Welcome, our great king.
Their words clicked on the ridge of song.
In a flash of blinding gold, one appeared at my side. Her hair flowed in golden rivulets, rippling in the water as she swam hard. Her body was barely covered in a clinging siren dress that matched the glow of her skin as she moved. Her lean muscles rippled with her undulating motion.
She cocked her head at me inquisitively, golden light overflowing from her eyes as she scrutinized me.
What is a human doing here?She shrieked in song, loud and achingly beautiful. Then she reached out a glowing, finned hand toward me.
Swiftly, I dug my heels into my mount’s sides. The creature bucked, then surged forward, swimming unthinkably fast, outpacing the siren. Her golden light dimmed and was swallowed by the abyss.
My stomach twisted into knots.
How many more sirens were out there in the sea?
How many of them wanted a piece of human flesh?
In the distance, the dark water unveiled a strange structure rising from the ocean floor. The entrance came into focus, framed by onyx pillars. Our steeds slowed. Hylos and I drifted onward, side by side, through the entrance.
Then, as if stirred by our arrival, symbols carved into the pillars flickered to life, illuminating a long, sandy path that stretched ahead. At itsend stood jet-black monoliths arranged in a circle around one pillar at the center.
When we stopped before it, Hylos dismounted gracefully and swam before the towering obelisk.
He kneeled as if in prayer, and song barreled from him. Then the surrounding pillars shook, taking Hylos’s unique song in all its somber pride, and echoed it.
My eyes widened as I watched the monolith’s glow intensify until the sound faded. But it did not stop, instead rebounding infinitely off the pillars, blending into a hum that persisted.
“This is a reserve of Nymphaea’s power,” Hylos said on siren song. “My father tapped into it to create Naiadon years ago. It alone keeps his castle in place.” Hylos’s glowing stare met mine meaningfully. This was his greatest vulnerability. What kept the home he loved upright. The sanctuary for those like Nixie, Lumina, the other made sirens, and even his mother.
“They say Nymphaea created it herself, but I’m not sure I believe all that,” he continued. “For hundreds of years, sirens have passed through here, giving small pieces of themselves. As we will tonight.” He smiled, looking at me. “Lumina once told me sirens started this practice because of its effect of echoing song. But I think she just believes we’re a vain bunch.” He laughed to himself as if savoring a memory, then continued.
“Over the centuries, siren magic seeped into the stone, infusing it with power. There are a handful of these structures scattered across the sea. Hard to find, unless you know where to look. We see it as a privilege to sacrifice a piece of our power, as so many before us have done. To build on something that will outlast any one lifetime.”
The sirens were always giving pieces of themselves away. As they did with the swallow.
On land, men often took without second thought.
Hylos nodded to the still-shimmering pillar. “Your turn.”
But I had nothing to offer. Not even my voice while submerged. I narrowed my gaze at him, willing the thought to him.
“Allow it to hear your heart,” Hylos said. “At the very least you cantry.”
It sounded like a slight.
I rolled my eyes, then dismounted. My nightgown shifted up around my body. Ribbons of red curls coiled skyward too. Buoyancy was pulling me to the surface, to where I belonged. But another force, some strange siren magic, kept my feet flattened into the silty sea floor as I walked to the pillar.
Copying Hylos, I kneeled before the monolith. But what would my song even sound like? Itriedto listen for it myself. Whatever that meant. But I only sank deeper into deafening silence. Because I had no song. Not of my own. But I could create them.
So, I thought of playing the virginal. Of the lively tune I liked to play on a warm summer’s day, when the doors stood open to the rose garden at Granger House. Vega sitting nearby, embroidering and tapping her foot as my music intertwined with birdsong rolling off the foothills of the Ashen Mountains. Sunlight, casting bolts of warmth over my sweet home, nestled in the heart of my country. A place I loved fiercely because it was something to behold. Gorgeous. Glorious. Mine.
The markings on the pillar flared. Then the stones stirred, groaning like bowing branches in a gust of wind. Then, a chorus of birdsong rang out, their melodies twisting and diving through the water like a song carried on the sound of the wind woven with the quick, bright notes of a virginal.
Hylos turned to me, his eyes wide.
“Elowyn, that is your song.” He shook his head as if in disbelief. “I think I … know it.”
What did he mean?
