Lazarus had no idea that Esme had been attacked while on her journey to Sheba’s lagoon. If he had, he would have come for her by now.
Unbeknownst to Lazarus, Esme was wearily clinging to every bit of strength that she had inside herself to carry on.
Esme wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for when she returned home. Sheba had told enough to give Esme a head start on where the curse might be.
Now Esme was resting, her head hanging low, a sense of defeat passing over her.
Just before her was a green riverbank. She sat as comfortably as she could with that raw injury still leaking blood out onto the rock beneath her.
Esme peered closely at the riverbank, noticing that lush green grass grew upon it despite the constant bombardment of waves.
A rustling in the grass made Esme look up.
A figure in black stood in the grass. She was dressed completely in black, a luxurious velvet cloak covering her head and falling to her feet, dragging on the moist grass.
The figure lifted the hood off her head to reveal a full head of glossy white hair falling down in curls beyond her shoulders. Piercing green eyes caught Esme’s stare with her own.
Esme realized she had been caught watching the woman. Thinking that she would get scolded, she stuttered as she said, “Oh, I’m sorry!”
“It is no matter, child,” the figure responded coolly. The large staff in her hand caught Esme’s attention. An emerald embedded in its center glowed.
The figure noticed Esme’s fishtail and chuckled.
“I apologize for my abrupt rudeness,” she said. “It’s just we don’t often see mermaids in these parts. In fact, until now, I believed them all to be extinct.”
Esme couldn’t work out if this mysterious female was a friend to the merfolk or a foe.
Esme felt a chill go down her back. Something was unnerving about this stranger. A sense of death befouled her, but she tried to maintain her composure despite this atmosphere.
“I have heard tales of such, but many of us are still alive to tell the tales,” Esme said.
Yes, it was known that many mermaids had perished and so it was a rare occurrence that one would be seen bobbing up above the surface instead of staying in safe waters, as Esme had always been told to do.
The white-haired figure glanced at Esme’s injury, the blood almost covering her beautiful tail.
“You won’t be alive to tell any tales if you don’t do something about that ghastly stab wound,” she said. “How did you get it? You’re only a fragile young thing and a fiery cut like that can cull your life in an instant.”
Esme looked down at her tail, flinching as the pain surged through her entire body.
One might wonder how she would be able to withstand such pain while swimming in the perilous depths of the rough seas along her quest.
“Yes, I know,” she admitted. “But I’m on my way home. I have to keep going.”
If she gave up now, she might have as well have said to Nixie, “Okay, you win. You took everything from me, and there’s not a thing I am able to do to stop you.”
The figure smiled, pointing her staff outward towards Esme.
“I can help,” she said. “I’ve healed some beings in my time, but never a mermaid. However, I can try my utmost.”
“Oh, but I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” Esme began, feeling as if she would be rude to accept this gracious offer.
The mysterious lady would have none of that. She didn’t like being refused, that was clear.
“Nonsense. I came out here to calm my thoughts. The least I can do is alleviate the pain that is keeping you from your path!” she said, and then cocked her head as if listening to the ground whisper to her. After a few seconds, she returned her attention to Esme.
It sounded like she spoke in riddles, but Esme paid it no mind and nodded to allow the woman to enact the healing.
The white-haired lady pulled her cloak across her head once more before giving Esme a secretive smile. Something in her demeanor told Esme that underneath it all, she was a warm soul, even if she hid it all away.
The woman closed her eyes and began to whisper some words that Esme didn’t recognize. It sounded like another language, but she couldn’t tell exactly as the lady recited them too fast for her to hear.
She presumed it was an incantation of some kind, something she had heard Nixie mention back when things were going swimmingly in the palace. Nixie had often talked about spells and how they were sometimes crafted into rhymed analogies, delicately phrased to manifest a certain outcome.
Esme watched in amazement as she felt a tingling sensation upon her fishtail.
She looked down to witness a most wonderful sight. At once, the skin surrounding the vile wound on Esme’s fishtail began to regenerate, reforming the beautiful opalescent purple and gold sheen as the skin healed. The blood disappeared as if it had never poured out down her tail. The wound filling up, growing hard and solid until finally after a few moments, it was apparent that there was no wound.
“There. That’s better than you having to turn into a water-logged carcass,” the stranger said as she lowered her staff, relaxing it in the palm of her left hand.
Esme glanced down at her radiant fishtail shimmering brightly in the sunlight.
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She was enthralled by the magic she had seen performed in front of her very eyes.
It was mesmerizing. For years, Esme had heard about the ancient magic and the witches that worked it, and today she had seen one in action, performing that same magic on her!
Esme felt ablaze with gratitude, so much so she didn’t know where to begin. Happiness sparked within her, and fire expanded within her heart as she was overpowered by the joy of being healed.
“Thank you! I cannot begin to express my gratitude,” Esme gasped almost incoherently, feeling like she couldn’t speak too well. The words wanted to escape from her lips but at the same time she couldn’t express them.
