Cephalume
From the outside, cephalume biology doesn’t seem particularly unusual. A cephalume’s body is cylindrical, thick, and muscular, with a head decorated by a fan-like frill, two flexible tentacles, and a powerful foot that ends in 6–12 short tentacular toes. Cephalumes are covered in elaborate bioluminescent patterns unique to each individual; by the age of 5, a cephalume has mastered control of the light given off by these patterns, which is key to communicating in Lumos, their native language.
The cephalume’s surface resemblance to squids is misleading; in fact, cephalumes have an internal physiology more like that of plants, and their tentacles are more akin to vines than the limbs of a cephalopod. Similarly, a cephalume’s brain and other vital organs take the shape of long fibrous stems that run the length of their body. Cephalumes, like most plants, are monoecious—each individual has both male and female structures—and any cephalume can fertilize any other cephalume. Traditionally, they’ve relied on the methane current of their home world for this fertilization, but for as long as cephalume history has recorded, there have been romantic examples of cephalumes who chose to fertilize each other in defiance of random chance. Cephalumes reach physical maturity by the age of 12 and typically live to their 80s.
Cephalumes metabolize energy through their skin. Deep in the methane layer of Luminar, there’s no sunlight for photosynthesis, and despite the incredible pressure at the center, the planet is cold; remarkably, cephalumes have evolved to live off low-level background radiation, though they remain just as vulnerable to high doses of radiation as other species.
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