Playing Koi (16) (Patreon)

They did let her stay, as it turned out. Jemma spent the next decade of bittersweet joy together with the fish she loved most in the whole aquarium. She taught Melody everything she knew during her days in the workshop, even if Jemma's own brilliance had long since been eclipsed by Algaegard's natural-born inventors and tinkerers.

She was there to help explain to Melody she did not think it was that strange if she wanted to kiss Misty instead of finding a boy. She was there to lend her support to her son Sean when he lost half of his first eggs to another plague, a few years later. She was there for Liz when she opened a restaurant serving “authentic human cuisine,” even if her endorsement of the food's accuracy was a blatant lie.

It had been a lifetime since Jemma tasted any of the familiar snack-foods she watched teenagers devour just outside her tank. She barely remembered how they tasted.

She spent each year beside Liam, her loyalty never faltering even as the weight of time weighed more heavily on him. His powerful muscles grew weaker—but his mind never dulled, and neither did his passion.

Some things were harder to forget, and some wounds cut just as deep as she had known they would.

A great war came to the tank at last. Liam wasn't the only fish determined to see justice for those who were lost, and a permanent safety to the aquarium after numberless generations of terror.

Jemma did not fight in that war, even if some part of her still wanted to return some of the blood that was taken from her. Maybe it was fear that kept her home in Algaegard, either for her or the children that would lose their mother if she left. Whatever the reason, she stayed, turning her attention towards a few badly-needed medical innovations as the injured began trickling back into the city.

Most fish who fell in that war did not survive their injuries long. Jemma waited eagerly for Liam to get time on his submarine's transmitter during peaceful days, telling her about the strange depths they had explored and the new parts of the mall he had seen. Sometimes Melody was there to listen—other times she was too afraid of what she might overhear.

He came home once, after a long campaign in a distant tank filled with strange fish who spoke an incomprehensible tongue and attacked any fish who swam. His eyes were sunken, haunted by what he had seen.

"Don't go," Jemma begged, when the week of his brief leave was over. "You don't have to get back on that submarine. They'll find someone else."

But Liam didn't listen. He held her close, and squeezed her hand like he had when they were the same size, and his scales weren't starting to go dull and waxy. "I want you to promise me something, Jemma. Can you do that?"

She nodded. "Anything you ask. If you want me to join you, sail out into—"

"No." He covered her mouth gently with one finger. "When this is over... all of it's over, I mean. Don't linger. Don't turn into a ghost in the aquarium, wandering halfway between one life and another. Decide what you want, and do it. If that means following me to the... whatever's next, I'll wait for you. But if that isn't what it means—you should take that too."

He turned her in his arms, facing the opening in the workshop, and the daylight streaming in through the side of the aquarium. "If you want to go finish what you started, you should. Go rescue that goldfish, and get back to the place you came from. Just... try not to forget us, when you go. Nori and Sunny and Ryan and Sean and Melody and me. Maybe you can find a way to bring those frames out with you. Every time you see a neon tetra swim by, you can think about your family. We'll be waiting for you in the dark ocean, past the edge of everything. Maybe one day, when your immortal life is over, you'll come say hello."

Jemma didn't know what to do, so she cried. It wasn't fair—her mate got old and wise and confident, and she was still the same fish as she was when they met. She couldn't sound old and wise.

When sunrise came, Liam swam off with many others to fight. She never saw him again.

At least his body made it back. She could prepare him for his eternal swim, just as he requested. She could even use Liam’s preferred scale.

All the fish she knew were there for the burial. Arlo conducted the ceremony, somehow sounding like the dignified patriarch even with Nicole to translate for him. Brady was there, along with the smattering of young fish she'd had with an assortment of suitors over the years. Jemma's own half of the family could fill a whole block of the church by themselves, thanks mainly to her daughters Lily and Amelia. Sean had only a handful of children, and Melody only the one she adopted with Misty.

Jemma didn't cry as much as she thought she would. It was much worse. And in the end, when the reception finally emptied and the last helping of funeral food was washed off the plate, she cried alone in the back of a dark church kitchen.

"I could've told you then your prediction was wrong," someone said, peeking through the open door. Not Melody, or even one of her grandchildren. This voice sounded like Jemma felt—young, but burdened by years. "Your mate would not die old and feeble in the safety of your home. His passion burned too brightly for that."

A fish swam into the kitchen with her, a fish with a long, graceful tail, and wispy fins that trailed behind her through the water. Her hair was stark white, so pale it glowed in the low light.

