For the Last Time

Milana wandered the last few metres down to the dock. The moons had risen and Elami, the nearest planet, hung purple and full in the sky. She watched the last swirls of sunlight dance on the thick, pink clouds. She saw the way the stars shone through, tiny sparks like white fire. She sighed and looked over the water. She turned to place her hand on the twilight rock. The gnarled root grew over it, draped itself over it. Generations of Mernorns had touched this very stone before plunging into the sea. Some drowned before they could metamorphisise, they died amongst their friends and family. But most made it down into the dark sea without drowning. There they underwent the violent changes that involved growing a tail. She took a breath, went to jump. But something stopped her. She turned one last time and saw Amotha. He was not a Mernorn, he couldn't breathe water, or even swim. He was the only reason that she did not want to go. Without thinking, without realizing what she was doing, Milana walked over to him on her feet that soon would not be feet, but instead a long, graceful tail. She had promised him that she would visit, but they both knew that once Mernorns entered the watery realm, they lost all interest in Norn life. He turned from her, walked back, past the tall tree, under a shimmering spider web that reflected moonlight in rainbow streams. He brushed aside a poisonberry bush and started to cross the bridge. She was torn. She knew that she only had until the 15th hour, another 2 hours at most, but she had to see Amotha one last time. She felt as though he was angry with her, for her need to leave so soon. But he would never be so unreasonable, at least Milana didn't think he would. She stumbled after him, tripping over the roots of the tall tree, tore the web with her flailing fingers, fell into the bush. From there she could no longer get up, her legs were too weak, her breath coming in gasps. It had begun. There was no sign of her tail yet, but her lungs were already withering, dying. She was growing gills, which dragged at the cruel air, unable to gather any oxygen. But she could still breathe, just. "Amotha," she whispered, "Amotha." He kept walking. She slowly inched forward, mindful of her legs, which now felt as though they were burning, or perhaps melting, in a blazing inferno. She cried out again. He kept on waking. She felt tears now, not from grief, but from the pain in her chest. All her instincts were screaming at her to turn around, to head for water before it was too late. Her fingers clawed at the planks of the bridge, dragging her forward, inch by painful inch. He was off the bridge now, standing on the sand of the desert, watching her. She stared up at him, her eyes wide with fear. She was helpless, and she had just realized it. But no, he just turned and strode across the desert. She closed her eyes, wept heavily, mustered all her strength and crawled forward. The sand stung her, pierced her skin like a million spider bites. The sand was still hot from the day's sunlight, but even if it hadn't been, it still would have burned her. Wearily she wondered were all the Scorpio Norns where. Why aren't they helping me? That led her to a question that was almost too painful for her to contemplate. Why isn't he helping me? She was beside a golden statue. It was on a pillar. She remembered it. What was it? A dog? Cat? No, it was a bird. A cruel-eyed, cold bird that was staring down on her. She breathed in raggedly. She was no longer crying. She could no longer cry. Her tear ducts were closed off. Mernorns don't cry. Slowly she made her way across the open expanse of desert. The moonlight fell on her here, when she looked back, she was amazed to see that her tail was forming. She swept it back and forth, and it propelled her forward, just a little but faster than she had been going. She passed the dead tree, the one covered in mushrooms and dragged herself onto the dock. Amotha was standing at the end of it, staring out over the water. She sucked at the air with her gills and said, one last time, "Amothaaaa." He turned to her, his eyes were cold, cruel. She flipped her tail uselessly, it did not help, she had no energy left to move. He took one step back, to the edge. He watched her, and she could feel the fear bubble up within her. "Do'd," she said, her tongue was so dry that the word came out all bumpy, "Plez, do'd Amota." But he did. She could have sworn that the night breeze, salty to her senses, carried the whispered words, "Now you'll see how it feels." Then he jumped. The water rippled, drops of gold flew into the air. She cried out, maybe a word, perhaps a name, or else just a garbled scream. With her last ounce of energy she scrabbled to the edge of the dock, reached out to the dark, cold water. Her fingertips touched the glassy surface. If only . . . Then Milana fainted, for the last time.