Dedicated to my mom and pops for all their love and support
And to the memory of my bewitching feline writing companion, Pflanze, who I miss dearly
—Serena Valentino
A dark gray mist followed Ursula like creeping tentacles as she made her way through the seemingly abandoned town of Ipswich. Ursula’s laugh echoed through the boarded-up cottages, their pitiful denizens huddled within, terrified of the vengeful sea goddess who had descended upon them like a waking nightmare.
She had altered herself into her human form for the excursion, and used her magic to control the mists, creating long menacing tentacles for herself that curled around and trailed behind her, blighting everything they touched. She left a path of destruction in her wake, black like oil, and putrefying.
She moved toward the main square and stood beneath the clock tower. Her tentacles assaulted it, turning the pillar into a wide black obelisk that might have been used for more sinister purposes than keeping time.
Hate.
Her magic was infused with it. And in that hate was a deep, penetrating sorrow. Those humans had taken from her the only person who had loved her, and she was going to make them suffer. She cast her ghostly appendages toward the sea, calling forth her dark minions.
Sirens.
These were a hideous mix of human and sea creature, like something conjured by the most deranged, visionary mind. Pale, haunting beings with dark smoldering pits for eyes emerged from the sea. Wide grinning mouths gnashed endless rows of sharp yellow teeth. Their skin was like thin, translucent milk, and through it one could see their deep blue veins and grotesque endoskeletons.
Though their song caused humans to tremble and their ears to bleed, it was beautiful to Ursula. She found it winsome, intoxicating, and overwhelmingly beautiful. Its haunting melody compelled those vile humans to emerge from their boarded dwellings, drawn to the siren song and spellbound to their call.
How weak they are, she thought. She grinned at the befogged looks on their wretched faces and laughed at their impending doom. They walked on, blind to their own destruction, powerless to stop it and powerless to save their own lives as blood dripped from their ears and poured from their mouths; they were choking on it, sputtering, unable to scream at the horrors around them. Ursula thought it was the most beautiful and thrilling thing she had ever beheld.
If the sea witch had let the sirens’ chorus continue, it would have brought death to the humans. But letting them die was too easy, wasn’t it? She wanted to see their terror and watch them suffer. She wanted them to become the thing they feared and hated most.
She wanted them to show their loathsomeness.
As her hate penetrated Ipswich, she was surrounded by wrecked lands as far as she could see. She stood within the landscape like a shining thing of beauty among the ruin, her face pale from rage, her eyes mournful but brimming with revenge. Her heart full of hate.
Divine hatred.
That was what it was.
Divine.
She felt truly alive for the first time. She felt no pity for them as she watched them bleed; there was no hesitation on Ursula’s part, and she had no time for pleading or crying. They had been silenced by the song of the sirens. They stood before her, sickly and foul, watching in silent horror as Ursula led them to their destruction.
“The power of the old gods, I call you to me,
the Deep Ones, to claim these humans for the sea!”
With this spell the humans fell to the ground, convulsing, struggling for air. They looked around, gasping, and saw their fellow villagers transform into horrific sea creatures. Now they were forever bound to Ursula, to do her bidding. Forever inhuman. Forever monstrous and vile.
Ursula’s laugh swelled from her gut and sounded throughout the lands, reaching the ears of every witch in the many kingdoms. It sent a shiver through even the most powerful among them—dark and light—because they felt the weight of this. They knew the power of hate-infused magic and the destruction it could bring. The dark gray mists curled around Ursula as she watched the terrified humans struggle against their transformations, their silent screams making the scene more beautiful to her.
“Don’t fight it, my darlings!” She laughed. “Or perhaps you should! It hurts more to struggle!”
This was far more rewarding than she had imagined. It was splendid, this hate, this utter destruction.
It was glorious.
Ursula’s laugh thundered as she stepped into the encroaching waves at the shore, encouraging all her new creatures to journey into places unknown to them, dark places they had been too frightened even to contemplate. Places they had only visited in their nightmares or anxious, fevered daydreams.
The creatures were hers now—servants—and she would use them at her will and to their torment. As the waves touched her human feet, she slowly transformed. It seemed the creature within her had no choice other than to burst forth from the human flesh, desperate to be seen and aching to be in the waves.
She was growing to leviathan proportions now, towering over her terrified minions, bawling with laughter at their plight.
Then, unexpectedly, a figure emerged from the water, like the Flying Dutchman breaking the surface.
“Stop this lunacy at once!” The voice was louder than the crashing waves.
Whereas Ursula seemed nothing but darkness, he appeared like shining light. He was beautiful—too beautiful—and seemingly too good. Those were traits she found all too prevalent in males of higher rank in those lands. She had no idea who that minor god might be, but she already knew she didn’t like him.
“Who are you to command me?” she asked, snapping her head to the right to get a better look at this mockery of the gods.
“Did you not call upon the old gods? I have answered.”
“I called for help, not interference!”
“Look around you! Look what you’ve done to this land! Everything is scorched with your hatred. It is blighted as the lands of the old queen. Don’t take her path, little sister. Come home with me, where you belong.”
Ursula was silenced, perplexed.
“Hear me, Sister. See that necklace you are wearing? It was a gift from our father. We thought you were lost to us forever. I hoped one day you would come to know your power and call upon me, but I didn’t expect to find this.” His face was screwed up with a look of disgust as he surveyed the destruction Ursula had wrought.
“You know nothing of my life! I was left here alone with these humans who feared and hated me. You have no idea what I’ve suffered!”
“Ursula, do you truly not remember me? I am your brother. Triton.”
Ursula looked at Triton, furious and confused. Unable to place him.
“I’m sorry, Ursula. It’s time I brought you home.”
It had been many years since Ursula had seen her dear friends the sister witches. Not since right after her exile from Triton’s court had she paid them a visit. There was so much to catch up on, and as she made her way, she saw light dancing across the rippling water and knew she was at last reaching the surface. She could almost make out the shadowy images of the three sisters standing on the shore, waiting for her arrival.
It has been a rather long time, she thought, and decided she might as well make a grand entrance, with a great spectacle. She felt herself growing, her tentacles elongating—a sensation that always made her feel like the dominant force of the seas that she was.