"Dr. Nerissa. No jacket this time." Jemma turned away from the scrubber, and the “sink” of dirty dishes. "But you're not a doctor."

She dressed like a goldfish, and carried no tools, no magical weapons. If she was a simple witch, she would have a hard time using any magic against Jemma.

"I'm not," she agreed, folding both arms across her chest. "Do you regret your decision, Jemma? Do you wish you had said your farewells a decade ago, in that hospital?"

She shook her head vigorously. Her eyes burned with tears and her heart raced—but she continued anyway. "No. I wish... the aquarium was a kinder place. I wish it didn't take so many of the fish I cared about."

The stranger stopped just beside her, pale face unreadable. "Not as many as I have."

She straightened, staring defiantly back into that face—but those white eyes, she couldn't even meet them for long without shivering. "No," she whispered, looking away. "Witch? Goddess? Whatever you are—it still hurts."

"Too much for most." The fish swam around her in a gentle circle, trailing her wispy fins. As she moved, the lights flickered and went out, leaving only the pale glow of her hair. No one was in the kitchen to notice. "I'm leading them out—one by one. All who have given what I require to the aquarium may leave it if they wish. That includes you."

All that I require.

There was a time long ago when Jemma might've attacked a fish who spoke like that. "It's your aquarium," she whispered. "You built it this way. With... fish who would eat each other. Disease, famine, and war."

Nerissa stopped opposite her again. "Is that so different from the dry world above? Yours has all of that and more. If you could not suffer, you could not feel joy. You would be the same as the mindless things that look like us, swimming naturally in your oceans."

Jemma's hand tightened into a fist. Suffering and joy—like the scales and illustrations on her wall. Now there was one more. "These fish pray to you, I think," she whispered. "Do you take them to a dark ocean when they die? Is Liam there now, watching me?"

Nerissa brushed against her face with one delicate hand. "Even a feeble soul is precious, Jemma. But the living should concern themselves with life. You've seen Liams come and go within these glass walls—but for you, this is eight days. Soon the sun will rise on the ninth, by my count. It will be a long time before you swim those waters."

Jemma sniffed, then sobbed. She tried to fight it back—but she was only eight days older than when she'd first entered the aquarium. She held onto the strange, pale fish, the way her children had once clung to her.

"Can I take her?" Jemma asked. "My youngest—Melody. She deserves the kind of life I had."

"No."

Nerissa's touch turned firm. She lifted Jemma coldly from her shoulder then, glaring at her. "Your world has enough beauty. Mine is desolate, its waters cold and lifeless. Thanks to you, there will be beauty again—music in the water, and cities growing in the reefs. It is not for you to decide whether that future is not good enough for her."

Jemma fell silent. If the fish wasn't so pale, she might not know where she swam. But her skin was almost luminous in the dark, giving Jemma somewhere to look.

"I didn't know... I only know about the aquarium. I don't want her to be trapped in a glass box, with a whole world just out of her reach." Jemma pressed one hand against the countertop, then lifted it back again. "Will that change?"

Nerissa smiled. "I have been waiting. I had to know you were smart enough to survive. I had to see that you were strong enough to fight. And most importantly—I've been waiting for the magic. I invested most of what I had creating this world, and I lacked the strength to bring it back with me. The goldfish will soon solve that problem. It will be... somewhat dramatic. But you do not have to be here for it."

Nerissa held out her hand. "I did not wish to eternally imprison your kind. You have given enough, Jemma. Come with me, and the ones you love will believe that grief consumed you, and you passed beside your mate. They will tell stories of your enduring love for generations."

Jemma reached for the outstretched hand—then pulled back. "Is Kisten still here?"

Nerissa shrugged. "If she decides to follow the creatures of my new world to that distant sea, it is not for you to tell her no."

Jemma nodded. "But if she goes, I wanna go too."

Nerissa pulled back her hand. She circled Jemma again, her thin fins trailing along the walls. "You will not see me again until the end, Jemma. It would be easier to accept my offer than swim to the edge of the world. War ravages the aquarium. Beyond the walls of Algaegard, there are many predators, and little food."

"I know." Jemma folded her arms, growing more confident with every word. "I'm not leaving until I see Kisten. And if you want her—I promise not to try to convince her. She's probably way more important than I ever was. You can't give away your best talent."

The dark fish laughed, her voice quiet but somehow filling the whole church. "Don't sell yourself short, koi. Algaegard might not be here without you."

The lights flickered, then burst back to brilliant light. Jemma shielded her face with her arm, wincing as her eyes adjusted.

By the time she could see again, Jemma was alone.