Esme stared dead into space for a few seconds, feeling overwhelmed. A leaf fell onto her head, startling her, and she realized the kind enchantress was still there.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I haven’t asked your name!” Esme said, feeling stiff from her silence.
The white-haired woman smiled.
“Isra,” she said with a toss of her white curls, “but some refer to me as Lady Isra of the Dark. I can’t speak for them all, but I was given that name when I first became attuned to some of the more complex magic that swells around me, pulsating through my body and blood.”
Isra slowly turned her head around as she looked towards a chestnut tree, standing alone, majestic in the landscape. She pulled her cloak closer around her neck, feeling a chill like ice water flowing down the back of her neck. The chill in the air told Isra that she should be getting going. She paused again, staring at the chestnut tree before she turned her head around again, not knowing what the call was, but something metaphysical was simmering nearby.
“I should be getting back. Astrid will be awaiting my presence,” she muttered.
Esme didn’t ask who Astrid was or why Isra had to get back so swiftly, she just sat basking in admiration for this woman that she hoped she could be like one day.
“But it has been great meeting you, dear . . . Oh, how silly of me, I never asked your name. What’s your name, child?” Isra asked.
Esme brought herself out of her staring session, smiling. She had never seen kindness like Isra’s before. She had no clue as to what Isra was, but just going off of the remarkable feat Esme had witnessed, Isra had great powers and was capable of things beyond Esme’s imagination.
Now, Esme’s father had always told her tall tales about evil witches. She had rarely heard tell of a witch being involved in the arts for a purpose of good but she mused that it was nice to witness such a thing manifest in front of her.
Esme wondered what Isra would be like in her darker moments. Earlier on in their meeting, she felt a dark energy surg
ing from Isra. Maybe in a certain situation with the wrong person, Isra could be far from good. However Esme couldn’t speculate about that as she had only experienced kindness and consideration from the woman.
“Esme. My name is Esme,” she said. “I should be going, as well. I must get back to Lazarus as he will be wondering where I am. He doesn’t even know that I was attacked!”
She smiled. It was clear now that she wasn’t alone in the world. She had met a perfect stranger on a riverbank, one whom she shared many similarities with in an uncanny way.
Who would have thought that this enchantress would have appeared when Esme was in such dire need, turning up at the exact moment when she felt so defeated? Now she’d met someone with such strength and found she could relate to that person.
Isra turned to leave, but outstretched her hand to say goodbye to Esme. Esme clutched the witch’s hand, feeling blessed as they touched for just a moment.
“Lazarus sounds like a fine fellow. My Astrid will be worried if I don’t return home soon too. I bid you good day, my child, and may you find that which you are seeking,” Isra said rather cryptically before she disappeared through the trees.
Before Esme could blink, her mysterious friend was gone.
22
Esme watched the sun setting. The dim glow of orange slipped away as night began to emerge behind subtle shades of gray and black.
As the fading sun disappeared beneath the sea, but she was grateful for so many things in her life. To begin with, she was no longer injured and could now swim through rough seas without any struggle.
The riverbank seemed different in the night. Something about it seemed so empty and desolate, yet one look at it in a different light and she saw the mystic sense that she felt when she had first arrived.
It was time to go. She had stopped here to rest her weak body, but that was no longer an issue as she had been healed by Isra.
A low feeling engulfed Esme all of a sudden. Esme felt like she was letting the kingdom down and in turn her father. Maybe he knew about her having this deadly mission and perhaps he had kept it a secret until the day when his body would no longer float above the water.
Maybe that had been the king’s ultimate plan, for Esme to find out about the curse when he wasn’t about. Then she would have no other choice but to fulfill her role as queen.
In any case, she couldn’t shake this low feeling of defeat and failure.
She was angry with herself. She felt furious with herself, that she’d wasted so much time already. The kingdom was still cursed! She had not managed to find the spell’s origination and had done nothing to defeat it.
She felt like time was slipping away from her. So much was at stake.
Maybe she just wasn’t good enough to beat this thing. Maybe she didn’t have the strength. She didn’t know what more could be learned by staying at the riverbank. The place only reminded her of all that she hadn’t done.
She could stay here longer and focus on these dismal thoughts, but she wasn’t sure what that would achieve.
No. She had been here long enough. There was nothing new to learn here. Time wasn’t getting any slower. Esme had to return to the dark and turbulent seas. And something told her that she needed to look around “in places unsuspecting.” She didn’t know what this meant but she was determined to go with her impulse and find out.
Esme wouldn’t be tumbling back into Lazarus’s arms yet, but that thought didn’t trouble her. She had a sneaking suspicion that he had an issue with her being solo on this mission, but she knew better. It was going to be more effective if she did this herself.
She wasn’t sure if Lazarus was supportive of her mission. She herself had had reservations about it since it had been forced upon her. But now she’d decided that she was going to take it on.
There in the depths of the water lay something that only Esme would know what it was when she found it.
