Playing Koi (3) (Patreon)

Her tail jerked to either side, using all the muscle in her strange new body. Whatever the barrier really did, her safest path was to move through it as quickly as possible, so it could have the smallest impact on her.

She extended both arms in front of her, ready to redirect herself if it was too strong. It wouldn't do Kisten any good if she broke her neck.

She caught one last look at Brady, watching her with a mixture of horror and awe. In the terrified environment of this tank, it didn't seem like many other fish ever took risks quite like this.

It burned going through, a blinding vortex of magic that filled her vision with splashes of color and flashing light. It hurt everywhere, but the pain came so quickly that she barely had time to experience it. It crushed against her body, pressing down on her from all sides.

Then she was through, shooting forward into the open again. Jemma flared her fins and arms, catching herself stationary in the water as best she could. But she still didn't know how to swim that well, and so went flipping through the water a few times in the process, before finally smacking up against something solid.

Magic coursed through her veins, as intense as the moment of her first transformation. The barrier hadn't killed her, yet it had obviously done something. 

She opened one eye, rubbing a sore spot on her forehead. She left a little trail of shimmering sparks in the water behind her, leftover magic discharging off her skin. She was still in the junction tank, a straight expanse leading between parts of the mall. Only the space behind her was now a wall of solid white, radiating like the sun. It obscured any view into the tank behind her, and where Brady might still be watching.

A flat expanse of stone stretched out along the aquarium floor, covered in densely scrawled marks. Chalk covered the walls around it too, so full of writing that they blocked the outside view.

Runes. Those things Kisten always wanted me to learn. This was easily the most complex spell she'd ever seen written, showing a mastery that could only come from years of study and practice. Jemma might be able to cast spells like this in her sixties, but not anytime soon. Or ever, if she didn’t listen to her girlfriend’s pleas.

Kisten couldn’t be responsible for this, could she? There was something familiar about that handwriting…

From the other side, the junction tunnel was far bigger than it looked. Instead of barely wide enough for her, Jemma could stretch out, and even turn around in the narrow space if she had to. With so much light behind her, it no longer looked so oppressive either. Light radiated from both directions, inviting her forward as much as it obscured the path behind. 

Jemma slowed, ears alert for whatever activity might be ahead. Just because a spell sealed off the goldfish tank didn't mean there wasn't some terrible danger waiting for her inside. Getting Kisten out meant surviving first.

But she heard nothing—just the gentle hum of the filter, and air bubbling through the tank from a distant aerator. There was only the light beaming in from up ahead to suggest the area might not be completely sealed. 

She used a few peaceful moments to search her own outline for any sign of a new curse, or maybe burns the barrier had inflicted. There were none—no trace the barrier had done anything other than wash over her. Strange—she had definitely felt the magic on her. Maybe the curse wasn't visibly obvious at first.

I'll have to spend the time to learn how this stuff works. If we get out, I won't complain about practicing.

A few more nervous seconds of swimming, and she emerged into the light of another tank. Only this one was much larger than any she'd been in before. It stretched out so far in all directions that she couldn't see the glass walls. The tank was entirely overgrown with life, strands of living freshwater plants rising from every stray part of soil.

They didn't just grow wild. Instead, the plants grew in strange shapes, opening in huge bulbs with shadowy space inside. Others were woven together into submerged canopies, kept taut at the edges with sinewy cable. 

Even white light suffused the space from above, the only reminder that she wasn't out in a real pond. That, and the fish. 

She couldn't miss them—dozens, maybe hundreds of fish. They floated together in groups—some working along the floor with strips of plants or aquarium strata. Others swam together through the leaves, gathering little snails to carry down to parts unknown.

This wasn't the diverse shotgun of freshwater species in the rest of the mall. Every fish Jemma saw had the same colors—gold, black, or faded white. Most were the former, with bodies that glittered metallic orange in the light. 

