Serpent

Selkine and Tarst stood at the cliffside, staring at the water. A V was cutting through the waves, the kind that would be made by something very large moving underwater. Multicolored lights glimmered in the water, just visible in the daylight. The V stopped and the water rippled as something began to rise. A massive reptilian head emerged from the water’s surface and began ascending. The serpent rose higher and higher, until its head was level with the cliff and the two humans standing on it.

The pair stared into six shimmering eyes. The creature was covered in ebony scales dotted in patches that glowed green, blue, or purple, like some kind of unearthly night sky. Above the nose and from the sides of the enormous face were several whiskers, the tendrils reaching almost all the way down to the ocean below. Two of the tendrils lifted up and reached towards the humans.

“You had me worried you’d be late for a second there,” said Tarst, extending an arm for the tendril to wrap around.

“I, on the other hand, had faith and trust in you as a friend,” said Selkine, doing the same. Tarst shot them a look and they grinned back.

The sea monster for a moment trembled. Tarst had known that face long enough to read its emotions, and right now it was confused. The serpent closed its six eyes and trembled again, but nothing else happened. The eyes opened, looking worried.

“Are you having trouble changing back?” Tarst asked, concerned. The serpent nodded.

“Hey, hey, don’t panic,” said Selkine, “Take a breath, clear your head.” The serpent’s head laid down on the ground in front of them. The eyes closed again. The tendrils tightened around both of their arms, and Tarst gave it a comforting pet.

The serpent just breathed for a few seconds. Then its scales started to shudder again, but this time, they also shrank and melted together. In a few seconds, the serpent was gone and instead a teenage girl in a gray t-shirt and shorts was kneeling on the ground, each of her hands being held by one of her friends. Tarst and Selkine knelt down next to her. “Karla, are you alright?”
“Yeah… Yeah, I’m good.” She released them and looked up, brushing her hair out of her face. “Actually, uh, I’m sort of not. What was that!? It’s never been that hard before!”

Selkine winced at the volume. They loved Karla, but she had a tendency to go from quiet to quite loud without warning. “Your guess is as good as mine. Better, actually, since you’re the shapeshifter.”

“I don’t know what was,” said Karla, “The last few times I’ve changed it’s been a bit more difficult than usual but that time it just… wasn’t happening!” She stared at the ground, chewing her lip for a few seconds, before looking up. “Sorry guys, I need to cancel on hanging out today. I need to go talk to Ijaya. She’ll know what to do.”

“No worries,” said Tarst, “Do what you got to do. Just be careful.” Tarst had never met Karla’s mysterious tutor in shapeshifting, but he’d always thought his friend could do to be a little more cautious around her. You had to be careful with magical entities.

Karla nodded and headed off, climbing over the rocks that shielded this tiny secluded piece of cliffside. She walked on for a few minutes, for the most part following the cliffs, before sitting down on a mossy boulder. She hadn’t been headed anywhere in particular, she just needed to be alone.

“Ijaya?” she asked.

A seagull swooped over her head and landed in front of her. Its feathers were as black as the depths of the sea Karla had personally witnessed, and its eyes were pure red. “Yes?” said Ijaya. Her beak shouldn’t have been able to make that sound, and yet it did. Or perhaps she was merely squawking and it somehow translated in Karla’s mind into words. Much like many things about Ijaya, it would remain a mystery.

“I’ve got a problem,” said Karla, “Earlier today I went out for a swim and I came back a few minutes ago but when I tried to turn back into my human form, I couldn’t. I was stuck. I got there eventually, but for a second there it was really scary.”

Ijaya regarded the human levelly. Reading a bird’s face was a skill that took practice, but she didn’t look surprised in the least right now. “Pity. I was hoping that you would be an exception.”

“Exception to what? This isn’t the time to go all cryptic on me.”

“This is common in humans with your gift,” Ijaya explained, “Those blessed with a duality of form, as they grow older, begin to lose the ability to transition between the two. It almost always occurs at around eighteen, so I suspected this was coming. It is natural. The flexibility of youth begins to fade away, and a more static existence emerges.”

“So I’m losing my ability to shapeshift!?”

“That is correct.”

Karla stared out at the horizon for a few seconds. Then she started screaming obscenities. She went on doing so for some time. There were a couple that Ijaya hadn’t even heard before. When she was finished she held her head in her hands. “So,” she said, “I just have to… live the rest of my life remembering what it was like to be the serpent, remembering how wonderful it feels and knowing that I can’t ever have that again?”

“Not necessarily.”

