The Next Incarnation of Joan

My spirit left with the smoke of my body, drifted west to the Celtic Sea. It then went north beyond the purple mist to an array of singing whirlpools. There it entered a gate to the undersea realm, thus ending my incarnation as Joan of Arc.

Here in the kingdom of Tír fo Thuinn I’ve a sleek new body of silver blue, with a caudal fin for swimming. After ceremoniously handed a luminous sword, a seahorse to ride, and a battalion of krakens, I quickly rose up the ranks. Strange, murky cities now fall before me: the blood and viscera of sea elves, mermen, and woman-o-wars swirling about in my wake.

For a helmet I wear the carved, gold-plated skull of a rogue priest who stalked my spirit and condemned me to Hell—all for the “sin” of cross-dressing, a sin he himself was guilty of. What foolishness! And yes, the lore is true: after knocking the man off his boat I fought several great white sharks for possession of the head, and won.

Today my name is Joan of Tír fo Thuinn. I am happily, if not ambivalently, married, and have thousands of offspring. Though saintly voices still drive me, they are often Celtic, not just Christian.

This new incarnation suites me well. I am beloved, feared, respected, and have reached my true potential, suppressed as it was by the humans. I sometimes question if they ever deserved me at all. I wonder, too, if my previous incarnation as Joan of Arc was nothing more than a soldier spirit in training, a stepping stone, and if perhaps all spirits have a bigger destiny beyond the mortal realm.

First published in The Fifth Di... in 2022.