Lazarus was frustrated with himself. Nixie’s voice grew harsher in her responses to his questions about the delay.
She always asserted her supremacy, and Lazarus knew it.
He’d been patient. He’d sat there in her dingy hovel waiting for her to come up with some hint as to where Esme was, but she had been unable to come up with anything, and now he was pissed.
Nixie had fooled around with that stupid sphere for hours. He wasn’t sure if it was all an act or if she was truly incompetent.
He began to assume that Nixie had no intention of finding Esme or that she didn’t want Lazarus to find her. He didn’t dare speak his thoughts out loud, though, for fear that the creature might stop him if he tried to escape.
Nixie seemed like a volatile creature, lacking patience but brimming with a great deal of hatred.
He wasn’t sure how long he could stay in this cramped hovel. Maybe if he made up some excuse, he could swim away. But would Nixie fall for that?
He wondered if she’d really allow him to leave, or more importantly whether he would be able to pull off such an act.
Because she was evil, after all. What better thing does an evildoer have to do but be evil? She had her heart set on enacting well-calculated acts of destruction and revenge designed to have a mermaid begging for her very life, praying for the end so that her pain would stop.
They would be calling on Nixie to have mercy, to relent and stop her cruelty, to release them from the chains.
Lazarus was a realist. He knew that someone like Nixie wouldn’t just drop her carefully crafted plans out of love or moral qualms. No, he’d have to come up with something more persuasive than that. It would take a clever tactic to defeat this ghastly creature.
He would have to play her at her own game! He wasn’t sure how he was going to get Nixie to let him leave, but he’d had plenty of time to think it over.
Lazarus heard Nixie hum a playful tune from the other side of the room. Her voice was harmonious as her fingers rested elegantly on a golden harp. Her fingers gracefully plucked the harp and sent ripples of white energy swirling around her, filtrating around her waist, moving as they sparked from her and exploded into tiny fragments of light.
Confused, Lazarus wasn’t sure if he was seeing right. He thought there was something wrong with his vision, but his eyesight was perfect, he knew that.
It would only take him a millisecond to spot an attacker from behind him. He was swift and could anticipate the move that the opponent would make before they made it.
Lazarus couldn’t believe that such a villain could have kind qualities. He also knew that a viper luring in its precious victim could do so without the unknowing soul ever seeing the danger.
Nixie hummed precisely, aware that he was watching her.
Silly merman, she thought. He really thinks that he’s got the goods! Oh, I’ll show him! I will really show him!
She turned away from Lazarus as a smile that could only be described as wicked formed across her face. Just what Nixie was up to would be anyone’s guess.
All that could be ascertained was that Lazarus had plunged into a pool of darkness and he would have been safer to stay in shallow waters.
Nixie wasn’t going to let him get out of this easily.
She was determined to see this through. The motivation in her was as prominent as the moon on a cloudless night. It burned in her very soul. Sizzling. Bubbling up as the blood danced, delighted with the prospect of a new kill.
23
Eerie shrieks surrounded her as she lingered a few feet away from the gates.
The icy blue of the former palace glowed as if in warning that this was some forbidden realm that she shouldn’t enter.
The noises hammered away at her. Piercing her earlobes. But she ignored them and shoved at the icy gate until it burst open. She grimaced as blue sludge stuck to her hands and fingers. She brushed it off but her hands remained sticky.
Esme looked back towards to the gate. Her eyes rested on the silhouette of her former home as she sighed and ventured forward.
Esme wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but something had to be here.
The water around her felt cold as she neared the door. The door was rough as she tugged on the trident-shaped knocker and pushed the door open.
The sight before her was not what she had expected. She had expected to see nothing, just piles of decaying ruins, but instead what she found was much worse.
The rooms that she had remembered so well were gone. All of the fancy golden interiors had corroded into a musty off-green that reminded Esme of a rotten avocado.
The once spectacular hallway was covered in a grotesque mold that spanned all the way from the ceiling down to the walls. No one would ever tell that it had been a beautiful summer yellow teamed up with shimmery gold.
The palace had only been abandoned a few days before but already it was rotten.
Esme’s heart was heavy as she continued down the hallway to the royal throne room.
This magnificent space once used for grand ceremonies was now reduced to a brown and dingy wreck.
Esme and King Nereus had lived here among all the courtiers and palace guards. King Nereus was situated in his quarters and Esme had her own bedroom down another passageway, so they rarely saw each other unless at meals or celebrations when Nixie joined them.
Nixie had never lived in the palace, though she had frequented the place when King Nereus was alive. She preferred to lounge around in her own domain. The king never disagreed with his wife’s choice of living arrangements, understanding that she needed her privacy. Even when Nixie was helping raise Esme, she had always gone back to her own home after wearisome days with Esme’s endless curiosity.
When Nixie told Esme of the king’s death, she stood in the throne room in her widow’s attire, a black dress with a well-placed black seashell around her neck. After she had done her duty in telling Esme, she had merrily scampered back to her home.
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