The Mistress of the Lake (Chapter Five)

She looked up at the sky; it too appeared at calm. No Electric Storms brewing this time. How strange to have been through such an intense experience with no corroboration whatsoever? How was it that there was absolutely no proof that what had come to pass had actually happened? As she pondered at the events that had just come and gone, her gaze browsed her surroundings, and she observed the breathtaking scenery that lay around her: lush grass patches delineated a dirt path that lead to a cluster of tall trees and through them, she discerned a glistening lake that beckoned her.

She followed the path that lead to this oasis of sorts. She was mesmerised by this new and inviting natural setting that appeared like a haven before her. The lake shimmered radiantly, and was embraced by rocks all around and had a playful, flowing waterfall as its centerpiece, so spectacularly marvelous that it almost brought tears to her eyes. Its striking beauty left her feeling bereft and with a strange sense as if an internal void filled her insides. The only thing she felt was utter awe in front of its astounding appearance: a place of utter enchantment, it was a psychedelic pallet of alien colours, bursting with shades and textures that seemed like the work of something magical, something celestial. All this abundance of hues and was like food for her soul after the deathlike House and all its lividness.

She began to feel a pressing need for a taste of the crystal clear water now. She approached the brim of the lake that looked so peaceful, so glassy, so still and welcoming. She could not resist cupping her hands and immersing them into the water’s cold depths; the chill against her skin immediately shook her, instigating a sense of  elation, making her feel alive again. That bygone sensation. She did not hesitate to drink, quenching her thirst in three plentiful gulps, and reveled in the pleasure of satisfying this long, lost basic need. She rested on her knees at the lake’s bank, taking in this sublime moment and admired the rippling waters as they gradually returned to their undisturbed state.

Then, in the glossy stillness, she noticed an effervescing activity in the depths. Bubbles began to surface from below, dancing ecstatically until they burst when making contact with the air at the surface. She leaned over onto the lake’s shore to get a better look, and it was then when she saw a beguiling, ethereal creature with long, exotic hair framing her fragile face, looking back at her. It seemed like a glorified reflection. But not for long. The reflection rose from below the water to reveal an ethereal being that resembled herself, but not quite; a type of siren, mystical and detached but also so familiar.

The siren stared at her for a few moments before diving back into the depths and swam away from the shore, towards the waterfall. She perched herself upon a rock that lay at its base, so at ease, as if not acknowledging another’s presence. She seemed a tranquil, melancholic creature with translucent, silver toned skin above the waist; dark blue iridescent scales formed a graceful tail below that shone as she moved her tail fins. Her skin was so transparent that mauve veins could be discerned even from the distance, while at times they appeared to be pulsating.

Their faces resembled each other, yet she was unsure whether the siren was a friend or foe to her. She could not decide. Until the siren leaned back, suddenly aware that she had to address her dumbfounded visitor. In one moment that seems to change the atmosphere instantly, the siren stared her dead in the eyes, with a glare that seemed to penetrate her soul. This was the siren’s lake, and she was a only a humble passerby who had been seduced by its allurement, and suddenly she felt guilty for having disturbed the still waters.

There was something so unsettling and cold in that stare that made the atmosphere became remarkably heavy. It felt colder and darker with each second that passed. It was that kind of stare that forebode ominous things to come. And just like that, the siren looked away and resumed her previous coyness, lifting the heavy atmosphere, making everything feel warm again. Closely observing the siren, her movements seemed effortlessly harmonious yet calculated and at the same time they were so fragile and so elegant. It was like a performance of some sort, and a transfixing one at that; this being could make her surroundings reflect her mood. Yet the smirk of satisfaction on her delicate, pixie-like face foretold that she was, in fact, expecting this particular visitor.

As if reading her visitor’s mind, the siren spoke. “Mysteria is my name” she said, in an echo of a voice, so soft and soothing but with such a powerful, lingering reverb that filled the entire space between them. Innately, this was not enough to satisfy the strong desire to find out more about this mysteriously enchanting being. And as if the siren sensed this, Mysteria spoke again. “I know who you are”, she said, as she combed her thick, blueish hair with her slim, elongated fingers that revealed long, pointy nails. This instigated a silent, internal line of questions. “How does she know who I am? How could she? Why should she?”

The siren had large violet eyes that gleamed as if they were made of a blue fire in their core. She had a solid, penetrating stare, as she played with her hair and glided her fins, there, perched on the rock, reveling in the cognizance of reading this stream of questions as they formed. And she did not blink once neither did she look away, making the atmosphere unsettling once again. More questions now flooded her mind. “Did she mean well? Was she good or was she evil? And how did she know?” These questions seemed utterly inconsequential. She knew she would not get an answer, and in fact she didn’t matter. Instead she asked what seemed to be of more importance.

“Tell me, what is this place?”. The siren was still for a few seconds, as if collecting all the memories which were to become words in the moments to come. Then, in a single movement she dove into the waters and seemed to disappear. Strangely enough, the lake’s perimeter did not look shallow with a gradual incline into the deep. It more resembled a fathomless pit of liquid darkness that only became transparent within a short distance from the surface. The siren rose up from the bleak depths and resurfaced where she had first initially appeared; under the water that had been disturbed, at the shore. Her violet eyes had now widened and were still glaring. There was a touch of yearning in them and there was a confusing smirk of undisclosed satisfaction drawn on her lilac lips.

