The Mermaids of Baños

The Sisters of the Waterfall

Long before Baños became a haven for travelers and adventurers, there was a small wooden house perched near the banks of the Pastaza River, just beyond the roar of the Pailón del Diablo waterfall. It was there that Lucía and Valeria grew up, two sisters as different as night and day.

Lucía was wild, always disappearing into the jungle, climbing trees, and leaping fearlessly into the river’s embrace. She had a laugh that echoed through the hills, a spirit too restless for the quiet life their mother, Doña Rosa, had hoped for.

Valeria, on the other hand, was gentle and introspective, drawn to the way the water shimmered at dawn, its surface reflecting the sky’s endless expanse. She was the one who listened to the old stories, the one who heard the river’s whispers even when others did not.

"You must never go beyond the waterfall," their mother warned them, her voice tinged with an unease she never fully explained. "The river is alive. It remembers everything."

Lucía would always laugh. "It’s just water, Mama."

But Valeria wasn’t so sure.

One summer night, under a full moon that bathed the valley in silver, Lucía convinced Valeria to sneak out for a midnight swim. "Just this once," Lucía promised, pulling her sister toward the riverbank. "The water is warm at night. It’ll be magic."

And it was.

The river that night was unlike anything they had ever seen. It glowed softly, as if the stars themselves had fallen into the depths. Strange golden fish darted beneath the surface, their scales flashing like tiny suns. The water wrapped around their bodies with an unnatural gentleness, the current pulling them forward, deeper into the unknown.

Then, the singing began.

It was faint at first—a delicate hum, carried on the breeze, slipping through the mist that clung to the river’s edge. The melody was haunting, both sorrowful and seductive, like a lullaby meant for lost souls.

Valeria stopped swimming. "Lucía… do you hear that?"

Lucía, entranced, didn’t answer. She was already swimming toward the sound.

And then, the current turned violent.

Valeria screamed as an invisible force dragged them toward the waterfall, the once-gentle river suddenly a living thing, twisting and pulling with a hunger she could not fight. She reached for Lucía, but her sister was already slipping beneath the surface, her form blurring into the dark water.

The last thing Valeria saw before the river took her was the moon above—a perfect, unblinking eye, watching as the water closed over them both.

Transformation Under the Moon

Days passed. Then weeks.

Doña Rosa searched tirelessly, calling their names into the endless green of the jungle, her voice hoarse with grief. The people of Baños joined her at first, but as time wore on, their voices faded.

The sisters were gone.

But the river had changed.

It began with whispers—fishermen claiming to hear voices rising from the mist, soft and sorrowful. Then came the sightings. Travelers spoke of figures with gleaming scales, watching from the shadows of the waterfalls. Some saw only their eyes, glowing like fireflies in the night. Others swore they heard their names whispered in the rush of the current.

One night, Don Esteban, an old traveler making his way through Baños, saw them with his own eyes.

He had been resting near the Pastaza River, the full moon turning the water into silver silk. As he leaned down to refill his flask, he saw a woman sitting on a rock, her long, dark hair dripping onto the stone. Her back was bare, smooth as polished river stones, but where her legs should have been, there was something else.

Scales.

Shimmering, iridescent, moving with the pulse of the water.

She turned her head, and for the briefest moment, Don Esteban saw eyes he recognized—eyes filled with longing and sorrow.

"You know who I am," she whispered.

And then, she was gone.

The river swallowed her whole.

The Curse of the Lovers

Among the many who heard the legend, one man refused to believe it.

His name was Mateo, a fisherman born and raised in Baños, whose heart had always belonged to the Pastaza River. He had fished its waters since he was a boy, learning its moods, respecting its power.

But one evening, as he stood casting his net beneath the Cascada de Agoyán, he saw her.

She was half-hidden beneath the mist, her dark hair fanned out on the water like floating petals. Her lips moved, forming a melody that wrapped around his soul and squeezed.

And he fell in love.

Every night, Mateo returned, speaking softly to the river, whispering words of devotion. And eventually, she answered.

"You should not be here," she warned.

"But I love you," Mateo whispered.

A deep sadness flickered in her eyes. "Love cannot save me."

But Mateo refused to accept it. He sought out Madre Tomasa, the old healer, who told him of a spell that might break the curse.

"If you wish to free her, you must steal a drop of water from the heart of the waterfall at midnight and drink it under the moon."

Determined, Mateo climbed the cliffs above Pailón del Diablo, feeling the roar of the water vibrate in his bones. He reached for the enchanted drop—

And the river rebelled.

Lightning cracked the sky. The waters rose in fury, and from the depths, two figures emerged.

Lucía and Valeria.

Their eyes burned like stars, their hands reaching for him. "You should have left," they whispered.

The next morning, Mateo’s boat was found adrift on the riverbank. His footprints vanished at the water’s edge.

The River’s Guardians

The story does not end.

Even now, the mermaids of Baños linger. Some say they protect the rivers, watching over the water that gave them new life. Others believe they wait for lost souls, calling them home.

And when the moon is full, the river glows, as if remembering them.

Perhaps, if you listen closely, you will hear them too—the voices of the river, singing through the mist.

But beware.

Once the river calls your name, it never forgets.