Chapter Text
Nina Mazursky’s story was far from a happy one; people called her a monster when in reality, she wasn’t. Nina was born to Edward and Lily Mazursky in Star City. Nina was born different than any other baby; she had a condition where her lungs were outside her body. Her mother wanted to pull the plug, but her father, a brilliant scientist, vowed to help his daughter. From a young age, Nina had to wear a mechanical device to officially pump her lungs that her father had made. However, Nina’s mother, deeming this too cruel, left while she was still a toddler, divorcing her father and leaving Nina to grow up without a mother figure.
However, Nina’s health began to decline and her father was forced to build her heavier suits, and willing to take any risk to save her, he sought to help alleviate Nina's condition by injecting her with fish DNA. After Mazursky was taken for a walk in a park, where she struggled to breathe when walking, her father took her to his lab to implant the changes into her DNA.
Mazursky is transformed into an amphibian metahuman by her father to save her.While this allowed her to breath the liquid in her lungs, it had the unintended side effects of transforming her into an amphibian metahuman and rendering her only able to breath water.
Her father in an act of desperation took her to a sink to douse her in water and despite warnings from his colleagues that he might be drowning her, they found that Nina began to breathe, which shocked them, and upon awakening Nina identified her father. After years of homeschooling, Her father enrolled her into Emberton Prep private school in order to help her socialize. At the meeting with Principal Gale to enroll her, Nina told her about his daughter's breathing issues while Nina appreciated vintage photos of students playing lacrosse, and after Gale agreed to enroll her.
Nina thanked her and asked about the game in the photographs which she then joined in on. Despite her efforts to fit in, Nina was heavily bullied in the school for her appearance, often being called a frog. When playing lacrosse, she was pushed and insulted by her classmates, and later when walking unsteadily through the halls, she was harassed by two students who threatened her by pushing her against the locker to make frog noises, breaking down in tears when they laughed at her. On one occasion when she went to open her locker, she blushed at the sight of the boy she liked.
But when she opened it, she was upset to find a frog while her classmates, including the boy she liked, laughed at her. Nina returned home where she began to cry inconsolably in her room for not being able to deal with all the bullying she received. This, along with viewing herself as a burden to her father, led Nina to run away from home, and live in isolation in the Star City bay. Before disappearing, Nina left a letter to her father, thanking him for everything he had done for her. However, she also claimed that she did not fit into the human world and that she wanted to be free, which he found when he returned from work.
Meanwhile, Nina opened a sewer to abandon her suit and jump out, where she felt happy living hidden under the water. She spent three years in the waters of Star City until she was spotted by a photographer who took a picture of her. Scared, she hid on the surface. The photographer sent the footage to the media, and the authorities called animal control experts to find her. Nina couldn’t risk staying in Star City, so she jumped into the water and swam far away from her old home, her father. She spent days in the ocean, swimming, eating fish to survive, but mostly, trying to escape from any humans.
On a night when the moon glowed white over the water, a storm rose. The waves pulled with a strange force, stronger than tide or wind, and Nina fought against them, panic flooding her veins. But no matter how hard she swam, she was dragged deeper, until everything blurred in a whirl of foam and shadow. When she surfaced, gasping, the storm had vanished. Before her stretched a lagoon unlike any she had known. The cliffs loomed high, sheltering it from the sea. The trees shimmered with strange light, their leaves stirring in a wind she could not feel. For a long while, Nina simply floated at the edge, afraid that this would be like home.
Voices reached her across the water. She slipped closer, careful to keep only her eyes above the waves. On the shore, a gathering had formed: a green-skinned woman with fierce, watchful eyes, trolls with tufts of hair that glowed like lanterns, a boy adjusting the straps of his goggles as he spoke animatedly to others, and a man with a shepherd’s staff who carried himself like a leader. Behind him stood a whole people—tired, cautious, yet held together by faith. Nina’s chest tightened. She had seen crowds before, but never like this. These people did not look like pharaohs or bullies or scientists in white coats—they looked… broken, just like her.
She clung to the waterline, watching, half-longing to go to them, half-convinced she would only be driven away again. Then it happened. The boy—Varian, they called him—was showing something to the trolls, stepping too close to the edge of the rocks. His boot slipped. With a startled cry, he tumbled into the lagoon. The others shouted his name, scrambling toward the water’s edge, but Varian flailed wildly, dragged down by the weight of his cloak and satchel. His arms thrashed once, twice, before panic filled his lungs. Without thinking, Nina dove. The water welcomed her, carried her swift as a dart through the lagoon’s depths.
She caught him before his arms went still, her webbed fingers gripping his collar. Varian’s eyes went wide when he saw her—saw the gills, the scales, the strange face half-hidden in shadow—but his fear dissolved into desperation. She kicked hard, pulling him upward until they broke the surface. She shoved him toward the shallows, where Nimona and Branch waded in to drag him the rest of the way. Coughing and sputtering, Varian collapsed on the sand, alive. The others turned then, finally seeing her. The water dripped down her shoulders, her wide eyes darting like a cornered animal. She did not climb onto the land, not yet.
Her gills fluttered too fast; she could already feel the air clawing at her throat. Instinct drove her back a pace, back toward the water. “Wait,” Elphaba said, stepping forward slowly. Her voice was cautious but kind. “Don’t go. You saved him.”
Loki, who had been silent until now, tilted his head with interest. His eyes glimmered with the sharp curiosity of a man who had seen gods and monsters alike. “Ah,” he murmured, “our mysterious little guardian of the deep.”
