Why Did No One Tell Me Macha Tea Tastes Like Fish?

The waves crashed in at the edge of the great lake. It was the magic hour, and the beach was lit up with purples, oranges, and pinks with shadows galore. They stood at the shore watching the water wash over their bare feet. In and out, the water would coat their skin and then recede. They tried to match their breathing to the waves. Deep breaths as the waves rolled in and long exhales as they rolled out. Relaxation was necessary after the day they had.

After a particularly grounding breath, they threw a polished jade stone into the water and waited. The waves moved and seagulls called, and they stood waiting the spirit’s arrival with more deep breaths. Time itself seemed to stand still, and it took all of their power to hold their emotions at bay. Suddenly, rushing water was heard far out in the middle of the lake. Green foam rose from the depths and hissed as it hit the open air. Beneath the foam came monstrous craggy rocks covered in seaweed that created an outline of a massive throne. Rainbow trout leapt away from the rising structure. On the towering seat was a translucent being shaded in a deep green. It was as if they were made of liquid emerald.

“You dropped this,” said the being as they held out their flowing hand. In it was the piece of polished jade. Their features shifted constantly with the moving water.
“It’s yours, Testrel. Consider it an offering,” replied the human.

Testrel whipped it at their head. “I have no use for your pity or your trash. Be gone.” The rushing sound returned and the throne began to recede back into the water.

“Fine,” said the human, rubbing the swollen part of their forehead where the stone struck. “Consider it a threat instead.” The rushing water stopped, and the stone structure hung partially suspended above the waves.

“What did you say?” said Testrel through narrow eyes. The human tossed the stone back into the water. Testrel watched aghast as it happened.

“I should slay you where you stand!” he shouted. Testrel stood up. “What is your name? Tell me!”

“Dementia,” they replied.

“May these waters curse you then, Dementia. May your hands shrivel into hard husks for throwing your threat of a stone into my lake, and may your mind drain away from your body into the sands. Slowly.”

Dementia felt their hands desiccating like all the water was being syphoned from them. It was incredibly painful. The thoughts in their mind came rushing fast after the curse. A torrent of worry and pain and heartache tried to break through the commotion of it all draining into the waves. Then there was just the lapping of the water on the shore. Peace. Pleased with himself, Testrel sat back down on his throne and sank beneath the lake.

Dementia’s plan had worked almost perfectly. They hadn’t planned on Testrel taking their hands, though they couldn’t remember the plan now. The traumas of the war, the memories of watching their partner take their last breath in their arms, the families screaming as they all met their end. All gone. Dementia had walked here in utter heartache and devastation hoping to find relief, maybe even pity from the local spirit of the lake. What they got wasn’t ideal, but at least they were free.

The full moon was now visible just above the water, and Dementia walked along the shoreline quietly. They raised their husk of a left hand and stared at it in wonder.