"I know." The words came out rougher than I intended, scraped raw with an emotion I couldn't quite name. "That's what makes it worse. Knowing she wants to stay, knowing she wants us, and still watching her hesitate. Still watching her pull back."
"She'll come around." Riven's tail lashed through the water, propelling him forward with a burst of speed that I matched easily. "She has to. I can't—" His voice cracked, splintered. "I can't lose her, Kaelan. Not now. Not when I've finally found something worth keeping."
"You won't." I reached out through the bond, sending a pulse of reassurance even as my own heart ached with the same fear."None of us will. That's why we're doing this. That's why we're going to the witch."
The word hung between us, heavy and dark. The witch. Even Riven, who feared nothing and no one, went quiet at the mention of her. We'd dealt with her before. Vale and I had gone just weeks ago, desperate for the swimming potion that would let Lily breathe underwater. The price had been Vale's voice for two days—and the witch had used it well, luring a merchant vessel onto the rocks and feasting on the sailors who followed his stolen song into the deep. Centuries before that, Riven had gone alone, seeking something to ease the pain of his wounds. Thane had never dealt with her—he was too gentle, too soft, and we'd always shielded him from the witch's prices. But those of us who had paid... we'd each learned that dealing with the witch always cost more than you expected, hurt more than you anticipated, left scars that never quite healed.
Now we were going back. Willingly. Eagerly. Because the alternative—losing Lily—was unthinkable. The trench opened before us like a wound in the ocean floor. I felt it before I saw it, a sudden drop in temperature, a shift in the current that made my scales prickle with instinctive unease.
"I hate this." Riven muttered, his voice barely audible above the strange, thrumming pressure that seemed to pulse from the trench itself. "I hate her. I hate that we have to come here, that we have to beg for scraps from that?—"
"Careful." I warned, my voice sharp. "She hears everything that happens in these waters. Everything." Riven's jaw clenched, but he fell silent. His claws extended and retracted in a nervous rhythm, gouging small furrows in the water that healed almost instantly behind him. I could feel his fear through the bond, not of the witch herself, but of what she might ask. What she might take.
We descended into the trench. The pressure was immense, even for us. Then, at the bottom of the trench, we found the witch.
"Come in, little sirens." The voice drifted out of the darkness, ancient and amused and hungry. "I've been expecting you."
I exchanged a glance with Riven. His golden eyes were hard, his jaw set. But beneath the bravado, I could feel his fear—the same fear that was coiling in my own chest, cold and tight and impossible to ignore.
We swam into the cave.
She was waiting for us.
The witch looked different every time I saw her. Sometimes she appeared as a beautiful woman, ageless and alluring. Sometimes she was a crone, bent and withered, her skin hanging from her bones like seaweed from a rock. Sometimes she wasn't human at all—just eyes in the darkness, teeth in the void, a presence that filled the cave like smoke.
Today, she was something in between. Her body was humanoid but wrong—too long, too thin, her limbs bending in places where limbs shouldn't bend. Her hair floated around her head like a living thing, dark tendrils that seemed to reach toward us even as she remained perfectly still. Her eyes were the worst part. They had no color, no whites, no pupils—just endless black pits that seemed to swallow the light from the bioluminescent creatures around her.
"Kaelan." She said my name like she was tasting it, rolling it around on a tongue I couldn't see. "And Riven. How delightful. Back so soon? It's only been... what? A few weeks since you and the silver-haired one came begging for that swimming potion?"
"You know why we're here." I kept my voice steady, refusing to show the fear that was crawling up my spine like ice water.
"Ah, yes. The human girl again." Her smile revealed teeth like needles, rows upon rows of them disappearing into the darknessof her throat. "I do so enjoy her making it so you come to me. I told you that you'd be back, perhaps to give her a tail to replace those pretty feet." Her bottomless eyes slid to Riven. "And you, scarred one. I haven't seen you in centuries. Not since you came to me alone, desperate for something to ease the pain of those wounds. I took something... precious from you then."
Riven's growl vibrated through the water, low and dangerous. "You know what you took."
"I do." Her smile widened, and I counted at least four rows of teeth before the darkness swallowed the rest. "The memory of your mother's face. The sound of her voice singing you to sleep. Such a lovely price for such a simple request." She tilted her head, her hair writhing around her like serpents. "Now you're back. Both of you. Together." Her black eyes gleamed with something that might have been delight. "This must be about the human girl."
I felt Riven tense beside me, felt his rage spike through the bond like a physical blow. But I held up my hand, stopping him before he could do something foolish.
"Yes." I said simply, because there was no point in lying. The witch knew everything that happened in her waters. She'd known we were coming before we'd even decided to make the journey. "We need more time."
"Time." She repeated the word slowly, savoring it like a fine wine. "Such a precious commodity. Especially for your little human. She's running out of it, isn't she? Her scent blocker is nearly gone. Her swimming potion is almost depleted." She leaned forward, and I caught a glimpse of something moving in the darkness behind her—something large and ancient and better left unseen. "She'll be exposed soon. Vulnerable. All those hungry alphas and betas on that ship, finally realizing what they have in their midst."
"That's why we're here," I forced the words out through clenched teeth, hating every syllable not liking how she always seemed to know what was going on without having to really tell her anything."We need more blocker. More potion. Enough to give her time to decide."
"To decide what?" The witch's voice was silk and poison, sliding over my skin like oil. "Whether to stay with you? Whether to let you transform her, claim her, keep her in the dark depths forever?" She laughed, and the sound was like bones breaking, like ships sinking, like every terrible thing I'd ever heard condensed into a single horrible noise. "She already knows what she wants, little siren. She's just too afraid to take it."
"That's her choice to make." The words came out harder than I intended, sharp as coral. "Not yours. Not even ours. Hers." The witch studied me for a long moment, her black eyes unreadable. Then she smiled again—slower this time, almost approving.
"I do love the stubborn ones," She murmured, more to herself than to us. "Very well. I can give you what you need. Scent blocker. Swimming potion. Enough to last her... let's say a month. Long enough for her to make her decision, one way or another."
"What's the price?" Riven's voice was rough, barely controlled. I could feel him vibrating beside me, every muscle coiled tight with the effort of not attacking her. The witch's smile widened, and this time I saw all the rows of teeth—seven, eight, more than I could count, disappearing into the endless dark of her throat.
"A memory," she said softly, almost gently. "One from each of you. Your happiest. The single brightest moment in all your long, long lives."
The water around us seemed to freeze. I heard Riven's sharp intake of breath, felt his shock and horror pulse through the bond like a physical blow. Memories were precious to sirens.More precious than gold, more precious than territory, more precious than anything else in the world. They were all we had of the centuries behind us. The only proof that we had lived, that we had mattered, that our existence meant anything at all.
She wanted our happiest ones.