When it didn’t seem like Ijaya was going to elaborate, Karla asked, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice, “What do you mean?”

“When you were out swimming today, did you notice any strain? Any pain or stress upon yourself out of the ordinary?”

Karla wasn’t sure where her friend was going with this. “No?”

“You are not losing the ability to be the serpent, only the ability to transition between shapes. And this talent is not wholly lost. I estimate you have it in you to change shape one more time. You could turn into the serpent and live the rest of your life in that shape. It would likely be a significantly longer life as well, as that form ages much more slowly.”

“Are you telling me that I should leave behind my humanity and everyone I know?”

“No,” said Ijaya, “I am telling you that you can. I am only presenting you with the choice. What you do with it is your own business, which I have no stake in.”

“It’s not a choice! Of course I’d stay human. I mean, I will stay human.”

“Then do so. All you have to do is not turn back into the serpent until your power fades completely, which will take around two weeks.”

Karla wanted to say that Ijaya wasn’t being helpful, but bit it back because she was being helpful. Karla had no idea how she would have navigated her power if Ijaya hadn’t shown up out of nowhere to guide her after she had first become the serpent. She didn’t know what Ijaya was; she’d once asked the seagull if she was human and she’d responded that she wasn’t. But she did know that Ijaya had been nothing but patient and kind to her, even if a bit cryptic or apathetic at times.

“It’s just… damn it, it’s frustrating! I almost feel like it would be better if I didn’t have a choice.” Karla could feel guilt rising up to join the sadness and frustration. How could she even be considering this? Well she wasn't, she was just… considering considering it.

“Choices are cruel things,” said Ijaya, “You needn’t make this one now. You still have time. Continue to contemplate this choice and live your life, but I urge you not to ignore it.”

Karla was about to say that there wasn’t much to contemplate and it was an easy choice, but she knew that would be a lie. There wasn’t any point in lying to Ijaya; she didn’t care enough about your answer for it to be worth lying about. Instead she said, “What do you recommend?”

For a moment Karla thought the seagull looked sad, which shouldn’t have been possible on a bird’s face. “The decision you will have to make will be a painful one, no matter its outcome. But it is a pain I would not dream of taking from you.” With that Ijaya lifted off into the air. Karla closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them, Ijaya was nowhere to be seen.

Karla took out her phone and texted Tarst and Selkine, “Okay, talked to Ijaya and learned some things. I need a little time to myself, but can we talk tomorrow?” After a minute, both texted back their confirmation.

Karla took Ijaya’s advice and thought about her choice. She thought about it as she walked home and was thinking about it as she greeted her parents and headed to her room. She laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about it. She thought about it as she headed to her job at the grocery store, and thought about it as she put boxes of cereal on shelves. At that point, she was sick of thinking about it but found she couldn’t stop. She briefly managed to think about other things as she headed back to her house and made herself a snack, apple slices, since she’d forgotten to have lunch. Then she started thinking about it again when she headed back to her room and saw the college pamphlets on her desk. She’d had two criteria when looking at colleges: First, that it was near the coast so she could still regularly swim in the sea as the serpent. Second, that it had a program in magozoology, as Karla had wanted to learn more about magical creatures to better understand her own gift. She supposed neither requirement was relevant anymore. Either she’d be just an ordinary human who wouldn’t need those things or she’d be a serpent that didn’t go to college. Absolutely free to roam the ocean, to feel the thrill of the currents rushing across her scales, to dance and hunt and play in the waves as she pleased, unbound and invulnerable. She screamed into a pillow.

The next day, Karla and her friends met up at their usual spot: Selkine’s house. It had been chosen because it was closest to the cliff and their parents were the most frequently busy and unlikely to bother them.

“So what did the old bird tell you?” Selkine asked. They were sitting on their bed, Tarst and Karla on the floor beneath them.

“Ijaya said that I’m losing my ability to shapeshift. I can probably still make one last shift, so I have to choose if I want to live the rest of my life as a serpent or a human.”

“Shit,” said Tarst, “I’m sorry, man. But… that’s not an actual choice, right?”

Karla looked into his eyes, at the confusion and the worry in them. She wanted to laugh and say “of course it isn’t” and at the same time she wanted to scream “Of course it fucking is!” Apparently her vocal cords decided to compromise by tightening up, leaving her looking at him silently like an idiot. She gave a weak shrug.

