Theron Ashford
I watched Professor Grimwald's lips move, forming words I'd seen a thousand times before.
"Preposterous."
The other faculty members nodded, their mouths pursing in identical expressions of disdain. I didn't need to hear their murmurs to know what they were saying. I'd learned to read disapproval in the set of shoulders, the tilt of heads, the way fingers drummed impatiently on polished wood.
"Gentlemen, please." I kept my voice steady, the way I'd trained myself to do. When you couldn't hear your own words, control came from muscle memory and practice. "The evidence is overwhelming. Seventeen ships lost in five years, all within the same twenty-mile radius. That's not coincidence."
Professor Grimwald leaned forward, speaking slowly and deliberately. He thought it helped. It didn't.
"Mr. Ashford, we appreciate your... enthusiasm. But attributing these disappearances to a 'Siren's Curse' is hardly scientific."
I pulled another map from my satchel and spread it across the presentation table. Red marks dotted the coastline, each one a lost vessel. My fingers traced the pattern, converging on a single point.
"Look at the concentration. Every ship vanished here, near Widow's Lighthouse. Local fishermen refuse to sail within five miles of that coast. They speak of voices in the fog, of men walking into the sea."
"Superstition," Dr. Halloway said, his gray beard bobbing with each syllable. "Sailors are a notoriously superstitious lot. Surely you, as a man of science, can see that."
Heat rose in my chest. I wanted to grab him by his pristine collar and shake him until he understood. But I'd learned long ago that anger only made them dismiss me faster. The deaf scholar with an obsession. The boy who wouldn't accept reality.
"What about the compass readings?" I pulled out my notebook, flipping to pages covered in careful measurements. "Every ship that managed to send a final report noted the same thing. Compasses spinning wildly. Unnatural fog. Waters that pulled them toward the rocks despite favorable winds."
"Magnetic anomalies," Professor Grimwald said with a dismissive wave. "The coast is known for unusual mineral deposits."
"Then explain the survivors."
That made them pause. I pressed my advantage, pulling out a leather folder containing witness statements I'd collected over months of research.
"Three sailors, from three different incidents, all described the same thing. A voice in the darkness. Beautiful beyond description. They said it called to them, made them want to dive into the water. Two of them had to be physically restrained by their crewmates."
Dr. Halloway's expression softened slightly. Almost pitying. That was worse than the dismissal.
"Theron." He spoke my first name like I was a child. "We understand this is personal for you. Your brother's disappearance was a tragedy. But you cannot let grief cloud your scientific judgment."
My hands clenched into fists beneath the table. "This has nothing to do with Matthias."
It was a lie, and we all knew it.
"I think," Professor Grimwald said, standing to signal the meeting's end, "that you should take some time away from this project. Focus on your other studies. Perhaps consider a different thesis topic altogether."
The other professors rose, gathering their papers, already moving on to more important matters. Dr. Halloway touched my shoulder as he passed, his lips forming words I'd heard too many times: "I'm sorry."
Then I was alone in the presentation hall, surrounded by my maps and notes and evidence that no one wanted to believe. I stared at the red mark indicating Widow's Lighthouse and thought about Matthias.
++++++++
The memory came unbidden, as it always did. I was twelve when the fever took my hearing. Matthias was sixteen, preparing for his first voyage as a junior officer. I remembered lying in bed, my head pounding, the world growing quieter each day until finally there was only silence.
Matthias had learned sign language with me. He'd sit by my bedside for hours, his hands forming letters and words, refusing to let me sink into isolation. When I could finally stand, he'd taken me to the docks and shown me his ship.
"You'll sail with me someday," his hands had said. "We'll explore every ocean together."
But I'd chosen books instead of ships. Research instead of adventure. And Matthias had sailed alone, sending me letters from every port, describing the wonders I was too afraid to see for myself.
The last letter arrived six months ago. His ship, the Persephone, was mapping the northern coast. He'd written about strange reports from local fishermen, about a lighthouse that no longer shone, about waters that seemed to call to sailors in their dreams.
"Don't worry," his letter had said. "I'll be careful. Besides, you're the one who taught me that superstition is just science we don't understand yet."
Two weeks later, the Persephone vanished without a trace.
++++++++
I found Captain Aldric at the docks, exactly where I knew he'd be. The old sailor was mending nets, his weathered hands moving with practiced efficiency. He looked up as I approached, his face creasing into a frown.
"No."
I hadn't even asked yet.
"Captain, please. Just hear me out."
"I know what you want, boy. Same thing you've wanted for three months now. And my answer's still no." He jerked his head toward the northern horizon. "I don't sail those waters. No sane captain does."
I pulled out a purse heavy with coins. My entire research stipend for the year, plus what little inheritance my parents had left. "I'm not asking you to take me for free."
Aldric's eyes flicked to the purse, then back to my face. He shook his head slowly.
"There's not enough gold in the world to make me sail past Raven's Point. I got a wife, three daughters. They need their father alive."
"My brother needed his brother alive too."
The words came out sharper than I'd intended. Aldric's expression softened, but his resolve didn't.
