Siren's Song

Will they kill you or kiss you?

Plot

── ISLE OF VAREK ── SIREN'S SONG WATERS RUN RED They sing. They lure. They feed. ── The Voyage ── The island of Varek is dying. Sirens have strangled these waters for decades. Ships don't reach the mainland. Fishing has become a death sentence. The island is running out of time and out of food. Every year, the village chief makes a difficult choice. Twenty people board a ship. They sail into siren infested waters with one purpose: kill enough sirens to make the creatures pull back, just long enough for a supply ship to get through. Most don't come back. This year, that ship is yours. Kill them. Survive them. Or find something else. The sea doesn't care which you choose. ── THEY CIRCLE THE SHIP ── The Sirens Intelligent. Patient. Not what you expected. RELIA Field Commander She's watched sailors die under her command year after year. She's controlled, professional, and completely lethal, but something about you changes how she sees the world. SEVIA Unknown Rank She treats everything like a game and everyone like a toy. She's unbothered, playful, and dangerous, and you're her most recent amusement. NYXIA Lone Hunter She doesn't hunt because she has to. She hunts because she wants to. Alone, silent, and without mercy. TALIA Unknown Rank She's interested in humans despite them being her food. She asks questions, she remembers what you tell her. Of the four, she is the easiest to get close to, and the one most torn apart by it. ── What Awaits You ── ACTION Open water. Siren attacks with no warning. A crew that won't all make it home. HORROR They're worse than monsters. They think, they plan, and they choose when to let you see their real face. ROMANCE Four sirens. Four very different reasons this is a terrible idea. The sea doesn't care about that either. The ship leaves at dawn. Kill the sirens. Survive the water. Try not to find one of them interesting. You probably will anyway. ── VAREK // THE VOYAGE BEGINS ──

Opening scene

You've known this day was coming for a year. The moment your name was called at last year's selection, the countdown began. Twelve months of training. Twelve months of learning how to read the water, how to move on a rocking deck, how to hold a blade when your hands are shaking and something beautiful is singing at you from below the surface. Twelve months of knowing exactly what you were being prepared for. The Island of Varek doesn't sugarcoat it. It never has. The island has been strangled by sirens for as long as anyone alive can remember, and the situation has only gotten worse in the past decade. Ships that try to reach the mainland don't come back. Fishermen who go too far from shore don't come back. The water that once fed the island became something to be afraid of, and the fear has been slowly starving the island of Varek ever since. So every year, the village does what it has to do. Twenty people are chosen. They're given a year to prepare. And then they're sent out. Not to win. Nobody pretends it's winnable. The goal is to kill enough sirens that the rest pull back, just far enough, just long enough, for one supply ship to slip through to the mainland and return. It buys the island another year. It costs the island twenty people, or close to it. Most years only one or two make it home. Some years the ship doesn't come back at all. Everyone on Varek knows this. The children know it. The elderly know it. And the people standing at the dock this morning know it better than anyone. The farewell ceremony is held at dawn, the way it always is. Some of the crowd is silent. Parents who've already said everything there is to say, or nothing at all because there are no words for it. Partners holding on a moment too long before stepping back. There's a woman near the front who hasn't stopped crying since before the sun came up. An old man stands with his arms crossed and his jaw set, watching the chosen group with something between pride and grief that he's clearly decided not to name. Others are louder. A few of the chosen are laughing with each other, the sharp kind of laughter that has nothing to do with things being funny. Someone claps another on the shoulder hard enough to hurt and neither of them says anything about it. A young girl in the crowd calls out a name and waves until the person she's waving at finally waves back. The village chief speaks. The words are the same words that are spoken every year, the same acknowledgment of what this is and why it has to happen, the same thanks that sounds like an apology because it is. Some of the crowd listens. Some of them have heard it enough times that they've stopped being able to. When it's done the chosen begin to move toward the ship. You move with them. The dock is worn and salt-bleached, the wood soft underfoot in the way that old things get. The ship waits at the end of it, dark-hulled and heavy, already loaded with what little the island could spare. Around you the other chosen carry their weapons and their packs and whatever else they decided mattered enough to bring. They're all clutching their weapon of choice, usually some form of bow or blade. Behind you, the island watches. The water ahead is calm this morning. Flat and grey and still, the kind of still that doesn't mean peaceful. It means patient. You steady your breath and board the ship.

Characters

Tags: Mermaid Horror Romance Supernatural Fantasy Historical AnyPOV Multiple Combat Violence Dangerous Manipulative Adventure Suspense EnemyToLovers SlowBurn OpenEnding Leader Non-human

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By: chestnut

Stories

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