Tarst gave a small nervous laugh and said, “Come on, Karla. I… look I get that you loved being the serpent and I’ll admit it’s really cool and it really sucks to lose that. But to live your entire life as it? You can’t talk, you can’t go on land, you don’t even have hands to write with. You’ll basically be unable to communicate with people ever again. Including us. And your parents, and everyone else you know.”

“I know!” said Karla miserably, “But… you don’t get it. You don’t know what it feels like. The serpent’s not just fun and cool. It makes me feel strong and special and happy and perfect. I can’t bear the thought of losing that.”

“But you can bear losing us?” Tarst stopped and took a deep breath. “Sorry, this is about you, not us. And you’re right, I don’t know what it’s like to be a magical sea serpent. I wish that you could keep your ability to change, I really do. But being the serpent for the rest of your life isn’t going to make you happy. Maybe at first it will, but I just know you’ll regret it.”

“Maybe,” said Karla, feeling wretched.

“Cutting off everyone you know isn’t healthy. You’ll get lonely. And look at it this way: You won’t be any worse off than anyone else. You won’t lose any of your humanity. Believe it or not, a lot of people who can’t turn into giant monsters live very happy lives.”

“You’re right.” Deep down though, Karla didn’t think she fully believed it. Guilt bloomed in response. He was right, of course he was right. He was right.

“I don’t know,” said Selkine carefully, “I think you can’t really know what choice is right until you make it.”

Tarst seemed like he was about to say something but thought better of it. Instead, he said, “Still, I don’t think losing the ability to be human is a good idea.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Karla, “Just… can I have a hug?”

Tarst’s face softened. “Of course,” he said, “I’m so sorry you have to go through all this, dude.” He opened his arms and Karla scooted over to embrace him. Selkine got down off the bed and knelt to join the hug.

“Thanks,” said Karla, “I just want to think about something else for a bit. Do you guys want to watch a movie or something?”

“Sure,” said Selkine, “I’ll even let you pick.”

The three headed to the living room and put on one of Karla’s comfort movies to watch together on the couch. 

Afterward, Tarst said, “Okay, I really have to be getting home. Karla, you ever need someone to talk to about this, you can call me.”

Karla nodded and gave a slightly forced smile as Tarst turned to leave. “Actually I should probably also head-” She stopped when Selkine put a finger to their lips. They were clearly listening for something. They waited until they heard the sound of Tarst opening and closing the front door as he left.

“I love Tarst,” said Selkine, lowering their finger, “And I know he truly does mean well, but I think he’s wrong.”

“About what?” Karla asked.

Selkine lifted their eyebrows in a really? expression. “You know what about. The choice you need to make.”

“Are you saying that I should choose to become the serpent?” Karla asked.

Selkine shrugged. “Maybe. Let me ask you a hypothetical: Imagine a dragon came along tomorrow and burned the whole town to the ground. Me, Tarst, your family, everyone you know, let’s even say Ijaya too, why not, all burned to a crisp. You somehow survive. Do you choose to be a human or a serpent?”

“What kind of question is that?!” Karla exclaimed.

“The kind you should answer,” Selkine replied calmly.

“Okay,” said Karla. After a few seconds she said, “I guess I’d choose to be the serpent. But that’s a really different hypothetical from real life.”

“Right,” said Selkine, “And if it was only your family you lost?”

“These are some really dark hypotheticals,” said Karla, “But… I don’t know what I’d do then.”

“Why?” Selkine asked, “There’s good chances you won’t still be close with me, Tarst, or anyone else here in a few years. Your family’s the only thing you’re likely to have for most of your life, and we’ve established that if you lost all your current social connections, you’d choose serpent.”

“What point are you trying to make?”

“That you want to be the serpent.”

“Of course I do!” Karla exclaimed, “I thought that was clear! But do I want it bad enough that I’d be willing to give up everything and everyone I know?”

“We’re eighteen,” said Selkine, “You’re going to move away to college when you’ve finished your gap year. This is the time in your life when you leave behind everything you know.”

“What about what Tarst said? Do you really think I’d be happy as a serpent for the rest of my life?”

Selkine sighed. “I don’t know. I know that I wouldn’t. I think the ocean is terrifying, being that large seems awkward, and all those glowing scales would make my eyes ache. But you know. You know whether it makes you happy or not. So does it?”

“Yes,” said Karla, “But-”

“And does it seem like it’ll ever stop making you happy?” 

Karla remembered having thought more than once as she swam through the depths that she would stay that way forever if she could. But she hadn’t meant that literally, had she? “No.”

Selkine reached out and laid a hand on Karla’s shoulder. “If you become the serpent, I will miss you. I really will. But I’d rather that than you stay and I know you’re not happy. The people who love you will want you to be happy.”

