Bittersweet Betrayel

At the bottom of a thundering waterfall, whose water ran with blood, Siobhan lay twisted and broken, in a deep dark stony crevasse, water filling her lungs. She was still wearing her full suit of armor, which dug into her joints, and dismissed any hope of being able and lightweight enough to make it to the sweet air above. Her sword, Mercer, was also still clutched tightly in her numbing hand. It was her only friend now, the only companion she had left, by her side, for her last moments. Numbness was slowly advancing upon her, taking over and slowing her screaming mind. Siobhan was dying and there was nothing she could do about it. A calm settled over her. And then almost every memory that had ever been hers, flashed through her mind in a torrent, right up to the one that had sealed her fate. A hard shove, to her chest, and she had fallen, her last glimpse through the slit of her vizier, being the dark eyes of her cousin, whom she had trusted. Siobhan grimaced, remembering how Edite had not trusted the girl. Why had she been so foolish? She should have known. Anger surged through, anger, and hatred that grew and multiplied with every passing second, and she felt something changing. The water around her felt thicker and warmer. Then total darkness enveloped her as a burst of pain shot through her body. It had felt like her fingers being twisted, her teeth yanked out, and her skin ripped off. But she could not scream, try as she might. When Siobhan awoke, she felt nothing in particular. She was dead, why should she? Then she became aware of the familiar silence and feel of the water of her deathbed. Then her armor, the sword in her hand, and her hair floating about her, and tickling her face. Her face. Confusion. She was steadily breathing in and out her stomach rising and falling. Siobhan let go of Mercer and lifted her armored arm stiffly so that her hand was faintly silhouetted against the dim blue light filtering through the water. It was not the same hand she had once had. This hand was twisted and gnarled shark claws in place of her callused fingers, winking scales in place of her skin.

She felt something inside her, fighting to get out. A creature, born of hatred, hardened by betrayal and driven by revenge. For an uncertain moment, she held it back, knowing that if she let it inside her there was no going back. Then she gave in.

Siobhan ripped the heavy armor and clothes from her scales, leaving them to die with her old self. She took a deep breath of water and swam smoothly to the surface a little further downstream from the falls, with Mercer, her sword. Siobhan had barely known how to swim, but this creature did. She breached the surface next to a boulder standing it's ground against the strong current splitting it in two. She took a cautious breath of air and found herself suffocating on it. She coughed and ducked underwater, holding her breath as she surfaced once more. She placed Mercer carefully on the flat of the bolder and looked at her reflection in the water. It was strange to see a strange face, a stranger's face in place of her own. Her hair was still golden. Her scales were shimmering blue and green. Her nose was flatter, her nostrils small gill-like slits. Her lips had shrunk slightly thinner and her teeth were sharp cruel points.