The Wings of Ashtaroth

Chapter 10: Monsters: Section I: Iridescia

Iridescia: The Haven: Ipsis: Indas

Black water filled Iridescia's lungs as Star's men held her under. Her world was clouding over, dark shapes swimming in her vision as weariness overtook her, and she was no longer able to thrash at her attackers. Beneath her, from the bottom of the pool, inhuman fingers scratched at her heels, tickling her skin.

The men holding her let go, and Iridescia realized all too calmly that she had died. Why else would they release her?

She drifted down in a slow, vertical drop toward the bottom of a bottomless pool. Her arms were heavy as stone, too weighted to swim. The water was taking her, its cold mass seeping inside her, filling her. She was part of the Haven now. As she sank deeper, her thoughts seemed to fly from her like a flock of startled birds: images of Roewyn and Liberio and Miqipsi.

The moonlight shining overhead was a blurred shape above her—yellow but fading, undulating and distant. How far until she reached the bottom? It seemed a long time since she'd started to fall. Would her mother be down there waiting? Would her arms be wide and warm? Iridescia couldn't remember her mother's name. But even without one, Iridescia wished she were there to hold her hand.

So cold.

The shadowy hands were closer. They wrapped around her, caressing her legs and crawling up her waist. Their voices nestled against her, a physical presence that seemed to thicken the water.

So sad, so sad, the voices whispered to her. So cold, so cold.

Poor boy, poor girl.

Witch of the western desert.

Illuminata.

Radia.

Lumia.

Light. All were words for light. And as they spoke, a light found her, colouring the water an eerie, greenish yellow. Iridescia sleepily lifted her hand. It looked ashen, drowned like the waving hands of the men tied to the bottom of the palace canal in her mother's memory. She was underwater. She was a fish. She laughed silently inside her head. The fish were speaking to her now, calling her, calling her by other names, but calling her.

Tifawt.

Tinhinan.

Ora.

Iridescia. Iridescia. Iridescia.

Iridescia was playing by the riverbank, digging a hole in the mud, searching for polished stones and treasure that had washed ashore. Miqipsi called to her from the docks, telling her to come home. There might be hippopotamuses to gobble her up, or a flash flood could wash her away, or a crocodile snap at her legs. He appeared at the crest of the bank and Iridescia waved. Two of her old slaves, Lunya and Aiyya, stomped along beside him, their round faces sweat-slick from traipsing through the thick, liquid earth. They'd come to save her from Miqipsi's imagined dangers. It hadn't mattered that the dangers were pretend.