The middle of a story, conjured
The water in the deep cave rippled, tiny distortions on its surface that no one in the room even noticed. They were too busy arguing with one another. Outside, the snow fell heavy and there was no sign that it would let up any time soon.
One of the women was wearing a heavy coat, made of something undefinable but most closely resembling fur. It seemed an odd match for the medical scrubs she was wearing underneath. Her stance was that of someone very familiar with being the most powerful person in the room. She shook her arm emphatically in the direction of the water as her voice raised.
“What? Do you think you can just conjure some boat, magical enough to protect you?!” she shouted.
“Yes, I do.” This reply did nothing to calm the oldest of the three women standing there. The speaker was brimming with calm – the kind that spills over into rage in a split second and you won’t know its coming.
She continued, “Are you coming with us, Grace?”
“I don’t know. I want to, but everything tells me that I need to be here.” Now that she had exhausted her arguments against their departure, she shook, depleted from worry and sleep-deprivation.
Hope looked toward the water and warned her, “You don’t have much time to decide. Look.”
What had been tiny ripples only a few minutes earlier, were now rough waves that threatened to splash the ground at their feet. A molten mermaid was rising up out of the water, a dark figurehead with glowing eyes…
TO BE CONTINUED