Some time ago.

Θεσσαλονίκη. Thessaloniki. The English was written right below the Greek, etched into the port wall along with the optimistic scribbles of vandals eager to proclaim that they were here. Algae had started to take root in the engraving, marking it a slightly brighter green than the more greyed stone backdrop. Through the crystal blue water of the Mediterranean, darkened to near black by night, the letters swam.

Thessaloniki. A fitting name for a place to end, or begin.

It was almost impossible to see the woman observing the submerged word. The colour and movement of her liquid skin blended so well with the sea that her outline made her appear an optical illusion. Even when her head broke the surface of the water, it seemed a swell in the tide; her thick green hair a floating trail of kelp. Only when two watery hands reached up over the port wall, the fingers spreading firmly where they found the concrete surface above, did the woman finally fall into sharper relief. Living liquid, glistening in the moonlight, she heaved herself up onto the promenade, her drowned hair slapping the ground.

The glowing city, quieted by nightfall, loomed over her in steel and concrete. Silent as a ghost, the water woman turned and walked slowly along the harbour. She didn’t go far before pausing outside a small, unassuming building which snuck between a glass-fronted art gallery and a restaurant. Few people would have noticed the building was there at all; the mortal eye seemed to pass straight over it. The water woman pressed her liquid palms against the wooden door, her face too long and drawn to show any hint of surprise when it yielded before her with only a quiet creak of complaint.

Within, the single room was much more grandiose than its meek exterior. The water woman stepped over colourful murals, her electric blue eyes drawn to scenes of adoration painstakingly painted along the walls. At the far end, she knelt before the marble altar and spread her hands on the ground, her hair falling across her face. In spite of the living city only inches away beyond timber walls, the only sound that could be heard was the steady drip of water from the rat tails of her hair. She inhaled a deep breath which temporarily raised the dead weight of life from her shoulders.

“My father.” She closed her eyes, rolling her lower lip under her teeth. The weight of the world came flooding back, unbearable. “I need a miracle to live.”

Silence. From behind, a gentle, warm breeze seemed to pick up. The water woman thought she heard the confident voice of a powerful man in her ear.

Then a miracle you shall have.

--

Present day.

The radio blinked twice on her hip, buzzing into life. Over the radio waves, her colleague’s voice sounded distorted and tinny. Damn equipment.

“Viper. Come in, Viper.”

Viper ran her fingers along her jawline, eyeing her reflection in the still pool. Insects hummed across the surface of the murky green water, performing exotic dances with their flashing wings. Only when she’d found the nick in her light olive skin did she reach for the radio with one hand, keeping the index finger of the other firmly over the cut.

“Reading you, Crash.”

“Mission confirmed.” Crash’s voice over the radio sounded a little stifled – sympathetic, even. “Guess I won’t be seeing you.”

Wordlessly, Viper clipped the radio back onto her belt. She felt back along the belt with her fingers, tugging at a small, fabric bag attached just behind the radio. The drawstring came easily apart under her fingers, and it only took a second of searching before she found what she was looking for: an alcohol wipe. The cut was only small, but out here even the smallest gash could turn rancid in a matter of hours. She lifted the alcohol wipe to her face and carefully cleaned over the nick in her jaw, keeping her brown eyes fixed on the pool. Only when she was satisfied that it had been effectively sanitised did she crumple up the wipe in her fist and turn back to the half a dozen or so young people waiting anxiously behind her.

The majority of them were in their early twenties, but there were a couple of older teenagers mixed in. Every single one was kitted up in a khaki outfit similar to Viper’s, each sporting the Alliance logo on the chest. Out here at Base Four, widely known simply as the Jungle, protocols weren’t followed so strictly. Officers didn’t bother using uniform to show rank, since everyone on base knew who everyone else was. The only people who weren’t intimately acquainted with every member of this isolated branch of the Alliance were the newbies, and they were at the bottom of the food chain anyway. The ones with an ounce of sense didn’t question rank. The ones without sense didn’t survive.

“Alright, pansies.” Viper announced, resting her hands on her hips. “You can all fuck off. Spread out, stay together, I don’t care. Be back at base in two weeks.”

The newbies glanced at one another. Viper watched their silent exchanges with a quirked eyebrow, waiting to see which one would be brave enough to raise their hand first. She and Crash had had bets on the big guy with the square head, but they were both proven wrong. A teenage girl with brown hair tied back into a ponytail lifted a hesitant finger first.

“Um, excuse me.” Her forehead creased slightly. “Aren’t you supposed to be training us?”