Weren't you supposed to be smaller? Jemma floated a little higher, lifting away from the junction tunnel. That only made the sight more confusing—a whole living city grew here, with many buildings woven from the leaves. Height didn't let her hear much more—the aquarium remained dead silent, other than the mechanical filter sounds.

"Hello? I'm looking for someone. Has anyone seen..."

Her voice drew instant attention from the bright fish. First came a group of children, emerging from the upper tank with a lone adult she took to be their teacher. They carried little writing pads hammered out of slime and aquarium gravel.

Then another few emerged from between the undersea ferns, with their basket of captured snails under one arm.

"Woah. There's so many of you in here."

Two floated up from below. Each one carried a little metal rod with a sharpened point. Both had the muscular look of people who spent many hours each day training—or maybe fish who spent their days training. Close enough.

"Outsider. You are... almost gold. But how do you make that... sound?" 

The muscular fish didn't say anything, not out loud. But she didn't have to—Jemma knew this language well. That explained why none of these fish wore anything—they spoke entirely with body language, the same way Kisten did. 

"If she can talk, she can't hear us," said the other. He spoke the same way, though Jemma had never “heard” the language spoken by a male before. She blushed, and resisted the urge to avoid looking at him. This was so much less awkward with her girlfriend.

Her instincts still worked. "Nothing we can do but send her back. Barrier didn’t work. Ancestor should know about this.”

When they spoke, the two guards turned to face each other, floating there in total silence. Then they faced her again, gesturing with the spears. 

"Alright, fish. Whoever you are—back out the way you came. Nice and easy."

"Wait!" She put up both hands, glancing nervously between them. "I can hear you. But that doesn't matter—I'm not here to fight. I just want to find my girlfriend. She looks... a lot like you all, actually. Bright red hair, about my age—lots of spots. Her name is Kisten..."

The fish talk the same way as her. For the first time in her new life, Kisten would be around others with the same curse.

More goldfish joined them in the water, crowding in from all sides of the submerged city. Many looked shocked, or just overwhelmed. Depending on the strange flow of time down here, this might be the only time they had ever heard someone speak.

"The immortal priestess," said someone else. The schoolteacher, far braver than most fish. She floated nearby and brought her group of students with her. "You know her?"

Immortal priestess—not exactly the first title she would've picked for Kisten. But Brady had said that trapped humans didn't get older...

"Yeah!" She spun once through the water, long fins trailing behind her. Something about being a fish demanded she stay moving—floating in one place made her feel anxious. Or maybe it was all the eyes watching her. The fish seemed to recoil from her. At first, she thought it might be her size—but that wasn't it.

Despite what Brady said about the tiny, defenseless goldfish, these must all be huge. The older ones were even bigger than she was, though few were quite so long. They had shorter, stubby tails, flaring to huge fins at the end.

Maybe the sound? She lowered her voice to a whisper, and that seemed to help. "I've known her since before she came here. Can you take me to her, please? I promise she'll recognize me."

Silence—but that much was obvious. Jemma's mind was momentarily overwhelmed by the burst of sudden, silent conversation from all over the tank. Goldfish confided with one another, whispering their thoughts about her or openly denying they believed her story.

Ultimately it was the guards who got to decide. "Outsider—you better be telling the truth. The priestess is a harsh judge of any who wish to bring back the old way. If you are lying, it would be better for you to leave."

"She doesn't seem that scary," said one of the kids, poking at her shoulder. Another prodded her tail, though his words were lost in the distance. 

"Looks like a goldfish to me. Whiter than most."

Jemma ignored them, swimming closer to the guard. Not fast enough that she would provoke a defensive reaction, thankfully. The guard slung her spear over her back and wasn't pointing at her anymore. "Swim with us to the temple, then. You would need her leave to stay here anyway."

She nodded along with the fish. For the first time in her life, Jemma found herself wishing she could copy Kisten's language—if she could just speak it now, then she could act like she was just another goldfish. A little weird-shaped maybe, but close enough that she could blend into a crowd.