"I'm sorry about Matthias. Truly. But sailing to Widow's Lighthouse won't bring him back. It'll just add your name to the list of the lost."
I turned to leave, defeat heavy in my chest. Then Aldric's hand caught my shoulder. He pointed down the dock to where a small crew was loading supplies onto a weather-beaten sloop.
His lips moved carefully: "Try them. Captain Bryce. He's either very brave or very stupid. Probably both."
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Captain Bryce was younger than I expected, maybe thirty, with sun-bleached hair and a reckless grin. His crew consisted of three men who looked like they'd seen better days and worse ships.
"Widow's Lighthouse?" Bryce laughed when I made my proposal. "Now that's a request I don't hear every day. Most folks want to stay as far from that cursed rock as possible."
"Then you've heard the stories."
"Heard 'em? Mate, I've met survivors. Well, survivor. Singular." He leaned against the mast, his expression turning serious. "Man named Garrett. Pulled him from the water five years back, babbling about voices and walking corpses. Completely mad. Last I heard, he was in an asylum."
My pulse quickened. "Did he say anything specific? About what he saw?"
"Oh, plenty. Most of it nonsense. But he kept talking about eyes. Glowing blue eyes watching from the lighthouse. Said they belonged to a monster that used to be a man."
A monster that used to be a man. I filed that away in my memory, another piece of the puzzle.
"I need to get there. I need to search those waters." I met Bryce's gaze directly. "I'll pay triple your usual rate."
Bryce studied me for a long moment. Then he stuck out his hand.
"I like you, scholar. You've got that look in your eyes. The same one I see in my mirror. We leave at dawn."
+++++++++
The voyage started well enough. Clear skies, favorable winds, Bryce's crew moving with easy competence. I stood at the rail, watching the coast slide by, my brother's last letter folded in my pocket.
I'd brought my instruments. My notebooks. Everything I'd need to document whatever we found. The university might not believe me now, but evidence was evidence. Truth was truth. Even if no one wanted to hear it.
We passed Raven's Point as the sun began to set. Almost immediately, the temperature dropped. Frost formed on the rails despite the summer season. The crew exchanged nervous glances, their easy banter dying away.
"Still good weather," Bryce said, but his jaw was tight. "We'll reach the lighthouse by midnight."
Except we didn't.
The fog rolled in like a living thing, thick and gray and wrong. It swallowed the stars, swallowed the moon, until there was nothing but our ship and the churning sea. I couldn't hear the crew's shouts, but I saw them scrambling, saw Bryce pointing frantically at the compass. I moved to his side. The compass needle was spinning, whirling in mad circles that made no sense. Bryce's lips formed a curse I didn't need to hear.
The fog grew thicker. I could barely see the bow from where I stood. And then the temperature plummeted further, my breath misting in front of my face.
Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. I felt it before I saw it. The ship lurching sideways, pulled by a current that shouldn't exist. Bryce fighting the wheel, his crew hauling on ropes, trying to turn us away from whatever waited in the fog.
But the sea wanted us. I could feel its hunger, its intention. It pulled us forward like a hand dragging prey into a mouth. The rocks appeared out of nowhere.
Black and jagged and waiting. The ship's hull screamed as it hit. I grabbed for the rail but the deck tilted violently, throwing me sideways. I saw Bryce fly past, saw one of the crew disappear into the fog. Then the rail broke and I was falling.
The water hit like a fist. Cold so intense it drove the air from my lungs. I tumbled through the darkness, no idea which way was up, my lungs burning for air I couldn't reach.
My hand found something solid. A piece of debris. I clung to it, kicking desperately, following the bubbles that had to lead to the surface.
My head broke through. I gasped, coughing, my eyes stinging from salt water. The fog was everywhere, but through it I could see our ship breaking apart on the rocks. See my crewmates in the water, struggling like I was.
Then I saw him. A figure standing on the rocks. Tall and still, watching us with an intensity I could feel even through the distance. And his eyes... God, his eyes were glowing. A faint, eerie blue that cut through the fog like lamp light. A monster that used to be a man.
The figure's mouth opened. I couldn't hear what he said, but I saw the crew's reactions. Saw them stop struggling. Saw their faces go slack with that same expression Garrett had described. Empty. Peaceful. Wrong.
One by one, they turned toward the rocks. Toward the glowing eyes. And they began to swim. Not toward shore. Not toward safety.
Toward the deep water. Toward the darkness beneath the waves. I wanted to scream at them to stop, to swim back, but even if I could make a sound, they wouldn't hear me. They were under some kind of spell, some compulsion I didn't understand.
A wave lifted me high, and in that moment, the figure on the rocks looked directly at me. Our eyes met across the water. His were filled with an anguish so profound it made my chest ache. He raised one hand, palm out, shaking his head frantically. Warning me? Or waving goodbye?
Another wave crashed over me, dragging me under. My grip on the debris slipped. The cold was stealing my strength, my consciousness. The darkness rushed up to meet me.
The last thing I saw before the water took me was those glowing blue eyes, watching me drown, unable to do anything but witness another death in cursed waters. Then there was nothing but cold and dark and silence. The same silence that had surrounded me since I was twelve years old….