“Well.” Viper smiled. “Look at that, pansies that want training. I don’t train flowers, honey.” She slipped the alcohol wipe into the pocket of her shorts. “Survive the jungle for two weeks and then we’ll see about training you.”

She hopped off the rocks by the pool and strolled past them, slipping her hands into her pockets. She’d only gone a few yards before one of the newbies, apparently realising that she was serious, called after her.

“But you haven’t given us any supplies! This can’t be protocol!”

Viper paused, spinning slowly on the spot. She arched an eyebrow at the recruits standing uselessly around the clearing in their Alliance uniforms.

“You want protocols, go to Base Two.” She scoffed. “I hear they’re real soft on newbies up in the mountains. Welcome to the Jungle, flower.”

She turned and strode away, allowing herself a subtle shaking of the head. These guys were way too green. Most new recruits to the Alliance didn’t start off at Base Four for their terrain training; the officers at HQ usually broke them in a little easier with Base One or Base Two. Maybe these guys had all pissed someone at HQ off. Usually when recruits were sent here first, it was because they needed knocking down a peg or five.

Rather than following the same path she’d led the newbies down, Viper veered off towards the river. If any of the newbies had done what she did next, she’d’ve packed them off on the next flight home. Without pausing to consider what might be lurking beneath the surface of the brown-green water, Viper leapt straight in, exhaling as she did. As she released her breath, her tanned skin softened into a crystal blue liquid and her eyes sharpened and shifted to the colour of sapphires. Her hair lengthened and thickened, retaining its green hue, and a pair of kelp wings expanded on her back. By the time she submerged beneath the surface of the river, Viper might have been mistaken for a rainforest nymph. She followed the river all the way back to base, built haphazardly on its banks, before stepping out. There was a proper building further back from the river, but most of the base was composed of wooden rooftops held up by timber posts. Walls were an unnecessary cost, for the most part; magic kept the jungle from invading Base Four.

Crash was under one of the wooden canopies by the river bank, peering at the computer screen over Nerd’s shoulder. He didn’t even look around as Viper strode towards them, dripping river water onto the gleaming green ferns.

“Don’t get the equipment wet, Vipe.” He warned.

Viper inhaled. Her skin solidified, returning to its olive-brown hue, and her hair and wings retracted. By the time she reached Crash’s side, she was bone dry and looking no different to how she had moments before in the forest clearing.

“You’re damn certain about this mission?” She frowned at the blue laptop screen, its contents a puzzle of characters in a variety of languages. Nerd nodded.

“Yep. They didn’t even bother sending the details.” He smirked. “They just assume I hack all the mission briefs before they’re formally sent over.”

Even HQ seemed to accept that protocols weren’t followed in the Jungle. Or maybe they just knew there was nothing they could do to stop Nerd. He’d been hired by the Alliance after they discovered that they couldn’t build a security system which he couldn’t hack; now he built the security systems from his station out here.

Viper reached up and ran her hand through her hair, pulling her fringe back from her face. Crash noticed.

“Hey. It’s a quick mission.” He grinned a little lopsidedly at her. Crash had earned his nickname on day two in the Jungle when he’d smashed into some of Nerd’s electrical equipment. He hadn’t been able to smile straight since. “Go to Shaman, deliver a message, come back and shout at some newbies.”

“Depends on how the message is received.” Nerd noted, tapping at the keyboard. “If that guy Mace wants to keep you, you can kiss goodbye to the Jungle. And us. Do I get a kiss?”

He turned to pucker his lips at her, but the humorous expression dropped from his face like a stone in water as his hazel eyes settled on something over her shoulder. Viper’s lips curled round into a smirk. She didn’t need to turn to know what it was; she could already feel the tiger’s presence tugging at the corner of her mind. A moment later, her familiar, Mordowrgi, prowled around from behind her with his yellow eyes fixed on Nerd. Everything but his head and a strip of fur along his back was wet, indicating that he’d just come from the river. He circled the group before coming to a halt on Crash’s other side, staring at the laptop screen. Nerd’s shoulders, which had been getting tenser the closer Mordowrgi got, could have been made of solid wood.

“It appears Sabriel, daughter of Twinge, is returning to Shaman.” The tiger rumbled.

Viper’s smirk turned to a grimace. She nodded once, biting back the unfamiliar taste of her own name on her tongue. She’d been Viper for so long – ever since she’d been bitten by that pit viper in her first week – that Sabriel seemed a lost part of her identity. An echo of a former life.

“It appears she is.”