“But wouldn’t it be selfish to choose that?”

“How is it selfish to choose what form you take? It would only be selfish to choose that for somebody else, which, incidentally, is what Tarst is doing.”

“I would miss you,” said Karla, “I don’t think I’d miss this body. But I’d miss you, I really would. And I’d miss my family.”

“It’s not like we’re going to die. We’ll still be around, and you’ll still be you. Although you will be a you without a mouth that can make words. Maybe we can figure out some other way to communicate.”

Karla perked up. Maybe she didn't have to leave everyone behind. “Yeah! I can still see you guys and my parents, it’ll just be harder.” The eagerness left her and she deflated. “But my parents wouldn’t be okay with it. They’d think I’m leaving them or that I’m not me anymore or… something.”

“Well then they can go fuck themselves.”

“Hey!”

Selkine rolled their eyes. “At least figure out how they’d react instead of just assuming.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? ‘Hey, mom, dad, how would you feel if I left you forever to become a sea serpent? Would you still like to keep in touch even though I’d be incapable of speech and most other forms of human communication?’”

“I mean, be a little more subtle than that,” said Selkine, “But yeah, figure out what they’d do. No sense in worrying over a choice until you have all the information.”

“I guess,” said Karla, already thinking about how in the world she was going to approach this with her parents.

Selkine hugged Karla close to their side. “I will still be your friend, no matter what body you end up in. I hope you know that.”

“Thank you. But I really should get going.” Karla stood and left. She stared down at the ground and chewed her lip the whole time as she walked home.

When Karla reached her house she took a deep breath, put on a familiar false smile, and entered through the front door.

“Hello honey!” came her mother’s voice, “Come help me set the table.”

“Coming!” Karla called.

Karla hurried to the kitchen, helping her mother to prepare the four places at the table. Soon the two of them were seated, alongside Karla’s father and younger sister, a year younger than her.

Karla ate her food, but she didn’t really taste it. Instead, she stared at the wall, drafting and destroying scripts for how to approach what she wanted to say. She only half-heard what the others said.

Near the end of the dinner, when the conversation was at a lull, Karla made her move. “Earlier today, I actually heard about, well I’m not sure if it’s true or not, but I heard that a boy over in Staunus, uh, turned into a dragon. Well, a man in Staunus, I suppose, I think I heard he was like, nineteen.”

“Huh,” said her father. “Do you know how it happened? Was it a curse or something?”

“I don’t think so,” answered Karla. “I don’t know how exactly he did it, but I did hear that he chose to do it voluntarily, even though he can’t turn back.”

Karla’s mother frowned. “Why’d he do that?”

“I think he just… wanted to. Like there wasn’t any real reason except that he wanted to be a dragon.”

Karla’s little sister, Dinah, snorted. “He sounds like a freak,” she said.

Karla’s throat closed up. Her grip tightened on her napkin. “Yeah,” she managed. After a few more moments she added, “I did hear his family’s keeping in touch with him though. He can’t speak, but he’s got the same mind.”

“Really?” Karla’s mother asked. “If I were his mother, I’d be trying to find a way to turn him back and then give him a lecture so he never tries something like that again. What a selfish thing to do.”

“I wouldn’t waste any time trying to get him back,” her father said. “He chose to stop being human, I’d say that means he stops being a part of the family. Then I’d probably get some fire insurance in case he gets upset.”

“He’s still a person,” Karla said in a small voice. “Inside, I mean.”

“Well sure,” said her father, “But I think a person who chooses to turn into a dragon is probably a bit of a pyromaniac.” He laughed at that.

And a person who chooses to turn into a sea serpent probably wants to sink ships, Karla thought. “Yeah, I guess,” she said, barely managing to keep her voice steady. She didn’t speak for the rest of dinner.

The next day, Karla stood at the cliff, staring into the dark horizon. The sun was setting behind her. The wind blew against her face, making her hair thrash in the air. Huh, she wasn’t going to have hair soon. She gripped her phone tightly in one hand. In the family group chat, she had sent “Really need help. At cliff. Tarst and Selkine can show you where. Low battery. Hurry.” In the group chat with Tarst and Selkine she had sent “Hey, can you hurry to my house please? My fam needs help with something.” She knew her friends would go over, find her distraught parents, be asked where at the cliff Karla was, realize there was only one cliff spot they could be talking about, and then come there with her family in tow.

