Mermaid_ A Twist on the Classic Tale - Carolyn Turgeon [35]
And then she could go to Falke, she decided. This was just one last thing to take care of before she started her new life, as an adult and as a mother. One last adventure.
She left the palace quietly, when she was sure no one was watching. She let her heart guide her as she swam past the mountain range that cast shadows over the palace and into the vast sea, passing caverns and volcanoes and streams of glowing fish, drifting underwater stars, all manner of shell and pearl and coral. After a long while, the contours of the sea began to change. The luminous green seaweed and glowing bulbs disappeared, and the terrain turned dark, limned with black, starry rock. The water shifted, sparkled, grew dark and dense; a strange sort of electricity moved through the ocean, and she knew she’d entered the realm of the sea witch.
It was unmistakable: the cavern gleamed in front of her like a black star. Outside stood the figure of a witch built from twigs and grass and leaves from the upper world. Materials so out of place in the deep ocean that they had taken on their own magic.
Lenia swam through the huge, gaping opening and into the cavern. The walls seemed to be made from glittering black jewel, with huge red flowers blooming out of it. Winged white fish fluttered around, moving in and out of view, illuminating the surroundings.
“Sybil?” she called. To her surprise, her voice rumbled in her throat, the way it had above the surface of the water, in the air. She looked about, disoriented, but she was still at the bottom of the sea. Surrounded by black jewel walls. Nothing had changed.
There was no answer. Across the room was an archway, and she moved through it, into a second room, filled with strange plants that grew so thickly she had to weave through them. Even as Lenia approached, they grew and changed color right before her eyes.
She pushed through and came upon a mermaid busy tending a batch of flowering vines climbing up one of the cavern walls. The mermaid had a tail like melted pearl, wild pink-silver hair streaming to her waist.
“Hello?” Lenia whispered, suddenly afraid. It couldn’t possibly be her, she thought. Sybil had to be near three hundred years old by now.
Lenia started when the mermaid turned and looked at her. Her eyes were the strangest, palest gold, the kind of eyes you could feel yourself sinking into. They pulled her in like two arms, and Lenia immediately looked down at the floor, which was a black, glowing sand, scattered through with silver rocks.
“Hello?” the mermaid said, approaching her. Her voice was so lovely, and it seemed to take on a life of its own as it left her mouth, entwining itself in Lenia’s hair.
“Are you Sybil?”
“I was expecting you.”
“You were?”
“These plants,” Sybil said, pointing. “I can see bits of the future in the vines.” She plucked a flower and then opened it, let the petals collapse until only the thick center shot up. “Can you see?”
“See what?” Lenia could not see anything but the heart of the flower in Sybil’s hand. Suddenly, for just a flash, it took on the shape of a mermaid—of Lenia herself—and then it fell back and became, once more, the center of the flower. “Oh.” She looked up at Sybil, who smiled, dropping the flower onto the sea floor. Instantly, it shot up again to its full height.
“You need something?”
“Yes,” Lenia stammered. “I wanted to—”
Sybil put her hand on Lenia’s shoulder. “It is all right. Tell me.”
“On my eighteenth birthday, I saved a human man who was drowning, and I love him. I want to find him again.” It seemed to come out in one long breath.
Sybil did not even blink with surprise. “You have not fallen in love with just any human. He is a prince, is he not?”
“A prince?” Lenia said. “How do you know that?”
“My dear,” Sybil said, ignoring her question. “It’s best to accept your own nature, rather than try to be something you’re not.”
Lenia spoke the next words carefully, slowly. “But is it possible? To become something you’re not?”
Around them, the vines twisted and untwisted,