She of the Sea

32 of 53 - A Storied Metamorphosis

Cassie remembered none of her time caught up with the sponges. She had been unable to breathe or release the air in her lungs. After being injected with venom, she had a sense the sponges had kept her blood oxygenated. She passed out. When she woke, she was lying on the beach, weak and winded.

Had she swum there? She couldn't recall. If she did, it had been in some fugue state.

Her custodian had done well, hiding her in the scrub. Cassie trusted the man would take care of and guard her during the change. After sending Webb away, fibrous tendrils sprouted from all over her body at each of the spicule injection sites. The strands were tough like wire and grew against her, sticking to her skin, enveloping her.

She wasn't afraid. Cassie didn't try to tear away the tendrils and trusted they wouldn't harm her. She closed her eyes and relaxed. She fell into a deep sleep.

When she awoke, the tendrils had completely cocooned her. She couldn't move, but she could breathe. When she opened her eyes, she saw nothing but black as if blind. After an initial shock of panic, she experienced a sense of calm.

Her mother never had the opportunity to explain what would happen, yet Cassie instinctively understood the experience to be normal.

She was neither hot nor cold. The cocoon regulated her body temperature. Although she hadn't eaten or drunk anything, she felt no hunger pangs or thirst.

In the distance, she could hear the surf breaking against the beach. Their gentle rhythm soothed her. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

And then...the visions came.

*   *   *

Kneeling at the water's edge, Calliope allows the sea to wash over her hands and legs. She stands and addresses her sister. "The sea speaks of ships returning from a victorious battle."

"They must not come this way!" Carillon exclaims. "The sea also speaks of a great storm. The warriors will be dashed against the rocks of Scylla."

"Or lost in the maelstrom of Charybdis."

"We must warn them," Carillon speaks with urgency.

"They will not listen," Calliope responds, "Men are possessed of foolish pride."

"Yet we must try. We will sing our warning song."

"Yes, the sea will carry our voices."

"Come, sister, come. We must climb onto the rocks, better for them to see us."

The women are slender and tall with long brown hair, pulchritudinous in their flowing white gowns.

Calliope gasps, "They come!"

"As does the storm," Carillon adds.

The fleet approaches even as the sisters sing their song of alarm. The haughty men hear, but they scoff at the warning. What do two youthful maidens know of storms and the whim of the sea? We are the conquerors and wise old masters of the water.

Except one captain hears and heeds the warning. He fills his sailor's ears with wax so they cannot listen to their companions ridicule them from the other ships. They alone sail on and away from danger.

The rest plow recklessly into angry waters, lightning, and thunder. Scylla and Charybdis claim their vessels.

The sisters disrobe and dive into the churning waters, their long tails propelling them forward at the speed of dolphins, desperate to save as many warriors as they can.