The Monsters They Make

They tightened my bonds before tossing me overboard.

My body hit the water with a loud crack, and I gasped in one last breath before the ocean closed over me. Salt stung my eyes, but I refused to close them. I could still make out the shape of the ship above me, sailors leaning over the railing to watch as I sank deeper and deeper.

Salt stung the fresh lashes on my back, but the pain on my skin was nothing compared to the burning in my lungs.

I kicked and twisted, fighting with every ounce of strength to free myself from the ropes. It was no use. My back connected with something soft but solid.

Sand.

Digging my fingers into the sand, I desperately felt for a rock or a broken shell–anything that could cut through the ropes at my wrists and feet.

Still nothing.

Panic gave way to fury as I glanced upward. The ship was suspended no more than twenty feet above me. Close enough to see, but just out of reach. I was going to die–helpless–in plain sight of my murderers.

Were they still watching? Could they see me thrashing in the water? Did they laugh at my fear?

My scream was nothing but rage and air, and the last of my breath was gone.

Darkness swam at the edge of my vision as my body went slack. It would only be a few moments now.

Do you wish to live?

It took me a moment to realize the voice was not my own. It must be Death, come to claim me.

Do you wish to live?

How cruel to taunt your victims in their final moments.

Do you wish to live?

I could no longer fight the urge to take a breath and seawater flooded my lungs. My chest constricted, and tears mingled with the salty ocean.

Do you wish to live?

Yes!

Then close your eyes.

I obeyed and darkness overtook me.

Wind brushed my cheek and my eyes shot open. I stumbled for a moment, unsure of where I was. I was standing. I was dry.

"Look at me."

My head jerked up. Before me stood the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. A dress of white pearls hung from her body, making her dark skin shine. Her eyes, an unearthly blue, bore into mine. Something about them froze me in place.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Iara." My tongue answered of its own volition. The goddess of the sea. As if a woman with the fury of the waves in her eyes could be anyone else.

"Tell me, do you want to live?"

I stared at her.

"We don't have much time."

Something in her voice made me answer-"Yes, I want to live."

"The men on the boat." Her eyes flashed. "They threw you overboard."

Angry faces surfaced in my mind. Heavy fists falling on my door until the wood splintered and cracked. Huddling, terrified, under my work table, desperately hoping they wouldn’t find me.

They did.

I was bound and gagged before they hauled me aboard their ship. At some point, they grew tired of me screaming that I was a healer, not a witch, and one of the men tied a filthy rag over my mouth.

All of this because of a simple healing tonic they purchased from me in the marketplace. Where other healers had been unsuccessful in breaking their captain’s fever, my tonic cured him in a matter of hours. And yet instead of rejoicing at their leader’s recovery, they turned their suspicion on me. I tried to explain I was only a healer. I named the ingredients in the tonic, but it was no use. Gods knew that any woman who did something half as well as a man must be using magic.

The sailors chained me to their mast and set a lash on my back in an attempt to force a confession from me. It wasn’t until I could barely stand that they deemed me evil beyond saving and tossed me into the ocean.

I lifted my head and saw the same anger roiling in my veins reflected in the goddess’s eyes.

“They accused me of being a witch.”

Fury sent a storm over her piercing eyes. “Fear. Man’s age old reason for violence, even against those weaker than they.” She flung out a hand and lightning crashed through the heavens.

The same terror I felt crouched beneath my table clawed at my chest. It was a desperate, wild thing, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same fear those men felt toward me. At some point, their ignorant fear had turned to conceit. If I refused to give them the answers they wanted, I would pay for it.

Me, a simple woman, whose only crime was brewing medicines.

Something twisted in my chest, and the lingering terror twisted into something sharper. Something darker.

The goddess sensed the change. “Let me make you into something they really can fear.”

I didn’t hesitate.

“Do it.”

I returned to my body in a flurry of rage and salt.

At first, all I knew was pain. My chest burned at the lack of oxygen. Searing pain shot through my neck and I thrashed, clutching my throat. It wasn't until I felt the ridges on my neck that I realized my hands and legs were no longer bound. My chest rose heavily, replenishing my body with oxygen. Gills, I realized. The ridges on my neck were gills.

I dropped my hands from my neck. Where I had previously possessed fingers, webbed claws curled from my hand, nails elongating to a vicious point.

What had she made me?

My legs pressed suddenly together. There was no pain this time, only a faint tingling as I watched my skin fuse. A breath later, my tail swept across the sand.

Fire erupted behind my eyes and the world around me sharpened. I twisted my head upward. Each face peering down at me was crystal clear, despite the water that separated us. They must think I was thrashing against the ocean floor in one last attempt to free myself.

Foolish men, this wasn’t my death.

It was my birth.

Make them regret what they did to you.

With one powerful movement, I shot upward, sinking my claws deep into the wood on the bottom of the ship. Only my face surfaced from the waves and immediately a shout rose from the ship.

“She got free! She is a witch!”

The nearest soldier drew his arm back, hurling a harpoon at me with all his might. His eyes widened when I caught the spear before it struck my flesh. The man froze, and he stared at my hand—or what head once been my hand. Now blue and scaled, my talons curved around the weapon, quickly flipping it around. I bared my teeth and launched the spear with all my strength.

It found its target.

With a screech from somewhere deep in my belly, I heaved myself upward, sinking my claws into the side of the ship as I climbed. Shouts aboard the ship turned to screams as I pulled myself over the rail. My tail split into legs that hit the deck with a loud thud.

A shot rang out from the chaos, striking me in the chest. The bullet imbedded in the scales covering my collarbone and the shooter stood before me, a smug look on his face.

“I knew we were right to kill you.”

I only smiled and watched as his face shifted from confusion to realization to terror. My scales shifted slowly, working the bullet back to the surface and dropping it harmlessly to the deck.

“You were right to try.”

One swipe of my talons dispatched my would be murderer before I set my anger on the rest of the ship. I remembered each man’s face and how he had sneered and cheered for my death as they threw my body into the water. In a matter of minutes, I rid the world of every worthless life aboard the ship. All save one.

I threw open the doors to the captain’s quarters, not surprised to find him cowering behind his desk. There was a morbid sort of irony in the fact that he had me dragged from my home only for me to do the same to him. The man seemed to know there was no sense in fighting me and at least allowed himself the dignity of not begging for his life. He trembled, watching as I reached for the tankard of ale on his desk. Dipping a single talon inside, I envisioned the dark magic the men accused me of—the kind that created tonics with far more sinister intentions than curing a fever.

Rot spread from the tip of my talon into the ale, turning it black and sour. I held it toward the captain.

“Drink it.”

His eyes went blank, and he was helpless to do anything but lift the tankard to his lips and tip it down his throat. I watched with alarming satisfaction as he drained every last drop. A cold satisfaction spread through my chest. This was the man who unjustly ordered my death. The man who stole my life. I watched as his knees hit the floor and the breath fled his lungs. His eyes cleared and settled on me as he breathed his last.

“Monster.”

Life left him, and I was left with nothing but the scent of death and blood staining my skin. I may be a monster, but I wasn’t born one.

I was the monster they made.