When small, this feeding behavior is practically invisible to the eye, as you cannot notice the flow of water in and out, save for the occasional bubble. When they grow to their massive adult stage, though, one part about that changes. Yes, you may note the rare stream of bubbles that may be blown out of one of their pumps, but what really changes is the fact that they start "breathing." Now this isn't referring to actual breathing, instead it is talking about the sound they make when they are pumping water in and out. At their full grown size, the flexing of their pumps and the flow of water creates a deep noise that sounds a lot like heavy breathing. This sound is not particularly loud, but it is capable of being heard for quite some distance underwater. In some cases, you may barely be able to spot the Hydrolith in the distance, but you will hear that slow, heavy "breathing." Though I am incapable of diving down and hearing it for myself, many describe the sound as "haunting" and "creepy." Something about swimming in that blue void and hearing that sound sends shivers through many, and it must be even more unsettling when you are near that giant, still monolith.

Hydroliths start off their life as tiny creatures that are birthed by their adult stage. They are released in the thousands, and they will simply drift on the tides and currents. A lucky few will make it to a reef or a rocky bed where they can anchor and begin to grow. By glimpsing at the Hydrolith, you can probably tell that it is related to the sponges, and that is correct. In their young stage, they will grow into what appears to be any normal, colorful-looking sponge. They will form a large slab-like body, with the filters on top, and the pumping organs on the side and bottom. Plates will form on their side and begin to slowly expand to create air pockets in its body. An interesting feature is its anchoring appendage, which is fleshy, unlike the stone-like shell of the rest of the Hydrolith. Over the course of years, the Hydrolith will grow from a height of two to three feet, to an incredible fifteen, dwarfing the other sponges and corals of the reef. When it reaches this size, it will begin its transition into adulthood. The color will slowly drain from their bodies, turning into a dull gray, while their organic anchor slowly deteriorates. As this happens, their air pockets will swell and make them more buoyant. At last the anchor will finally give away, and the Hydrolith will begin to rise. After ascending from the sea bottom, it will position itself high above the bed, but close to the surface. At this point its pockets and chambers will tune themselves to make the Hydrolith neutrally buoyant, causing it to hang in the empty waters. From then one, the Hydrolith will just drift along, feeding on the water and using the expelled fluid to lazily push them along. Despite this being their adult form, they will continue to grow. Adults have been found at a startling height of twenty-five to thirty feet! Imagine what that must look like! A giant, seemingly lifeless monolith just hanging in the empty sea, its deep breath the only sign of activity! Though I may find it awe-inspiring, I cannot deny that it would sure be a creepy visual. Sometimes it is no wonder why people fear the sea.

Due to their rocky exterior and very few fleshy parts, Hydroliths do not really have any predators or enemies. There is not much to really feed on, so what is the point? Instead, they face a countless amount of parasites and hitchhikers, those who find refuge from the empty sea on these floating islands. Barnacles will often attach to them, and small shrimp and crustaceans may cling to their vents to nab some sucked in goodies. Certain species of small fish will hang close to them, feeding on the critters that crawl along their surface and hiding in the vents when predators come by. In warmer, tropical waters, Hydroliths may turn into traveling reefs, forming their own ecosystems on their bodies. These little paradises, though, are not permanent. Over the years, the weight of all the hitchhikers and growths may be too much for their bodies to hold up and they shall sink down below. Down in the darkness, they will perish, as will the rest of the attached colony. Supposedly these remains last for decades, turning bone white and providing shelter for the denizens down below. That would be another neat thing to see! Imagine a graveyard of ecosystems and personal islands, frozen remains of a lost paradise! One possible way they may perish is if they happen to float above a Charybdis, one of old age and large size. If the Hydrolith trips off the creature's senses, than it may begin to create a whirlpool with the intent of feeding. The Hydrolith will be sucked it, and will slam into the feeding beast. In these cases, both will receive some nasty injuries, and both them may perish if the damage is too much. Another cause of death for Hydroliths can be beaching, which is usually caused by violent storms and hurricanes. The raging waters will push them to shore and throw them upon the sand and rocks. Some may break upon impact, while others simply lay upon the ground and asphyxiate. These beached carcasses are partially responsible for the belief of some underwater civilization, as coastal folk interpret them as alien architecture or bizarre carriers of aquatic horrors. Even when alive, these creatures have influenced many terrible tales. Their heavy breathing sound may have aided the belief in giant oceanic monsters, and there are plenty stories of men lost at sea who have lost their minds hearing that infernal noise.

To the aquatic community, the Hydrolith is not so unsettling. Kelp Dryads and Sea Goblins see them as simple creatures and necessary components to their homes. Supposedly there are instances where several Hydroliths may drift together, and this is referred to as a "giant's garden." These communities have also been called a "Kelpie's playground," as young Kelp Dryads often like to swim and play around these large creatures (Note that Kelpie is referring to the Kelp Dryads and not an actual Kelpie. I don't think ocean dwellers are even aware that a creature called a Kelpie exists). When these behemoths eventually sink and pass, their carcasses provide plenty of homes and shelter to those below, and may even turn into another reef. In those cases, the cycle may begin anew, as larval Hydroliths attach to the carcass and begin to grow. In time, a new generation of monoliths will take to the seas, carrying along life and spreading it through that empty expanse.

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

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Sometimes these fantasy things tend to get a bit alien looking, but I like it! While these creatures are indeed based on sponges, their entire existence is owed to sperm whales and their creepy way of sleeping. Just looking at photos of them is unsettling, and it made me wonder what it would be like to swim amongst them at such a time. To be in that blue void, swimming through a garden of gray, breathing monoliths. Slumbering giants in an empty sea, uncaring and unmoving.