Nina shook her head, voice hoarse and low. “I… can’t… stay.” She pressed a hand against her throat, each breath a struggle. Her gills flared, desperate for water.
Varian, still coughing, pushed himself up on his elbows. “No—don’t leave! You saved my life. Please…” His words trailed, choked by gratitude and wonder.
Loki’s smirk softened, though only slightly. He lifted a hand, tracing a quick sigil in the air. A shimmer of light spilled down like a veil, brushing over Nina’s skin. For a moment, she gasped, fearing it would burn, but then—her lungs eased. The tightness in her chest loosened. She inhaled deeply, and for the first time since her transformation, air filled her lungs without pain. Her gills still fluttered, but they no longer clawed for water. Loki spread his hands as though it were nothing at all. “There. A gift, little one. You may breathe above and below the waves now. A small thank-you… for not letting the boy drown.”
Nina stared at him, stunned. Her voice trembled. “Why… why help me?”
Moses stepped forward, his staff steady in the sand. “Because you were led here for a reason. Just as we all were.”
Nina’s eyes burned with tears. She had never heard such words without scorn hidden beneath them. She stepped closer to the shore, uncertain, afraid, yet pulled by something stronger than fear. The firelight painted long shadows across the sand that evening. The lagoon was calm now, reflecting the stars overhead like a mirror of the heavens. Moses’s people had settled in a wide circle near the flames, their voices low as they prayed and shared food. Trolls hummed faint melodies in the background, their harmonies weaving with the crackle of the firewood. Branch sat close with Poppy, Trickee, Hype, Boom, and Ablaze—his little band of companions—while Nimona sprawled on a log, idly shifting between shapes to amuse herself.
Nina hovered at the edge of it all. She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, close enough to feel the heat of the fire, yet far enough that she could dart away toward the lagoon if she needed. Her damp hair clung to her cheeks, her gills pulsed faintly with every breath. Though Loki’s spell allowed her to breathe, the air still felt strange in her lungs, heavy and sharp compared to the soft current of water. Every so often, she dipped her fingers in the damp sand just to ground herself, just to remember she could still run back to the sea if she had to. Elphaba noticed her hesitation.
Quietly, she rose from where she’d been passing food out to her animal friends and brought over a small piece of flatbread roasted over the fire. She crouched beside Nina, offering it with a steady hand. “Try,” she said simply. Her voice carried no judgment, only invitation.
Nina stared at the bread, uncertain. Food by firelight was not something she had known in years. Slowly, she reached out and took it. The first bite was tentative, but warmth spread across her tongue, filling her chest with a comfort she hadn’t expected. She hadn’t eaten real food besides fish in years. Elphaba smiled faintly, then left her to eat without pressing further. Across the fire, Nimona noticed Nina’s uncertainty and decided it was far too quiet. With a mischievous grin, she snapped into the shape of a frog, puffing out her throat dramatically. She hopped three times in a circle before ribbiting loud enough to make kids laugh.
“See?” Nimona croaked in an exaggerated voice. “You’re not the only frog-girl here.” She shifted again, sprouting fins and gills of her own, mimicking Nina’s amphibian form before blowing bubbles at Varian, who nearly choked on his drink laughing.
Nina’s cheeks warmed, but this time it wasn’t with shame. A small sound escaped her lips—a laugh, soft and fragile, but real. Nimona winked, satisfied, and shifted back into herself with a flourish. The circle gradually opened to her. Varian edged closer, still wide-eyed with gratitude. “You really saved me,” he said, voice quiet but earnest. “I… I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You already did,” Nina whispered, glancing down. “You didn’t call me a monster.”
Varian blinked at that, then shook his head fiercely. “A monster? You’re incredible. You’re… you’re alive when the world tried to say you shouldn’t be. That’s not a monster. That’s strength.”
Nina’s throat tightened. She looked away quickly, clutching the bread as though it might vanish.
It was then Moses stood. The firelight cast his face in solemn gold, his staff planted firmly in the sand. He looked at Nina not with fear or pity, but with the calm certainty of a man who had seen suffering and carried it with him. Slowly, he walked around the circle until he stood before her. “I see the way you shrink from our eyes,” Moses said, his voice carrying gently across the gathering. “I know that weight, child. Once, I too was cast into water because the world said I had no place. I was set adrift in a river, abandoned before I even knew my name. But the Lord carried me through the waters. He brought me not to death, but to life. Not to rejection, but to purpose.”
Nina looked up at him, wide-eyed. The words struck a chord deep within her, like he had peeled back her heart and spoken to the wound inside. “You believe you are a mistake,” Moses continued, his eyes unwavering. “But you are not. You were formed in hardship, yes. You carry scars, yes. But every breath you take—whether in water or in air—is proof that you were not abandoned. You were delivered here, to this place, to us. And that is no accident.”
Tears brimmed in Nina’s eyes. She bowed her head, pressing her palms against her knees to keep from trembling. Moses leaned closer, his voice dropping to something softer, meant only for her. “The world may call you a monster, but I tell you: you are chosen. Not because you are flawless, but because you endured. And here, among the forgotten, you will no longer be alone.”
The circle was silent. Only the fire crackled, only the distant lapping of the lagoon filled the air. Slowly, Nina drew a shaky breath—not the desperate gulp of someone drowning, but the steady inhale of someone beginning to live. She looked around the fire at the faces watching her—Elphaba with her steady eyes, Nimona with her teasing grin, Varian with his awkward, hopeful smile, the trolls glowing softly in the dark, and Loki smirking faintly as though he knew all along she would stay. For the first time since she left her father’s house, Nina Mazursky felt like she belonged.