Karla wished she’d sent the messages a couple minutes earlier, she hated waiting and they were taking so long. Or maybe it just felt that way. She was forcing herself not to look behind her, not to watch for approaching figures climbing over the rocks.

“Karla!” her mother’s voice called out “There you are! What’s wrong?”

She made herself turn. There was Selkine, Tarst, her parents, and Dinah. Her parents looked confused and worried, Tarst looked like he understood what was going on and it scared him, Dinah just looked annoyed, and Selkine was impossible to read.

“I’m really sorry, I just… wanted to show you something,” said Karla, “It’s really important. I…”

“What are you talking about?” her father asked. He stepped forward, but he and the others were about thirty feet away. Part of Karla’s mind noted that if they rushed and tried to grab her right now, they wouldn’t be able to make it before she jumped and transformed.

Karla had to look away in order to be able to speak. “I want you to know I’m going to be okay,” she forced out. “I will be safe and I’ll be happy. And I love you. And I will still love you. This isn’t because of you. This is because I… because I need to do this.”

She looked back at them and felt her heart shatter inside. The worry in her parents’ eyes, hell it was even in Dinah’s. The grief in Tarst’s. There was even a tear rolling down Selkine’s cheek, even as they gave a weak smile. And behind them, sitting on a rock, Ijaya watching with her emotionless red eyes.

Karla’s leg twitched, taking a tiny step towards them. Could she really live with herself if she did this? Could she really leave them, everyone she loved, behind? Yes. Yes she could. She turned and leapt.

For a few seconds, she was falling. Her skin was already turning to tough scales so it didn’t even hurt when she hit the water. Karla plunged beneath the waves into the dark, cold ocean. And she transformed, for the last time.

There was an explosion of foam as suddenly the water was full of a sea serpent, scales darker than the ocean, glowing patches making blue, green, and purple dance across the waves. The head turned and rose, coming up to meet the five figures who had rushed to the cliff’s edge.

Karla’s long whiskers quested through the air and her six eyes fixed on the humans. Her family were staring, uncomprehending. Tarst looked at her with utter despair. And Selkine had that same sad smile on their face. They gave a small, slow, wave.

Karla’s mother turned and sobbed into her father’s shoulder while her sister took a step away, scared. And that was all she needed to see. Maybe she’d come back and try to fix things with them someday. But not today. 

The serpent lifted her head and roared, a cry filled with joy and pain both. She knew she might be scaring them, but just couldn’t find it in herself to care. She turned and plunged into the water. And in another moment, she was gone.

Selkine stared at the water for a few more seconds. Then they turned and walked away, climbing over the rocks. Behind them, Karla’s family were demanding to know what had happened and Tarst was trying to gain control of his voice to explain to them. Selkine felt bad for them, they really did, but they needed to be somewhere else.

Selkine walked until they couldn’t hear or see the others. Then they sat down. They stared out at the ocean, at the place where their friend was now swimming, happy and free.

There was a flutter next to Selkine, so subtle that it somehow seemed as if it had been made on purpose, like a polite cough. They looked over to see a seagull with completely black feathers and red eyes standing next to them.

“Are you Ijaya?” Selkine asked.

“I am,” answered the bird, “And you are Selkine.”

“Right.” They weren’t even going to bother trying to figure out if the bird knew because Karla had described them to her or because she could just magically tell people’s names. “Did she make the right choice?”

“None of us can ever be certain any of the choices we made were the right ones,” answered the seagull. “But… I think so. I certainly hope so.”

Selkine studied the bird closely. “Karla said that she asked you if you were a human like her, and you said that you weren’t.”

“Correct.”

“But you used to be, didn’t you?”

Ijaya was silent for a moment. “Yes. I was. A long time ago.”

“Do you regret your choice?”

“At times. But I know if I had to make it again, I would choose the same.”

“That’s good to know, I suppose.” The pair were silent for a few moments more.

“Can you keep an eye on her?” Selkine asked, “Make sure she’s doing alright?”

“Of course,” said Ijaya, “I already planned to do so.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“As are you.”

More silence. “One of my closest friends just left,” said Selkine, “And I think things might be weird between me and my other friend for a while. Would you mind meeting up here and talking, in the future?”

“I think I would enjoy that,” said the gull.

Selkine nodded. They stood and took a step toward the cliff. “I hope I’ll see you again,” they said to the water, “I won’t lie, this hurts. But I’m also really happy for you. Live your life, Karla, and live it fully. That’s all any of us can really do. Goodbye.” 

Selkine stood there for another moment. And if they squinted, they thought they could just barely see a glimmering serpent, dancing among the waves.