There was no simplicity in the transaction between Adriannea and Wakanda. No magical transference of one souls’ voice to the other. No flash of light or explosion of glitter to mark that the voodoo had been done. There is no magic which can simply remove Adriannea’s larynx and place it within Wakanda’s decaying throat, only the paranormal capacity to bond the sinews and arteries.
So, using her own diamond hard nails, Adriannea cuts through her perfect skin, ,and removes a pulpy mass from her throat. Blood seeps from the organ as the ocean water mingles around it. Her wounds seal themselves easily, and although her blood regenerates, a faint scar is left where she cut through. She passes the handful to Wakanda who swallows it whole.
Adriannea waits as Wakanda focuses and chants. Their sacrifice for the spell hovers in a corner, its’ infant blood seeping into their cramped space. Although Wakanda insisted upon it, the presence of the young porpoise bleeding out slowly made Adriannea’s heart ache for the poor creature. Not before long, Adriannea cannot even see Wakanda through the red clouded water. She waits, stroking the fins of the baby cetacean, grimacing as it struggles to move. By now its lungs are ready to inhale, but it will never find air. She tries to sing to it, but realizes that without her voice, she cannot make a sound.
Her own melodic voice then echoes through Wakanda’s cave;
“It is done. When you arise next from sleep, your body will transform. For one cycle of the moon around the earth you will walk among human beings, but unless you are able to plant a genetic seed within your body in that time to complete the transformation, you will turn back into your eternal design. As a human, you will be mortal, and you will feel pain.”
Adriannea feels the cave, and swims circles around a piece of porous coral. Removing the blood that had gathered in her hair and scales. Then she swims eastwards, she is so fast, that to the other fish she seems only a shadow. It wouldn’t be long before she needed rest, and so it was essential she hurry.
Meanwhile back in her fissure of desolation, Wakanda feasts upon the calf. All these long years she had waited to return to her family, and now… That woman with her spells had tricked her, told her that the curse could be reversed. But to reverse the spell, one needed a human voice, and when she had turned into the part fish, part monster that she is, her voice changed. the gills distorted her voice, and took the place of her voice box. Wakanda readies herself. Long ago she collected the five shells she would need to reverse the spell. She sprints to the surface of the water. When she reaches the shore she arranges the shells in the shape of a pentagram, and traces strange runes into the sand with her sickly fingernails. The beach she has chosen was once a thriving village, but no longer. She can see traces of the long house, old drying racks fallen on their sides and half buried by the sand.
“Return to me, humanity,” she whispers, to complete the ritual. “What a beautiful voice I will have,” she notes to herself, and waits.
What she failed to recognize, was the state of the remaining parts of her human form. She had not looked upon herself in any sort of reflection for centuries, and only the immortality of the spell had kept her precious human flesh from decomposing entirely. As the spell leaves her, her skin comes in contact with the air, and begins to fall from her in pieces. She watches her legs transform, and then crumble away like a sand castle in the way of the tide. She tries to collect herself, but her muscles and ligaments simply give way. When her body is fully returned to human form, her skull collapses, and a darkness as entire as the night sky consumes her.