True Colors

Sereia has never enjoyed spending time in the dressing rooms of the dormitories she shares with the other young mermaids of the royal compound. The mirrors there, all salvaged from shipwrecks and in varying condition, remind her that she is no different from the rest of the parrlings around her. Her tail and armfins are the same dull silver-blue stippling as theirs, her eyes the same pale flickering rainbow color. No one can tell by looking at her that her mother is the Great Sorceress Marilla, Chief Advisor to the Rulers of the Seven Seas. Her performance in parrling training has been no more telling: she’s an average swimmer, average singer, average salvager, average shark-fighter. At no point in her life has Sereia ever been able to stand out for anything except who her mother is.

Some of the other parrlings have told Sereia that she’s lucky to be able to choose to blend in, and to enjoy it while it lasts. “Once we come into our true colors, you might not be able to do that anymore,” they warn her. And for all she knows, they’re right; her mother has a fearsome reputation. But Sereia would love nothing more than to be able to spend more time with Marilla, and she knows that won’t be possible until she starts to get her true colors–and the powers that come with them. The Great Sorceress Marilla does not trouble herself with the affairs of undifferentiated parrlings, beyond the few times she comes to teach them in large groups; even her own daughter cannot often get an audience with her. She has far more important things to do, dividing her time between the Coral Court and her Abyssal Grotto.

And so Sereia hates the dressing rooms with their salvaged mirrors and seashell combs because they remind her that she is unworthy of her mother’s attention. With trepidation she approaches her assigned mirror, a round piece of silver with an ornate frame that must have been beautiful on the surface. Many other parrlings coveted this place, but Sereia got it because of who her mother is, even though she had–and has–no interest in it. But their governesses are strict in enforcing the rules for personal grooming and comportment, so Sereia feels she has no choice but to go to her mirror and style her long, colorless hair with seashells and pearls.

When she gets to the mirror, she blinks several times, then takes a piece of seaweed and wipes the tarnished surface. She can’t believe that what she’s seeing can possibly be real. She’s been hoping and wishing and wanting to start growing into her true colors for ages. Can this really be the day she’s been dreaming of?

But after all her blinking and scrubbing, the mirror still shows that her eyes have darkened, making the rainbow flickers less bright. Her heart starts racing and she turns and twists slowly in front of the mirror, trying to see if anything else is different about her.

“I think these scales are more blue than they were yesterday,” she murmurs to herself, touching the scales closest to her tail fluke.

“I think you’re right,” Yara, the parrling with the mirror next to her, remarks. “Lucky you. I’m still waiting…” She might have said more, but Sereia doesn’t hear her as excitement rushes through her body, roaring in her ears and vibrating her echolocation sensors.

“I have to go.” Sereia darts out of the dressing room without waiting for any sort of reply. Her mind is racing faster than she can swim, trying to devise a plan to get from the parrling dormitories to the Abyssal Grotto.

“I have to show Mother,” she tells herself on repeat, like a mantra. Her mind fills in the parts she can’t say aloud: Now I’ll be able to spend time with her. Now she’ll care about me. Now she’ll love me.

How to get out of the dormitories without being stopped by any Commodores or governesses presents a challenge, though. Parrlings generally aren’t left unsupervised, and they’re never allowed to leave the Coral Compounds unattended by adult merfolk. Sereia slips between coral pillars and tall, braided clumps of kelp, trying not to disturb the prevailing currents or touch anything. The slightest slipup could alert a Commodore patrol or attract a governess’s attention. And she can’t slip up. Mother would be furious if Sereia got in trouble and she had to be called away from her work to deal with the issue.

Will she even be glad to see me? Sereia can’t help wondering as she pushes a large, ornate shield–taken from some wrecked human warship ages ago, she’s been told–away from the coral wall just enough to slip through a hole behind it. Why this hole hasn’t been stopped up, Sereia can’t guess, given how tight a watch she and the other parrlings are under, but she’s not one to question a good thing. The hole leads into a narrow, dark tunnel–a perfect home for morays or other nasty undersea creatures. Sereia swims slowly, using only the quietest clicks to help navigate by echolocation. It would be better for stealth if she could see in the total darkness, but that’s a trait parrlings gain as they mature into adult merfolk. Her true colors have only begun to manifest, and so she’s all but blind as she makes her way through the tunnel.

After many twists and turns, the tunnel releases Sereia into the deep blue ocean outside of the parrling dormitories. She swims as fast as she can across an empty expanse of blue to the tangle of Nori Porphyra and rocky spires in which Marilla has established her Abyssal Grotto. Sereia has only visited her mother here three times before, and none of the visits have been happy occasions. Marilla is usually too annoyed at being disturbed to give her daughter the attention she craves. But Sereia cannot help thinking that this encounter will be different–how could it be otherwise, since her scales have started to brighten and her eyes are darker? Surely even the Great Sorceress Marilla will be able to spare time for something other than Royal Business, under these circumstances.

