HE RIVER weaved amongst the trees, the water singing as it churned over the rocks, and it nourished the fauna. In the sunlight it glittered like minerals, and at night the stars adorned the dark waves like jewels in a crown.

The river goddess Ishrya, beautiful and powerful, lived in the water. She rose from the ripples, her hair dripping like a waterfall, and the water reflected her emotions. She rarely left her oasis. When the other gods and goddesses wished to see her they came to her shore, waiting for permission to enter her cool waters.

Ishrya was temperamental, however, and sensitive to the changes in the Wilderland’s environment. While she could be kind and generous, she also was proud and haughty and unafraid to mock others. She loved furiously and passionately, but her moods and affection were fickle. There were times when she flooded the forest floor, leaving pieces of the Wilderland as mucky as a swamp, for she felt slighted by Detero, the forest god. In exchange, a rock slide would tumble into the river, creating a dam. Detero and Ishrya shared a long lasting rivalry, one that extended past either’s recollection. Despite their grudging respect for each other, they both vied for the title of most powerful in the Wilderland.

Like the other deities, she created her own palace within the water. 

The creatures she spun from her imagination and the natural landscape lived in harmony beneath the surface, playing their own part in sustaining a balanced environment. There was an assortment of fish, their colors twinkling brilliantly. Kelp sprouted from the pebbly bottoms, cattails swayed and danced in the breeze, and the rush provided shelter from the warm summer months. The water beings adored Ishrya and obediently resided in their miniature kingdom, doting on their queen.

Earlier that season, Ishrya saw a forest nymph as she strolled through the thicket. Although the nymph, Gayan, belonged to Detero, Ishrya called softly and lured her to her shore. For the past few months, Ishrya had spoiled Gayan with food, songs, and gifts, enticing her to avoid dry land. One afternoon, Ishrya and Gayan lazily sprawled on a trail of rocks leading down to the bank of cattails. Ishrya adorned Gayan in moss, and the trickling of the water lulled them to a doze.

The cattails entertained them with their movement, a peaceful ballad for a warm day. Ishrya stretched out her long limbs, her skin tinted blue and green, and sat up.

“I’m bored,” she stated bluntly. 

Gayan, her hair as dark and thick as soil, glanced at the goddess. She watched as Ishrya looked about their surroundings—the calm and peaceful retreat she built.

But she was still unsatisfied.

Gayan smirked as she brushed her fingers through her curly hair.

“Of course you’re bored, Ishrya. You only create those which you can control. Why do you not craft something different, something not beautiful or predictable?”

Ishrya stiffened.

“What do you mean I only create what I can ‘control?’ Do you think I control the rush, the fish, everything that lives beside me?”

Gayan shook her head.

“I did not intend to upset you, my love! I was merely repeating what I have heard Detero say. He states that you refuse to live alongside things that are terrifying or clever, things that might possibly outwit you. Your vanity restrains you from creating something with a mind of its own.”

“Pah!” Ishrysa’s palm smacked the water. “Detero said this? That I cannot create something clever?”

Ishrya balked. Of course she was not terrified. Did the other gods not see her impact on the Wilderland? She too could create something not designed for admiration, but for amusement, and mischief. One that was not predictable, one that could cause distress to her element.

Ishrya’s nimble form dived into the water to the bottom of the river.

Taking sediment from the river bed, she molded a lumpish form with a nose shaped like a bulbous kelp and with hands and fingers like legs akin to her crustaceans. The creatures’ skins were green dusted with a gray hue, and their legs were bowlegged, their toes webbed. 

In her frustration Ishrya also imbued her own cunning and defiant nature into these new beings. She called them “goblins” for their grotesque build, but gifted them one redeeming trait—the ability to sing beautifully underwater. Their voice was so pure, so opposing to their fearful features, that the dichotomy delighted and amused her for a long time.

OR YEARS incalculable to human minds, the goblins were the jesters and minstrels of her aquatic court. They sang for the river deity, her lovers, and the visiting supreme beings. They performed comedic shows as well, causing great merriment and laughter to be heard from the watery depths.

However, their mischievousness did not permit them to be satisfied with their station for long.

They began to squabble and fight. Their disruption angered the river goddess. They dragged other river creatures into their mischief by pranking and playing tricks on them. One fish woke up to a young goblin blowing bubbles on their fins. Two goblins stole a crab’s shell and smeared it with sediment from the shore. Ishrya did not expect their avaricious ways. The goblins often smuggled stones, rocks, shells, and other trinkets into their hovels beneath the ripples. 

