A cold, heavy mist rolled in, swallowing the sea and muffling the boisterous laughter of the Barbarian pirates. Below deck, they were lost in a sea of gold and jewels, the flickering lantern light glinting off the stolen treasure. They bragged and laughed, their voices thick with ale and the memory of their latest raid. "Did you hear 'em scream?" one bellowed, a gap-toothed grin on his face. "Like little piglets!"
Then, a sudden stillness fell. The rocking of the ship ceased. The water, usually a tumultuous mess, became as smooth as glass. The fog closed in, thick and suffocating, until the world was nothing but a white-gray haze. A low hum started, echoing in their ears, a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was a tune of dread that seeped into their bones, chilling them far more than any sea spray. The cold wasn't just on the skin-it was in the blood, the kind of cold that promises death.
A high-pitched scream cut through the humming singing from the upper deck.
"Intruders!" roared the captain.
The Barbarian's pirates scrambled up the stairs, leaving their loot behind. They emerged into the thick fog, their hands on their weapons, their eyes wide and searching. Footsteps scraped against the wooden deck. Out of the swirling mist, a lone figure emerged. He looked like any other pirate: a weathered coat, a worn eye patch, a scruffy beard.
Without thinking, one of the Barbarians lunged, his cutlass flashing. It went straight through the man's chest. But instead of blood, there was a strange shimmer. The ghostly figure smirked, and the illusion of flesh melted away, revealing a skeletal form wrapped in tattered clothes, a cold, empty stare where eyes should have been. The Barbarian, now trembling with fear, dropped his weapon with a clatter.
From the impenetrable fog, other ghostly figures appeared, their laughter a hollow echo. A leader stepped forward, his spectral form more solid than the rest. He pointed a translucent finger at the panicked crew.
"Get 'em," the spectral leader commanded, his voice a low, echoing rumble.
The ghosts lunged, their movements silent as they melted through the thick fog. A Barbarian pirate swung his cutlass, but it passed harmlessly through a ghost's torso. The phantom, a grin spreading across its decayed face, delivered a solid, bone-chilling punch to the pirate's gut, sending him staggering back.
"They're not real! But they hit like a ton of bricks!" the Barbarian captain screamed, his voice laced with terror. "What are they? What do you want?"
"What we want?" the leader's voice echoed through the eerie silence, his form solidifying slightly. "We want what you have, Barbarian. And we want what you took."
"We didn't take anything from you!" another pirate yelled, parrying a blow from a spectral blade that seemed to be made of pure cold.
The leader let out a hollow laugh. "Oh, but you did. That treasure you were so busy counting? It was ours. It was on that merchant ship you so gleefully sank, the one where you 'heard 'em scream like little piglets.' You stole from the dead, and the dead have come to collect."
"That was just a merchant ship! There were no ghosts on it!" the Barbarian captain retorted, his face pale as he backed away from a grinning specter.
"We weren't on it, you fool," the ghost captain said, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "We were it. We've been sailing these waters for two hundred years, and we've been waiting for a crew as greedy as yours. You've brought us our treasure back, and for that, we thank you."
With that, the ghosts renewed their attack, their forms shimmering and solidifying at will, their taunts now echoing with a cruel purpose. "Time to pay up!" one ghost snarled as it pinned a pirate against the mast. "This isn't just about the gold," another whispered, its face inches from a terrified Barbarian's. "It's about the screams. We like the screams."
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit cabin aboard the ghostly vessel, Kaelen, a young man with sandy blonde hair, sat hunched over a parchment, a quill scratching furiously in his hand. He was the sole living human on the ghost ship, a strange and lonely existence. The distant, terrified screams of the Barbarian pirates were a familiar soundtrack, one he had grown to ignore. To him, they were just background noise, a useful tool for the spirits he now called companions. He was determined to finish his writing, to lose himself in the world he was creating on the page.
But a new sound cut through the air, piercing the screams and the groans of the spectral battle. It was a melody, a voice so pure and hauntingly beautiful that it seemed to be woven from moonlight and seafoam. It was a song that resonated with a profound sorrow and an even deeper power, a sound that drew Kaelen's attention away from his writing. The screams of the Barbarians had ceased, replaced by a sudden, unnatural silence, and the beautiful voice swelled in the stillness. Driven by an unshakeable compulsion, Kaelen left his room, the beautiful singing voice pulling him like a siren's call. He ascended to the main deck of the ghost ship, slipping past the phantoms of his crew locked in a silent, savage battle with the terrified Barbarians.
"Where are you going, Kaelen?" a voice echoed. It was Silas Blackwood, his spectral form noticing Kaelen's deviation from the battle.
"Silas, I heard something," Kaelen said, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene on the Barbarian ship. "A voice, a beautiful one. It's coming from their ship."
Silas listened, then with a nod, he called out to a younger pirate lad. "Barnaby, look after Kaelen," he commanded. "Make sure no harm comes to him."
Barnaby materialized beside Kaelen, confusion clouding his ethereal features. He followed Kaelen across the gangplank to the Barbarian vessel, where the screams had finally died down. The beautiful, sorrowful voice was clearer now.
"What are you looking for?" Barnaby asked, his voice a disembodied whisper. "There's nothing here but the fog and the bodies."
Kaelen stopped, a frown creasing his brow as he looked at the ghost. "You can't hear it?"
"Hear what?" Barnaby said, cocking his head. "I don't hear anything."
Kaelen ignored him, following the sound until he found a heavy wooden door. The voice was coming from inside. He wrenched it open and stepped into what must have been the Barbarian captain's quarters. It was a lavish mess of stolen goods, maps, and weapons, dominated by a massive, custom-built fish tank.
And inside, a siren. Her skin was a deep, dark brown, her eyes wide with a sorrow that matched her song. Her tail and fins were a striking blend of blue and green. She stopped singing as soon as she saw Kaelen, her beautiful face a mask of fear.
"So it was you," Kaelen said, his voice a soft whisper. "It was you I heard."
"A siren?" Barnaby gasped from behind him, his form flickering in shock. "What is a siren doing down here?"
The siren, desperate, slammed her fist against the thick glass, a silent plea for freedom. Kaelen understood instantly. He grabbed a heavy chair and, without a moment's hesitation, raised it high. The siren flinched, backing away from the coming impact.
"Hey, Kael man!" Barnaby yelled, but the sound was already swallowed by the crash. The chair shattered against the tank, spiderweb cracks spreading across the glass. With a groaning sigh, the tank gave way. Water and glass burst outward, flooding the room in a flash.
The commotion, combined with the sudden deluge, was enough to draw the attention of the few remaining Barbarians, who had been hiding in their quarters, hoping to avoid the ghostly conflict. They burst into the room, their eyes widening in shock as they saw Kaelen, soaked and holding the broken remains of the chair, and the shimmering form of Barnaby, standing over the wreckage and the stunned siren.