The sea never stopped whispering.
Beneath the waves, voices tangled—lost sailors, drowned queens, and forgotten gods murmured as though the ocean itself carried memory. Serenya had listened to those voices all her life, a child of the tide, until the whispers changed. No longer lullabies or laments, but a single, insistent word: Come.
So she rose.
Her head broke the surface, hair spilling like ink across moonlight. Salt clung to her lips. The shore stretched before her, pale sand bleeding into jagged rocks, a world she had only glimpsed in dreams. Each breath of mortal air burned strange in her chest, heavy and sweet with earth's scent.
Serenya's feet touched sand for the first time. It crumbled beneath her toes, rougher than the softness of tide. She laughed softly, surprised at herself. So this is land. Hard, stubborn, nothing like water at all.
A sound startled her—clattering wood, snapping rope. She turned to see a man staggering up the beach, dragging a splintered piece of wreckage. His clothes clung to him, torn and dripping, and his face was pale with exhaustion.
A survivor.
Serenya tilted her head, silver eyes reflecting the moonlight. She had seen men before, drifting lifeless into her reef, but never one alive this close. He collapsed to his knees, panting. His gaze lifted—and met hers.
He froze.
Serenya smiled, slow and deliberate, stepping closer until the water beaded on her skin. "You look half-dead," she murmured, voice soft as tide over stone. "Should I finish the work… or save you?"
The man stared, torn between fear and awe. His lips parted, but no words came.
She crouched, tilting her head. The sea still roared in her ears, but now she wanted to hear him. With a playful spark in her tone, she added:
"Careful, sailor. I've been told my kind has a taste for mortal men. Do you think I'd prefer your heart… or your lips?"
The man shuddered, gripping the wreckage tighter. "You… you're a siren."
Her smile widened. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I'm just a lonely woman who's never been kissed."
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath—the sea behind her, the trembling mortal before her. Serenya felt something stir in her chest, an ache she hadn't expected. She wanted to laugh, to tease him further. But she also wanted, desperately, not to be alone.
"Stand," she said at last, holding out her hand. "Or you'll drown before you even reach land."
He stared at her hand, wary. Then, reluctantly, his rough palm touched hers. His weight dragged at her, heavier than she expected. On instinct, she tried to call the tide to lift him—waves that would cradle him ashore like a babe.
Nothing came.
Her song caught in her throat, breaking into silence. The sea, her oldest companion, did not bend to her will. The tide lapped at her ankles, indifferent.
For the first time, fear pricked her chest.
The man noticed. He blinked at her, breath ragged, and whispered, "You can't, can you? Not here."
Serenya's silver eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"You spirits…" he coughed, spitting seawater, "…you're weaker on land. That's why you lure us back to sea. That's where your power lies."
Her grip tightened. Weak on land? She wanted to deny it, but the evidence was cruelly plain. The sea refused her. Her song faltered. She felt naked, exposed, mortal.
And yet—this man saw it. And he lived.
Serenya leaned close, her lips near his ear, letting her words curl like silk. "Then you're very bold, sailor. Bold enough to know my secret. Bold enough that I should kill you."
His breath hitched, but his gaze did not waver. "Then why don't you?"
For a moment, she almost did. A note rose in her throat, trembling with the urge to unravel him with song. But her voice cracked again, fragile and uncertain, betraying her.
Instead, she laughed—low and sharp. "Because I find you entertaining."
And because, though she would not admit it, she needed him.
The man stumbled forward, still leaning on the wreckage, until both stood fully on the sand. He wiped water from his face and finally spoke, voice rough as stone dragged over rope.
"My name is Kael."
"Serenya," she said simply.
They stood in silence, moonlight stretching their shadows across the sand. In the distance, waves hissed against rocks, and gulls cried faintly as if mocking the stillness.
Finally, Kael asked, "What do you want, spirit?"
Serenya considered him, her lips curving with quiet amusement. "Want?" She let the word linger, tasting it. "That depends. Tonight, perhaps I only want your company. Tomorrow… perhaps your world."
His expression hardened, but he did not step back. "Then you'd best learn to walk it. The land doesn't bow to sirens."
Her eyes glimmered like silver fire. "Then let it learn my song."
Above them, thunder rolled far out at sea, as if answering her challenge.
And so it began