Taking a deep breath, I filled my lungs with the sweet, fragrant air. For a moment, I simply floated, letting the gentle current cradle me, my gaze fixed on the moon. Then, with a graceful arch of my back, I began to dance.
My movements, fluid and precise, were a language older than words, a ritual passed down through generations of Encantados. Each twist and turn, each leap and dive, was a prayer for Inaiá’s recovery, a plea to the moon and river, the ancient spirits of our world, to lend their healing power to my sister.
My tail, shimmering silver in the moonlight, cut through the water, creating swirling patterns of light and shadow. My arms outstretched toward the moon, I traced graceful arcs in the air as if weaving a spell of protection around my ailing sister. My heart, heavy with worry, poured its anguish into the dance, each movement a testament to my unwavering love and devotion.
The river, usually a constant companion, felt different here, on the surface, under the open sky. It carried a different energy, a wilder, more untamed power. And yet, it also felt familiar, a connection to my home, to my people, to the life I was leaving behind, perhaps forever.
As the dance reached its crescendo, I leaped high into the air, my body a shimmering arc against the backdrop of the moonlit sky. For a fleeting moment, I felt a sense of weightlessness, freedom, and pure, unadulterated joy. Then, with a gentle splash, I returned to the water, the echoes of my dance rippling outward, carrying my prayers and hopes into the night.
The ritual complete, I turned toward the distant glow of the human city. Taking one last look at the moon, I plunged beneath the surface, my heart filled with a mixture of trepidation and unwavering resolve.
The river, now dark and deep beneath the surface, felt colder than I remembered, the familiar comfort of home replaced by a chilling sense of the unknown. With each powerful stroke of my tail, I propelled myself farther away from the safety of the grotto toward the alien world of humans.
The thought of failure was a physical weight, a stone in my gut threatening to drag me to the riverbed. It wasn’t just the fear of losing Inaiá, but the terror of what came after. Exile. The word was a curse on the tongues of our elders. I wasn’t just being cast out—I would be severed. A slow, spiritual death where the river’s magic, the very essence of my being, would no longer answer our call. To be an Encantado cut off from the river was to become a ghost, a faded memory trapped on land until the soul withered into dust.
The queen’s warning echoed in my mind, no longer just words, but vivid, bloody images passed down through generations.The Great Betrayal.I could almost see it—the glint of human steel in the moonlight, the water stained crimson, thecries of our kin echoing in the depths as their trust was met with nets and spears. Humans didn’t just hunt us, they had once tried to enslave us, to steal our magic for their petty wars and fleeting ambitions. This was the history that fueled our laws, the terror that built the walls around our world.
The current, usually a playful companion, now felt like a relentless force, pushing me forward, urging me onward. The familiar sounds of the river—the gentle murmur of the water, the clicking of crustaceans, the soft songs of the river dolphins—were replaced by an eerie silence, broken only by the rhythmic beat of my heart.
The closer I swam to the human city, the more the water grew heavy, clinging to my skin like a shroud. The familiar clarity of my home surrendered to a murky gloom, and I felt the slick film of their refuse brush against my tail. When I surfaced, the air was no longer a relief but a chemical bitterness that burned in my throat and made me ache for the sweet, living scent of the rainforest.
This pollution and carelessness were proof of the queen’s warnings. Proof of their disregard for the life that sustained them. My fear, once a slithering serpent, now had fangs, sharpened by the memory of my ancestors’ pain. With each surge of that fear, I pushed it back, replacing it with the image of Inaiá’s pale face, her shallow breaths, her weakening pulse. My terror of humans could not outweigh my love for her.
After what felt like an eternity, the faint glow of the human city became visible in the distance. As I swam closer, a strange sound reached my ears, a rhythmic pulsing that grew louder with each stroke. It was unlike anything I had ever heard before. Curious, I surfaced cautiously, peering through the reeds that lined the riverbank.
And then I saw it. A massive structure towering over the riverbank, pulsating with light and sound. It was a humanbuilding, larger than any tree I had ever seen, its windows glowing like a thousand fiery eyes. And from within its depths, the rhythmic pulsing continued, a hypnotic, mesmerizing beat that seemed to vibrate through the very water itself.
The pulsating glow, the strange, rhythmic thrumming, this had to be the human city. A wave of trepidation washed over me, cold and suffocating. My instincts screamed at me to turn back, to return to the familiar safety of the river. But the image of Inaiá’s pale face and her labored breaths suppressed those fears. With a deep breath and a silent prayer to the river spirits, I plunged beneath the surface once more, swimming toward the muddy bank.
This was it.
The moment of transformation.
The first time I would fully embrace my human form.
What if I couldn’t do this?
What if I failed?
But then I pushed those doubts aside, fueled by the burning ember of hope that still flickered within me. Inaiá needed me. And I wouldn’t fail her.
Reaching the edge of the bank, I felt the cool, slick mud squelch between my fingers, a strange, foreign texture. The air, thick with the unfamiliar scents of earth and decaying leaves, filled my lungs, dry and rasping. A wave of dizziness washed over me as my gills sealed shut, the familiar rhythm of water replaced by the harsh, unfamiliar pull of air. For a moment, panic flared through me, and I thought I’d suffocate. Then, with a shuddering gasp, my lungs expanded, drawing in the atmosphere.
A tingling heat spread through my body, starting from the tip of my tail and radiating outward like wildfire. My dolphin skin, once smooth and pliable beneath the water, began to harden, tightening against my flesh. The sensation was unsettling, like athousand tiny needles pricking me as they morphed into human skin.
My tail’s powerful muscles constricted, shrinking, the bones fusing and reshaping into the slender bones of human legs. The webbing between my fingers and toes receded, leaving behind delicate, separated digits tipped with the unfamiliar hardness of fingernails.
The world around me shifted and sharpened. The muted colors of the riverbed were replaced by the vibrant hues of the rainforest. The gentle murmur of the current became a mix of sounds—the rustling of leaves, the chirping of insects, the distant calls of unseen animals. My senses, once attuned to the subtle vibrations of the water, were bombarded by the overwhelming stimuli of the land.
The emotional impact was just as jarring. A sense of loss, sharp and profound, pierced through me as the last vestiges of my Encantado form disappeared. The river, my home, my sanctuary, felt suddenly distant, alien. I was no longer one of them.I am… human. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.
A tremor of uncertainty ran through me. Could I truly do this? Could I navigate this strange, new world and find the flower that held the key to my sister’s survival?
The transformation left me standing on the riverbank, a human rooted in soft mud. Where the river had always yielded, the earth pushed back, brutally solid and unmoving. I took a tentative step, then another, each one a negotiation with gravity, a foreign weight pressing down on a body that had only ever known how to float.
My legs felt weak, unsteady, and unaccustomed to supporting my weight. But with each step, a new sense of determination solidified within me.
This was it.
