The sky burned red, fading into violet as the sun sank behind the distant peaks. Everything was solemn. The wind had quieted. Not even the trees dared to move. Only the faint drumming echoed across the frozen ocean like distant war beats rolling through the silence. Beneath the ice, the clear water began to cloud, darkening into an inky black screen.The Birds scattered from the cliffs, their shrill cries slicing through the stillness, as if they sensed something no one else could.
Suddenly, a sharp thud shocked the calm nature as if it was the calm before a storm. ice shattered into a thousand pieces like glass beneath a hammer. From the dark water below, a gleaming spear shot upward, sparkling in the fading rays of the sun. Then came the beings of the sea.
Sirens...
The unearthly beings rose with shimmery tails that glistened in the light, breathtaking and otherworldly. But their beauty was shadowed by fear. The pounding behind them grew louder, driving them to scramble onto the nearest slabs of ice. Panic was etched across their faces as they clutched their children.Some were unconscious, others were barely breathing. Some of their skin slowly turned blue from something ominous. A few of the sirens had glowing blue markings engraved across their backs,forming a delicate flower that bled faintly as they moved, slowly creeping up to their faces like spreading veins. Those without the marks cried out in agony as their shimmering tails twisted and reshaped into human legs.The transformation was slow and extremely painful. The marked sirens and their marked children drifted in and out of consciousness, too weak to change forms and helpless as the cold crept in and the danger drew near.
The sound of marching men grew closer while the soft gallops of horses over the ice intensified. The growls of the ravenous humans grew heavier and eventually nearer. The sirens who had gained their legs rose with trembling hands which held their spears, standing their ground to defend their people even though they knew, deep down, it would all be in vain. But their dignity would not let them surrender. One of them, a regal figure lifted a young, unconscious boy in her arms. He was a siren who had not yet transformed. His skin was pale and his long silver hair veiled an ethereal face adorned with delicate jewels near the corners of his eyes making him look like something from another world. He appeared no older than fourteen or fifteen. His long eyelashes fluttered in the cold wind as the water around him began to freeze, soft crystals forming on his eye lashes. The siren cradled him gently before turning to another behind her. "Protect my son… our prince. Mephilia, go to the far north, far from these barbarians. Protect him." Tears welled in Mephilia's eyes as she knelt. "Yes, Your Majesty. I will protect our prince with my life. I give you my word to you and to all the people of Drialis that I will guard him with all my strength and soul." The queen pressed one final kiss to her son's forehead before tearing a green crystal pendant from her neck and tying it around the boy's thin wrist. With that, she turned away, leaving her son in Mephilia's trembling arms. Taking up her spear, the queen stepped forward, standing before the approaching horde whose laughter rang out across the ice like the howls of starving wolves. Her eyes burned with tears,not of sorrow, but of fury. She and her soldiers stood together, ready to give everything. Mephilia, with tears streaking her face and the prince held tightly in her arms, turned her back on the scene and ran toward the dense pine forest beyond where only silence awaited.
The queen and her soldiers charged toward the approaching barbarians. In a swift, fluid motion their spears transformed into swords.The blades which were forged of magical ice, shimmered like a deadly gem in the fading light. With fury burning in their eyes, they surged forward. The barbarians, far greater in number, grinned with anticipation but they underestimated the wrath of the sirens. One siren was said to be as strong as ten men and in this battle, the saying rang true.
The ice blades slashed through thick barbarian flesh mercilessly. The sirens cut them down one by one yet the waves of enemies kept coming, a flood of roaring, ravenous men. The icy battlefield was soon drenched in crimson as siren blades danced through the enemy ranks. Their war cry a piercing scream rattled the air and deafened many, striking terror into those who had never heard a siren's fury.
They fought like those with nothing left to lose, and perhaps they didn't. They were avenging their children, their fallen and their shattered kingdom. But then, tragedy struck. One siren was dragged away by a swarm of barbarians. The sirens, known for their fierce sisterhood, would never let one of their own be defiled. With a cry of rage, they stormed after her, slaughtering her captors before they could lay hands on her but it was too late. She had suffered mortal wounds and died before she could be saved.
The queen caught the dying soldier in her arms and let out a scream so piercing and full of sorrow which seemed to shake the very ice beneath them. Around her, sirens began to fall limp and broken onto the frozen sea. Their blood was still warm and it painted the cold ground Scarlette red. Cries of pain and mourning rang across the battlefield as more sisters fell, and yet they kept fighting.
The queen looked around, watching her sisters fall one by one to the ravenous warriors. Her chest tightened, her eyes swelling with both anger and sorrow. Everywhere she turned, her empire the proud realm of Drialis was being devoured by the hands of barbarians.
She felt the ice beneath her crack, trembling like a dying heartbeat as a snowstorm began to sweep across the battlefield. The wind howled, flinging sharp flakes against her face until her tears froze on her cheeks. Covered in snow, she tightened her grip on the icy hilt of her sword with trembling hands and let out a raw, piercing scream.
With a final surge of fury, she charged into the crowd of barbarians. Her blade cut through flesh, warm blood splashing against her face and trailing across the once-pristine snow, painting it a deep, scarlet red. The screams of the dying mingled with her own cry as she tore through the horde. Her hands trembled, her breath grew ragged, and still she struck down any man in her path. Her bare feet slipped on the blood-slick ice, cut and bleeding, but she no longer felt the pain only the weight of despair and the fire of defiance driving her forward.
Eventually their queen was seized. A towering barbarian, the leader of the horde, grabbed her with hands filled with lust and violence. His grip tightened as he tried to overpower her, but she twisted free, grabbed a fallen sword, and drove the blade clean through his neck. His eyes widened in shock as his severed head hit the frozen ground with steam rising from his severed head.
But it was only a moment of mirage victory. The queen was immediately surrounded by the barbarians. She saw her people dying around her. She knew there was no way out. Sirens...every last one of them valued their dignity above life. And the queen of the sea would never surrender to the foul hands of men who had razed her home.
With tears streaming down her face, she raised the sword and, with one final breath, drove the blade across her own throat. Her blood sprayed across the barbarian horde and as it touched them, their skin began to burn. The blood of a siren queen was no ordinary blood.It carried the wrath of the ocean and the curse of the unbroken dignity. Her limp body sank with the ice into the black waters below, leaving only crimson ripples to mark the fall of the last queen of Drialis.