Ariel's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Ariel gripped the beam and pulled herself up. Her new legs shook. She set one foot forward and dropped hard to the boards. The witch watched from the hearth and did not help. "Stand," Baba Yaga said. Ariel tried again. She got both feet under her. She wobbled, arms wide, and stayed up. She looked at Baba Yaga and grinned. She had done it. "Walk to me," the witch said. Ariel lifted her right foot. The moment it touched the floor, pain shot up her leg. It felt like she had stepped into fire. Her mouth opened in a scream, but no sound came. She fell to her knees and clutched her foot. She stared at the sole. No burn. No blister. Only skin. Baba Yaga crossed the floor. She crouched. Her yellow eyes came level with Ariel's. "The pain is part of the spell," she said. "Every step. Fire. Always." Ariel shook her head. She pressed her hands flat to the boards and begged with her eyes. Take it back. Make it stop. "It does not stop," Baba Yaga said. "There is more." Ariel went still. "You walk to reach the prince," the witch said. "If he marries you, you keep the legs. If he marries another, you die. You melt into seafoam at dawn." Ariel's chest went tight. She touched her own throat, where her voice had been. She could not sing to him now. She could not tell him she was the girl from the sand. She had to win his heart with silence and a smile, and every step toward him would burn. Baba Yaga stood. She went to a barrel by the wall and lifted out a folded gown. Pink, with red apples stitched down the skirt. She dropped it on the floor beside Ariel. "You cannot go bare," she said. "Put it on. Then walk. Ten steps across this floor." Ariel stared at the dress, then at the door. The house swayed on its chicken legs. Somewhere past the tide line, the prince slept in a warm house. She would never reach him crawling. She pulled the gown over her head. The cloth settled to her ankles. She braced against the beam and rose. Her legs held. She took a step. Fire tore through her foot. She bit down and did not fall. Second step. Third. Tears ran down her face. She counted with her lips, silent. The pain never faded. Each step burned as sharp as the last. Ten steps. She reached the far wall and pressed her palm to it, shaking. Baba Yaga watched from across the room. "Good. You can walk." She turned back to her hearth. "Now the work." Ariel stood in the borrowed gown, on legs that burned, mute, with a life that would end at the prince's wedding if the groom was not her. She had traded everything to reach the surface. Now she knew the true cost of walking it.