A forbidden passage is guarded by a dragon slayer who appears entirely committed to his duty.

Then a noblewoman arrives.

She asks about neither the gate nor the danger beyond it. Instead, she steps closer and asks to see his trophy — the dragon.

The Oyster Eye blinks.

A moment later, discipline gives way to desire. The warrior takes her through the gate, leaving his post behind.

But the obvious seduction is only part of the scene.

At the beginning of Prey, the woman quietly hands her fan to someone standing outside the frame and tells him to follow. The gesture is easy to miss. Only at the end does its purpose become clear.

As she walks away with the dragon slayer, she turns back.

She winks at the unseen companion — and, by extension, at the viewer occupying his place.

Her trembling tail finally reveals what she is, but more importantly, it reveals how much she enjoyed the performance.

The guard was the visible target. He may not have been the true audience.

The Oyster Eye does not create desire. It reveals what was already there.

Prey is a dark fantasy short from the world of Shell Oracle, built around seduction, misdirection and the unstable relationship between the person being watched and the person doing the watching.