A handful of other fish swam along behind her, following through the maze of their submerged city. But they didn't just talk like Kisten—they had her curse too. Their fins made no sound when they swam, even the little children zipped ahead of her, dodging through the reeds, and making no effort to keep quiet while they played. None made even the slightest noise.

Jemma did. Her fins left little bubbles behind them, stirring the rocks along the bottom, or just rustling the liquid of the tank. Even that sound was enough to attract stares from her audience, muttering silently to each other about how incredible it was. 

At first, she looked back to see how many were following—but she caught words like “freak” and “barbarian,” and decided it would be best to keep her eyes forward.

"Your tank is enormous..." she whispered as they swam. It still boomed over the crowd, silencing them as easily as everything else she said. "I guess the spell outside keeps other fish from taking it?"

The male guard matched her pace, a short distance from her. The way these fish all watched each other—how could she tell if he was staring at her breasts, or just trying to hear her? "It used to be different. A long time before anyone outside the temple was born. Big fish could come in whenever they wanted. We weren't strong enough to fight them. But our ancestors built the shield, and now..." He poked her belly, just above her navel. "You must have noticed how small you are. Or has it been so long that no one remembers what goldfish look like?"

"I..." She wrapped both arms around her middle. She would never stop blushing in here, as long as she spent her time around people with such disregard for modesty. Or... not even that. These creatures would not even comprehend the concept, given the way they spoke. More fish stared at her makeshift bra than any other part of her. "I guess being smaller would explain it better. The aquariums are all the same size, right? Only none of them look like yours. This place is a city."

A structure emerged in the distance, rising from the gravel floor. She could see why they called it a temple—it was, a plastic replica of the temple of Jupiter. At least, what that temple might've looked like when the Greeks still worshiped there.

It wasn't just stripped down to the beams—the fish had woven more plants into a roof and walls, making it a proper structure. On the back, more structures stretched away from it—more decorations, turned on their sides or upside-down and connected to form a proper temple complex. Plants grew atop all but the central building, more of what she was increasingly certain were this aquarium's fields.

They had buildings, teachers, cops, and crops. They had temples and religion. They even had written language. Not clothing, but that absence was obvious.

"Of course it is," said the female guard. "The ancestors tell us about what life was like before. They were... civilized. Not barbarians like the other fish. Now that we're not under attack, we can rebuild."

"Everyone else, swim back to what you were doing," said the male. "You will see judgment soon enough. Scarlett and I will keep this barbarian from causing trouble until a decision is made."

Would be nice if you would stop calling me that though. The goldfish spoke with obvious hostility when they said it, heavy with the weight of its dark implications.

"Go through," said the girl, pushing her shoulder towards the opening. It wasn't large, though of course a fish didn't have to enter walking. A tiny hole was more than enough to swim through.

It didn't look like a temple, despite its false stone exterior. The walls were covered with huge writing tablets—blackboards, though the colors were different. Writing covered many of these, along with design sketches of various kinds. Complex mechanical devices, buildings, or dense tables of other information—city statistics?

A handful of goldfish worked in the space, either floating around the tables, or with a series of machines arranged between them, made from bits of wood and green plants.

All stopped as they entered, looking up at her as so many others had. These fish were all about the same age, without a single child or any elderly among them. But where none of the other villagers wore clothing, these did. Some wore cloth around their bellies, with openings to let them speak. Each of them had a little piece of gold hanging from their tail, wrapped just above their largest fin.

Her guards gripped her by both arms, holding her vertically in the water. One spoke, though at his strange angle his voice was distorted and stretched. "Found her by the barrier. Not our usual barbarian intruder, you can see. She looks like us and understands our language. She claims to be an ancestor."

"Looking for someone!" she added. Not loud, but it still made the assembled goldfish visibly gasp. She heard it in her mind, though not with her ears. "Her name is Kisten—they said she was in here."