During the rare flood they frantically plundered the soaked forest floor, their hunched backs dotting the ground like acorns. They gathered their treasure and brought it to the water where they burrowed in their rock caverns, viciously protecting their hoard.

One night the river goddess woke up to the goblins singing. The moon was full and heavy, like a pregnant belly, and the night air was cool and crisp. At first she heard the goblins’ lovely voices, sweet like dew and rich like moss, and she smiled blissfully. However, she soon heard the malicious words and the goblins’ impish laughter punctuating the warbled notes. Incensed, she reached for her shell crown, but her fingers brushed against silt. It was gone.

To her horror, she saw her goblins, the ugly buffoons, dancing and singing. They bounced beneath the ripples, their bowlegs keeping the tempo of their song.

“Lo, Fishy Ishy
Paints herself to look pretty
But no shale can hide
The scales and fins she denies!
As she courts herself,
Fool, we run off with her wealth!”

When they saw her watching them, anger and betrayal glowing in her eyes, they only cackled gleefully.

“Insolent goblins!” She stormed, her fury turning the water cold. “You dare mock me!” 

As the goblins laughed at her offense the river goddess melted into the water, her strands of hair, skin, and essence disappearing into the current. As she dissolved the river rose, creeping and seeping over the land. Pulled by the flood the goblins kicked their feet eagerly towards the edges of the shore, greedily scrabbling for new treasures on the earth floor. Pinecones, acorns, clay rocks, dried squirrel droppings—their claws groped for anything new they could find. 

However, Ishrya was not finished. Quicker than a glint of sunlight, the water receded, splashing back to the goddess’ outstretched hand with a slurp. The goblins were left on the land, their faces buried in the mud. They gasped for air as they emerged, sludge masking their contorted features.

Gripping their trinkets, they crawled to the river's edge, their webbed and bow legged feet unfit for walking. One goblin reached and touched the water tentatively, but screamed and curled back. A blister had formed where the water had touched. 

Ishrya laughed beneath the surface with haughty mirth.

“No longer will you be revered and adored in the water for your singing. No longer will you be able to touch my river water without burning. Your descendants will look at the river with fear.”

Her voice echoed up from the silky waters.

The goblins howled in anger at their creator, and lived their lives crawling upon the forest floor. Other creatures were repulsed by their disfigurement, not dazzled by their talented voices which were useless without Ishrya’s water. Instead, they drooled, grunted, and groaned to one another, their song snatched from them. 

S TIME went on they learned to hobble on their crooked knees. They were seen as an abomination amongst the other creatures, a mischievous thicket of thieves who stole and lived off the fruits of others. As a result, the goblins hid from the other beings.

But Detero was pleased to have them for himself, and one afternoon appeared before them. 

Daylight was scarce as the goblins scrounged beneath the bushes for trinkets. Two males began to fight one another over a particularly shiny stone, and the other goblins jeered and mocked them from the sidelines. The wind rustled the trees, and some pebbles jingled against one another as Detero stepped before them. The goblins immediately stopped skirmishing and huddled together, staring up at his tall, dark form. 

“Hello, my friends,” Detero smiled, his eyes delighting in their surprise. “I see you are no longer welcomed back to Ishrya’s waters.” He folded his hands before his broad chest. “While she may not appreciate your bawdy humor and vulgar mischief, I particularly find them quite amusing. As you see, I do not mind you wandering on my lands. In fact, I have been waiting for you. It took Ishrya longer than I expected to dispose of you. 

“And now that you are here, I can now be honest with you. It was I who wanted you to be created. The Wilderland bores me, and Ishrya herself can only provide me with compelling entertainment for so long. Her insistence on perfection and her obsessive vanity disgusts me. She intended to steal Gayan from me, but little does she understand loyalty. All those I create remain true to me— and only me.” 

The huddled goblins stared at the Forest god. Detero’s smile widened.

“I propose this to you– you may stay here in the Wilderland. Revel in your cunningness, your mischievous tendencies. You can mock me when the urge comes, sing lewd songs about the forest creatures, but I will call upon you to serve me. And remember this—you belong only to me. Should you dare to question where your legion lies, remember that I can quickly destroy you. And your kind will be no more.” 

His words stunned the goblins. Finally they nodded.

“We understand,” croaked one with a warty nose. 

Detero nodded solemnly, a smirk dancing on his lips. He disappeared with a whisper of leaves. 

Several meters away, hidden from view by the bushes, the river’s rapids swirled and churned. Two swans twirling on the water quickly took flight. 

The rising water swallowed some of their stray, white feathers. The water railed against the rocks like a woman caterwauling.