Ephesta's feet dangled off the rotting end boards of the dock, back and forth in a pendulum swing over the opalescent foam of the briny black sea.
The rags around her shoulders prevented little of the salty draft from chilling her skin, and her cloak sat next to her on the wooden planks, small herbal bundles and bottles all but spilling out of its many pockets. Her hat's brim curled its lip in the wind, displeased by the cold breeze brought on by the tide, but unwilling to go flying off her head in treasonous fashion. The moon rose overhead, gleaming its full visage onto the waves as they crashed against the dock's beams. Ephesta tightened her grip on the weaved line of twine hanging down between her feet, focused on where it disappeared into the foam. Crystals and moonstones weaved into the twine gleamed, catching and throwing the moon's light with rainbow hues, seeming to grow brighter by the moment as they hung above the water. It was an especially stormy evening, dark clouds tumbling into one another in the pale night sky.
It was said in Ephesta's coastal village that once, many years ago, a young girl had tripped off the sheer cliffside and fallen into the sea. There was much gossip about the tragedy, and spun stories spread like wildfire. The girl's body was never recovered. Perhaps any sane person would acknowledge that the story was an old folk tale, or even that the girl's body had been torn apart by the beasts of the sea after she had fallen. Ephesta was certain that all of that was hogwash, but Ephesta was no sane person: she was a witch.
Ephesta tugged the line gently up from the depths to check that the vessel was still hooked into the braid: a gleaming white cow's skull wrapped in tendrils of seaweed and kelp emerged, a wax scroll fixed in its jaw. She sighed, lowering it back down into the black deep. Every full moon she brought the same sacrifice to the dock in hopes of luring back the girl- or whatever had taken her into the sea's watery grave. She sat fruitlessly by the ocean's shore every full moon, until her fingers turned purple and she could stand the wind and the waves no more.
It seems, she thought, it shall be the same again this moon.
The biting wind and impending storm were eating at her patience, and she shivered bitterly. She gripped the line in one hand and leaned, fishing for her cloak to break some of the chill. As she was pulling it up onto her shoulder, something grabbed the line and pulled- hard. So hard that the line itself snapped, a smattering of crystals ripped free plummeting into the foamy water. Ephesta scrambled onto her hands, watching them sink, her heart sinking with them. She watched the surface for a long breathless moment, eyes searching below its surface.
A heavy peel of thunder rolled through the night, and the sea seemed to surge forward, the tide ripping into a frothy frenzy. Lighting seared through the sky, kissing the waves in the distance. Ephesta knelt frozen, still on her hands and staring into the abyss, when she heard it. The dragging of claws over the wood beams of the dock below her. She rose slowly to her feet, backing up, one hand clutching her flapping hat, the other reaching for the dagger in her belt.
The waves surged up in a colossal splashing tower as something came shooting out of the tide, hurtling towards Ephesta. It bowled into the wood, tumbling and clattering before rolling to a stop at her feet. The cow skull's empty eye sockets stared up at her, stripped of its kelp and seaweed bindings, the scroll nowhere to be seen. She stared, heart pounding, and a wild smile began to work its way onto her face, an adrenaline laced laugh burbling out of her throat. She looked up towards the end of the dock, and saw a clawed, webbed hand reach up from the crashing waves, digging its nails into the soft rotting dock. Then, another, and a large shape hauled its upper half out of the black brine. The wind whipped Ephesta's cloak around her legs and another thunderous clap rang out, followed by a flash that illuminated the figure for a brief moment.
It was a monstrous thing, almost humanoid in shape, but covered by algae patches of sea-smoothed scaling. Long, thin black hair covered most of its pale white face and shoulders as they gave way to the scales, its arms spiny and barnacle-crusted. Another flash of lightning, closer this time, showed milky white eyes on a feminine human face, thin fangs peeking out from red flushed lips. More long spines protruded from a bent, bony back, white skin gleaming in the moonlight.
"Witch,"
Came a garbled, watery growl from the creature,
"you have sought me."
Ephesta stood, breathless, still grinning like a madwoman.
"I have!" She proclaimed, dragging the words from her buzzing chest,
"I am Ephesta, witch of the Eastern Sea. I seek the girl taken by the waves."
The dock groaned as the creature heaved more of itself out of the sea, its lower body eel-like and blackened, writhing to push itself partially out of the water. Its milky eyes narrowed. Thunder rung out overhead again, but neither witch nor creature flinched.
"You have found her, though girl I am no more. What business do you have to disturb me?"
Ephesta hesitated, fingers skimming the handle of her dagger, chewing on her lip. What to ask first?
"Did you fall? Or were you pushed?" she asked, eyes roaming over the creature's webbed hands and spiny arms.
"My human father pushed me in a fit of rage, though I do not believe he meant for me to fall so far." It gurgled, struggling to gain purchase as waves slapped at its long tail. Ephesta simply stared, hypnotized.
"What have you become?" she asked, quietly.
"I am a daughter of the sea," It responded, grinning a wide, uncanny grin as it clawed more of its serpentine body onto the dock, rows of uneven yellowed fangs reflecting in the moonlight. "Why have you sought me, Witch?"
Ephesta found her tongue heavy in her mouth, her grip on the dagger loosening as it clattered to the wood, watching the droplets drip off the creature's hair. It raised itself up, only a couple feet from Ephesta's face, and reached its clawed hand up to brush some of her hair out from in front of her face. It studied her expression for a moment, glossy eyes meeting her brown ones.
"You wish to join me." It rasped, plainly. Ephesta nodded slowly, a bit embarrassed.
"People have become tiring,' she mumbled, "and I yearn to be under the waves."
The creature smiled its yellow smile, offering Ephesta its hand.
"Piscis," it garbled, "was my name. Soon, you will cast yours to the waves as I have, Witch."
Ephesta put her hand into the creature's, its slimy smooth palm tightening and claws curling over her flesh as it pulled her to the end of the dock. As she reached the end at a near run, she jumped, her cloak and hat flying off into the wind. There was little splash as the witch of the East Sea sank into the brine, thunder and lightning applauding the leap. The next morning, the townspeople found only her hat, covered in sand and salt on the beach, and her cloak wrapped around a boat hitch off the side of the dock.
There once was a girl who fell into the sea, and a witch who followed.