My Mom is a Maternal Slime

"Lady of the Lake"

A well-known figure in Arthurian legends depicts an enchantress who resides in the waters on the mythical island of Avalon. Most know her as the one who gave Excalibur to King Arthur.

There are other roles too, such as becoming the foster mother to Lancelot and nurturing him into becoming the brave, yet divisive knight in King Arthur's round table.

She was also Merlin's love…and his demise.

The title, however, may not belong to a single person, as indicated by the lack of cohesiveness between tales and differences in passion. Thanks to various medieval authors, there are two names most commonly associated with the enchantress: Nimue and...

"Viviane," Anne repeats as her eyes scan an article among many tabs on the browser.

Daniel leans behind her, watching the screen with raised brows. Only after organizing his thoughts does he relax with a small snort. "I mean...it kinda makes sense."

"How so?"

"Well, aside from her name and connection to Merlin, she has been around lakes."

"..."

As Anne stares blankly at her son, Daniel sweats a little. Before he might be judged for saying something so obvious, he clears his throat and adds further, "As in, that's her domain, and I think it's your domain too. In fact, when I asked about the lakes, she said..."

This whole realm can be thought of as Anne's inner space. While it's unknown why I ended up here as part of my lesser half, I've learned these waters represent memories and knowledge that she has consumed.

Anne narrows her eyes at his rougher explanation, then hums. "I can see that since it could only be accessed through me, but then why did it collapse when she disappeared?"

"Maybe it's actually a shared domain between you two? I can't think of any other reason why such a realm would react."

"A shared domain..."

The slime mother flattens her lips for a moment before sighing. "Instead of speculating, I wish we could just take a nap together and confirm this."

"Mary wouldn't appreciate us going on ahead without her, plus you need her to sleep."

"Do I? Mama could merge with you completely, and-"

Catching herself, she shuts her mouth and lowers her head. "S-sorry, forget I said that. I really shouldn't be risking anything more without knowing what state I'm in...and what state she's in."

Daniel's face softens. With a sigh, he leans closer and wraps his arms around his slime mother's shoulders.

"Mom, I know it's frustrating, but we can't rush."

"I just...I'm afraid, Daniel. I'm so afraid for her."

"I know..."

"We're both your mothers; we both share Amy, but...I've never realized how much I wanted someone like me until now."

Anne squeezes her son's arm, keeping him close as she buries her chin in. They remain like this in silence for a few minutes before the slime mother relaxes, letting go of her son and staring back at the monitor with curled lips.

"Do you think it's true: Merlin dying at her hands?"

Daniel shakes his head as he pulls away. "I don't know. How much of these myths are truths is something we're only beginning to find out."

But if the artist is honest, such a wise yet clumsy silver slime doesn't seem to be of that character. Then again, she's lost much of herself. Without knowing the real history, there may even have been legitimate reasons for such a tale depicting Merlin's end.

On that note, Daniel is worried about Mary. She may trust her uncle, but there's no certainty about anything.

Breathing out, he pats her shoulder. "Let's move on for now and look up that name that was mentioned in your latest vision. You said it was the Goddess..."

"...Isis? You're talking about the Goddess Isis, right? Mike, we've already checked so many Egyptian records!"

Working from home, Lecia lays down her skepticism in front of her trusted friend in a video call. The archeologist on the other side rubs his scruffy hair with a sigh.

"I know, but clearly there's more. Especially after hearing from Jessica about a record claiming Cleopatra's revival, I had to look into it. What I found shares similarities to our situation and the missing body at the cemetery."

Lecia groans, placing a hand on her face. "My god, Mike. Even if you didn't reveal much to your wife, we can't involve outsiders, regardless of whether they're-"

"A green sort of energy was also mentioned in this record."

The Stonehenge leader straightens, her frustration with her college friend vanishing as she furrows her brows. "What?"

Finally catching his friend's attention, Mike relaxes visibly on screen. "It was hard to gather much since it's barely published online. I had to ask a few of our members based in Cairo to check the local journals. Just as my wife told me, there's a Roman poet who described a meeting with one of Cleopatra's servants.

"In it, their claim is that the queen revived and escaped entombment after taking her life. Supposedly, it's all thanks to her connection to the goddess, Isis."

For a moment, Lecia sours knowing such a historian, unrelated to their organization, is somehow providing a better lead. That's on top of capturing her friend's heart. Luckily, it barely shows on her face as she clears her throat.

"It's known that Cleopatra declared herself to be a manifestation of Isis, which obviously helped to legitimize her rule among the people."

Mike nods. "Except not quite in life, but if we're to believe this secondhand account, then most certainly in death. You're aware of the Book of the Dead?"

"Sure," Lecia answers, a little annoyed by his verifying. "It's a series of spells the Egyptians wrote to help guide kings and queens into the afterlife."

"Yes, and during the funeral and mummifying process, the same was done for Cleopatra; however, the servant told the poet that these spells, provided by their mistress, were unlike anything seen before. During their recitation, they saw an emerald light rise above the queen's coffin from the many jewels that surrounded her."

Lecia widens her eyes. "Wait, not a fire, but a light?"

"That's how it was described in Latin, but it could've been a fire. In any case, we know Cleopatra loved emeralds, and so it's easy to assume her body and tomb would be filled with them. Such a light could've been just a reflection off the emeralds...or at least, you'd think so until this part of the poem struck me."

Mike shares his screen, showing the Latin poem transcribed in a Word document. In it, a portion is highlighted. Since it's a more recognizable Latin that Lecia studied before, she's able to immediately understand it as she translates aloud.

"A shadow from emerald light surrounded our queen of the night. From her body, Isis rose. Her tomb untouched and the queen...unfold?"

"The first two sentences declare Cleopatra's resurrection into the goddess herself. What's notable is that the poet described a shadow from the light rather than the light itself surrounding the queen."

"It may as well be a shadow with what we know," Lecia agrees, her heart growing heavier.

"The third sentence," Mike continues, "...is a bit of a contradiction. How can the tomb be untouched if this shadow comes to revive?"

Lecia raises a hand to her chin. "Because speaking realistically, a shadow wouldn't affect anything, right?"

"Except the body in this case, which came undone."

"Gone, I'm sure," Lecia adds, sighing. "I understand now. This could match what we've observed."

"However, the servants assume what rose is Isis. If we ignore such faith, is that really true? How would they know?"

"Regardless," the former archeologist dismisses. "It gives some credence to the idea that our creature hasn't disappeared and is out there in some form."

"If it's really the same case," Mike cautions. "If only someone was able to discover Cleopatra's tomb."

But there's little chance that's happening in a search that's been going on for decades. As such, Lecia scoffs.

"We'd die of old age before that happens. How about looking into any events and history related to the goddess' followers?"

Mike widens his eyes. "Oh! You're talking about the Cult of Isis, right?"

Lecia smiles at the sudden glimmer in her friend's eyes. "The very one. Of course, be discrete with your search. We still need to keep the number of people who are aware of the aftermath minimal."

Mike nods. "Of course. I'll keep you posted, Lecia."

The call ends, and with it, the Sights Open President breathes out slowly.

There remains much to explore, but right now, her interest lies in the artist she commissioned. If the second-hand account is to be believed, Daniel's mother didn't just disappear.

She revived into something else.

"I need to tell Rachel," Lecia whispers to herself.

But first, it's time to open up her schedule for visiting the artist on his painting progress.