Moray Eel
This bright green egg cheerfully rocks in the water in a catchy rhythm.
Spoiler
A magi can always tell when a moray eel is about to hatch, because the egg will change the tempo at which it bobs about, and if this is noted in time, many will come to watch the spectacle. The hatchling tends to emerge tail first in a seemingly choreographed series of twirling waves, sweeping up its own egg shell fragments into a miniature contained eddy, and using them as glinting confetti to stage their showy entrance. They love to show off their athletic prowess from that first moment, and it is a singularly entrancing exhibit -some magi speculate that there is a slight hypnotic power to their dancing which helps them attract prey within striking distance.
Spoiler
Moray eels are physically very demonstrative companions; they will twine themselves lovingly about anything that will hold still for it, and when gathered in groups will instinctively practice the synchronized swimming patterns that look so much like complex runes, and which magi are convinced are actually powerful spells -although precisely what these spells accomplish has not been determined. Some believe it is a form of environmental control, and that these regularly performed magics are what keep the seas around the Candle Archipelagos so mild. Others think it a form of collective memory-knowledge being passed on among them, although they cannot agree upon what memories or instincts might thus be shared. One favorite theory among students insists that these eels were once much larger, more voracious and isolated predators who each defended large solitary territories, and the eels abandoned their old forms when a pair fell in love and begged the gods for a spell which would allow them to survive living in closer proximity to each other and their children. The theory does not state if the current spells keep them in their new forms, or are a prayer of thanks to the god who helped their ancestors.
The moray eels of the Western sea are never entirely still -much like certain sharks which continue to swim even while sleeping, their constant movement powers everything from their breathing to their magic. Magi who have bonded with one protest that it is never aimless movement, but a purposeful dance of life; from patient, subtle "dances of enticement" to lure in prey, or hours of flashy performance for play or mating, to somber directional mapping dances designed to mourn the loss of a companion, or to warn of danger drifting closer on the currents. Even the most fiercely defensive magi, however, will admit that most eels seem to spend a great deal of time tying themselves into knots from sheer joy of motion, and that chasing their own tails for the fun of it cannot be taken too seriously as a portent of anything larger than love of life.