"Be quiet!" The female guard squeezed her arm hard, twisting her to one side. That would prevent the “ancestors” from seeing her. That would silence any goldfish, but it did nothing to compel her. "You haven't been given permission to speak, barbarian. These are the ancestors, treat them with respect."

The ancestors weren't watching her—instead, their attention was fixed on a doorway near the wall, leading to some dark space beyond. Jemma watched too, not resisting.

A kid emerged a second later, wearing the same gold as all the others. But he carried a satchel over his shoulder, packed with little writing pads. "Take any weapons she's carrying," he said, flicking short fins to the door. "Then send her in."

"Right." Her guard reached roughly over, tearing the plants around Jemma's chest. She squealed in surprise and embarrassment, wrapping her arm around her breasts. She tried to snatch the torn plants with the other, but in vain.

"That's not okay! You can't just take someone's..."

The guards stared back, confused more than anything. "No weapons.”

"If we can't wear anything, neither can she," said an older fish, from beside the wall of records. "You'll get used to it, stranger. We all did."

Jemma lowered her arm again, face practically glowing now. It didn't help that the water made her already pale skin seem even lighter. "Fine, whatever. Can I go now?"

The guards shared a look. "Messenger?"

"Yeah." The kid swam closer to her, offering his arm. "Come with me, I'll show you."

She took the offered hand. "How old are you, kid?"

He swam along beside her, slow enough for her to watch. Unlike the fish in the city beyond, he didn't seem afraid to hear her speak. More... jealous. "Way older than you. I run messages cuz I wanna! Not because I have to."

"Way older than..." She suppressed giggles, ineffectively. "Kid, come on."

"It's true!" He let go in the tunnel, puffing out his chest. "Go to the library. My name is in the founder's tablet with all the others. I've helped Thetria for generations. Fastest goldfish in the world! Who... never... grows up." He turned his back on Jemma, speeding down the darkened space. She swam frantically to catch up, barely keeping pace with him. But if he was saying anything, his speed meant she couldn't hear a word of it.

Might be how they communicate it around here. Kisten can only hide what she's thinking by not letting me see her.

They came to one door among many, tucked away near the back. The messenger stopped just beside it, pulling back the curtain. "Guess you're allowed in there. But when you go, you better be nice. Before she got here, things were..." He shuddered, feeling at the scars running down his arms. "Bad." 

She nodded. For once, Jemma kept entirely silent as she swam inside. She'd come so far to reach this moment. 

Jemma floated into another underwater room. Like her first sight of Thetria, this one was bizarre enough to stun her completely. It wasn't the strangeness this time, but the striking familiarity.

Someone had recreated a familiar bedroom with remarkable detail—Kisten's bedroom. Her huge bed was suspended from the ceiling by cables, her bookshelf was in the right place, along with crude recreations of the framed book covers she kept on her walls. Her computer was a rock, along with her screens—but in layout, it might as well be perfect. She had even used a variety of colored paints, copying her carpets and walls.

Kisten liked everything to be soft, since she wasn't usually wearing much when she touched it. That was true here too, though the only soft material was a thin undersea moss, clinging to every surface like a cushion.

"Kisten, are you in here? They said..."

Then she emerged, slipping out of her walk-in-closet.

From the waist up, she looked exactly how Jemma remembered. Freckles all over her body, hair tied up in the bun she always used when she was thinking hard about something. There were no new scars or any other signs of harm. 

She was definitely the prettiest goldfish Jemma had ever seen. Shorter than she was, like every other goldfish in this space. But otherwise, their proportions were almost identical. Not like Brady, then. Her girlfriend didn't bother with any of the fake clothing the other fish used, though she did have a gold ring around her tail.

"Jemma." She froze, clinging to the desk. "Not you. You shouldn't be here!" Fear twisted across her face, along with ample frustration. "You were safe!"