“This is a place full of pain, full of loss, full of bereavement. This is the Lake of Woe, and it is filled with the tears of Arion, the long, lost unicorn.” There was no question about who Arion was. She had heard the name time and time again, repeated by the voices in her head back in the days when she was self-confined in the Forest of Forever. He was a protector, a divine creature who had vanished, never to return. The voices had many versions behind the reason for his disappearance. “He was cast out of the Valley of Fortune by, who is now, the Mistress of the Lake”, Mysteria continued. “To speak her name is to summon her, and to summon her brings devastation to this place and all who may be unfortunate enough to call it home.”

‘The Mistress of the Lake’ she repeated in the silence of her thoughts. She had heard of her before. The voices had spoken of her. ‘But who was she? Surely, it was not Mysteria, so why was she in this lake?’ It all felt so out of place.

The plush greenery that surrounded her, the lake, the shrubs, the trees, the bushes, that she initially found so immaculate, enough to her give a newfound strength and a sense of elation, now began to rattle and all the life that clandestinely resided in them, birds, small mammals and insects, skidded away all at once at the wondering of the Mistress’ identity. A chilly breeze that turned into a cold whirlwind stormed through the oasis like a visceral vortex. The siren sunk deep into the depths of the lake and then reappeared at the foot of the waterfall once again, but whose rippling waters now glided over her, bending around her. “I know of the Mistress you speak of”, she said to the siren and the siren, almost alarmed at this unjustified, courageous remark, submerged herself into the waters yet another time.

The lake did not glisten now, not anymore. It began darkening, becoming murkier with every moment that went by. It was far from glistening and there were no reflections anymore. The water had become a black pool of liquid nothingness. It looked like liquid granite. “Do you dare speak her name?” the siren’s voice taunted her, but she was nowhere to be seen. The echo of her question bounced off from the trees, the rocks, the rippling waterfall that was now on mute and the liquid black lake’s surface, even from the ground she sat on. Hesitation. She did not know the true name of the Mistress of the Lake; she only knew of her existence.

And just then, a name came to her mind, instantly. It burned, it singed, it stung her, and it took over her entire being. She could not resist nor refuse it; she could not deny nor dismiss it. “Shivara”, “Shivara”. It was as if the voices had found her again, flooding her mind with their whispers, their laments, their shrieks. They all chimed the name in synchrony; in a chant; in an incantation she could not escape. She closed her eyes as if to shut it out, but it was to no avail. As if sensing her resistance, it became louder than ever this time, “Shivara!” but then came a silence. A deafening one. She opened her eyes to see the siren perched on the rock at the base of where there used to be a waterfall. In fact, the scenery had become almost entirely barren. It was almost like a different place. Utterly arid; nothing like the mystical haven that had lured her to its shelter.

The siren’s back was turned to her, and her hair had gone an all-consuming shade of vantablack that moved with no provocation. The siren was still, and there was no breeze or sound in and the environment seems stale, stagnant, as an uncomfortable vacuity prevailed. As for the siren’s skin, it was no longer translucent and sultry, but rather scaly, coarse and thick. As if knowing how she was being observed, without moving her noxious body, her head rotated independently so that her transfigured face faced the shore. It was no longer the  Mysteria of past, the spritely siren with the alluring, humanoid appearance. She had transformed; or something else had taken her place. The creature that now stared blankly back towards the shore more resembled a serpent-fish with large, bulging eyes, and slits instead of nostrils. She made strange, twitching movements with her limbs and tail fins. Her repulsive body now turned in a rotating motion to match the direction of the face that exuded a hypnotic expression, with the disturbing eyes fixated, staring deep into the mind and soul of the visitor on the shore.

Armed with a courage that almost felt foreign, the girl on the shore asked the creature. “Mysteria, is that you?” The gorgon let out a hysterical laugh. “You dare not speak the name of my Mistress but you know it well enough. And you also know that Mysteria is not here now. I, Hexia am the keeper of the lake, and a devoted disciple to the Mistress that commands the Darkness within all beings. You know her name, I heard your mind utter it again and again. It was that name that drew me from the depths of Mysteria’s soul. You may have duped Mysteria with your meekness, but you have a summoning power we have not come across before that will make you a formidable ally to us. Speak her name and she shall appear to us! She will answer and bring you many gifts of the dark. Join us and she will end your eternal anguish!”

The girl on the shore felt a shudder, as the face of Shivara began to take form in her mind. It took all her might to silence the name from voicing itself, but she could not block out the visual of a female form so menacing that she actually felt physical pain. With every fiber of her body, she strived to shut out the formation of two flaming red eyes and a breath that forebode death in every whisper. “Speak it!”, Hexia demanded with a fervent desire that made her repulsive mouth salivate. “Speak it, and you will be rewarded,” she coaxed. The daunting name came to her mind once again as though Hexia’s persistent request drew it out from the mental shackles she tried to bind it in. The flaming eyes gleamed as Hexia’s chilling voice chanted “Shivara” inside her head, thrice. At that, the ground began to tremble and the water in the dark lake shook.

Left and right of the rock upon which Hexia was perched, arose two figures equally dark and disturbing as the gorgon. They swam to Hexia, sat on each of her sides and began whispering in her ears, conspiring with their sister in great excitement. They sniggered and cackled, they argued and bantered until they spoke clearly. “She can do it, she can lift the unicorn’s spell. The Mistress will be so pleased. She has a remarkable sight of mind. No one was ever woken us before! She must be the one” Budsturga said. “She won’t do it, there is not enough darkness within her, she resists with uncanny tenacity. But it would be a shame not to try. Oh, let me have her Hexia, let me make her!” Batibat urged on. “Ssssilence sisters”, Hexia hissed with a lisp that was reminiscent of Leviathan. She then remembered Leviathan and his command to descend. He wanted her to find herself in this place, before the triad of gorgons who relished at the thought of turning her into a conduit of darkness.