“Who goes there?!” Marilla demands as soon as Sereia swims between the first stalks of Nori Porphyra at the grotto entrance. Sereia can’t decide how to answer and so she puts on an extra burst of speed, darting into the open space of the main grotto as Marilla is turning to face the entrance. A image flashes through Sereia’s mind: a large conch shell, moving towards her on a furious current. A moment later, the same shell leaves her mother’s hand, propelled by a forceful rush of water from the sorceress’s palm. Sereia spirals out of its way, avoiding it by a hands’ breadth and nearly crashing into the rough pumice wall..

“What in the seven seas was that?!” she wonders aloud.

“Oh, Sereia. It’s just you.” The scarlet-haired sorceress glances back at her work table, which is covered with pearls and seashells and bits of metal and seaglass, before turning back to Sereia with a sharp, appraising aquamarine gaze. “And you’ve begun to manifest!”

“Yes, Mother. That’s why I came. I wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise. I know you have important work–”

“Nothing as important as this. I’ve been waiting decades for you to be ready to join me in my work.” Marilla swims over to her daughter, her scarlet scales gleaming in the light of the bioluminescent sea sponges around the grotto. “When did you notice?”

“Just this morning. I came here as soon as I realized. What does it mean, Mother, these colors? What will my powers be? Will I be able to help you?”

“Of course you’ll be able to help me, my pet. Turn for me.”

Sereia eagerly complies with her mother’s instructions, twisting her body so that the all the available light highlights the brighter scales by her fluke and her darker eyes.

“Ah, yes. Very interesting…” Marilla plucks one of her many necklaces from between her breasts and hums into its prominent opalescent queen conch shell. “Your tail will be a lovely sapphire blue, I think, and your hair will match. And I’m sure your eyes will be black.”

“But what does that mean, Mother? What power comes with–”

“Patience, my pet. The blue is already starting to show, the way you avoided that shell on your way in. You saw in your head what I was going to do, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but…how did you know?”

“I’ve trained a few mermaids with tails like that. And I’ve never seen you move so…decisively before.”

“So I can…see the future?” Sereia’s head spins as she tries to wrap her mind around the possibilities. The idea of knowing what will happen to her before it happens sounds equal parts exciting and dreadful.

“It manifests in different ways for everyone. But there’s usually some sort of clairvoyance, past or future sight, mind reading… The Coral Court has termed it True Sight.”

“I’m a seer, then?” She really hopes that she won’t be able to read anyone’s mind. Growing up with all the other parrlings, she’s never really been alone, and she values what little privacy she can get. Oftentimes, her own mind is the only private place she has, and she hates the idea that anyone else might be able to breach that fortress.

“Not just a seer, though that will be incredibly useful.” Marilla smiles a sharp, calculating smile, and Sereia’s heart leaps in her chest while a shiver runs down her spine. “Your eyes…they will give you influence over the void, the forces of chaos. A rare and special gift.”

Sereia’s blood turns to ice in her veins. “That sounds…scary, Mother. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“And you won’t have to, my pet. The power mostly doesn’t work that way, in my experience. Most merfolk with this gift are able to disguise themselves or shape-shift in some way. Do you want to try it?”

“I…I can.” Sereia is torn. She’s terrified of what this power could entail, but her mother has never paid her so much attention at once or spoken to her so kindly, and she doesn’t want this time together to end. “But how do I start?” 

“Hold your hand out in front of you.”

Sereia complies.

“Now,” Marilla continues, “look at your hand, and envision it as something else. An…octopus tentacle, maybe.” Marilla scoops an octopus out of an enclosure on the grotto floor and holds it up for Sereia to use as a reference.

Sereia focuses on her hand. Her brow furrows in concentration, and her head feels tight and hot. Just when she thinks she can’t take it anymore, her hand wavers and then a curling black octopus tentacle is sprouting from her arm where her hand should be.

“Well done!” Marilla exclaims. Sereia’s focus falters and her hand returns to its normal form with dark nails and webbing between her humanoid fingers.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stop–”

“Hush, my pet. You’ve done quite well today,” Marilla soothes her daughter, pulling her close and stroking her hair for a few moments. Happiness and relief flood through Sereia and she leans into her mother’s embrace. All too soon, Marilla pulls away and fixes her daughter with her arresting aquamarine eyes. “To be able to do so much already, with your powers just beginning to take root, is an auspicious sign. I have high hopes for you, Sereia. Go back to the dormitory and rest. I’ll see to it that you’re excused from whatever parrling exercises are scheduled for today. Tomorrow we will begin your training in earnest.”