Riona’s face became cold, almost angry as she looked around the group, her hand still resting on his arm. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” Emry admitted, his voice still raw from the encounter. “But whatever it is… this is just the beginning.”
The unsettling feeling lingered, prompting the group to return to the inn quickly. Inside the group tried to settle, but the chilling encounter remained a heavy weight, a reminder of their near loss.
That night, the women vigilantly watched over Eirin and Emry, their caution fueled by the haunting melody and illuminating eyes they had witnessed. During her shift, Sorcha sat by the cool glass, her fingers tracing the cold steel of her dagger as she scanned the harbor, the distant orbs of light seeming to stare back from the black water. Riona paced, her voice a low murmur as she spoke, while Rhosyn remained by Eirin’s side, the smooth wood of her bow ready. Although the night passed without further incident, sleep evaded them all.
The next morning, they readied for the long journey home. They sat down, the rough wooden benches cool beneath them, and forced down breakfast. The smellof frying bacon and stale mead hung in the air. Across the room, Circle members from the coast, their sun-kissed skin gleaming, sat a few tables over, eyes fixed. A hushed tension filled the air. A figure rose and approached, exchanging glances, her polished boots echoing on the floor. She was flanked by a wiry younger man, whose sun-streaked hair glinted in the morning light.
“You’re Commander Nethran’s people, aren’t you?” the woman asked.
Sorcha nodded, gesturing for her to sit. “That’s right. I’m Sorcha. This is Riona, Rhosyn, Eirin, and Emry. And you?”
“Lieutenant Elenna,” the woman replied, glancing back at her companion. “This is Cadet Loran. We’re part of the Coastal Circle.”
There was a beat of silence before Elenna leaned forward. “I hope I’m not overstepping, but I couldn’t help but notice…” She trailed off, searching for the words. “You all look like you got little sleep. Was it the singing?”
Sorcha froze, her grip tightening around her mug. “You’ve heard it too?”
Elenna nodded grimly. “It’s been happening for weeks now. It always happens at night. Fishers say it comes from the deep waters, a mournful sound that carries on the wind. A few men have gone missing, and so have boats.”
Riona cut in, her tone on edge. “Why hasn’t this been reported? Something like this should’ve gone straight to the elders.”
Loran shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. “We tried. But the elders dismissed it as nonsense, superstition from tired sailors. We’ve been handling it on our own, but it’s getting worse.”
Emry leaned forward, his expression thoughtful, though unease flickered in his blue eyes. “If it’s been happening for weeks, have you seen it? Or anything that might explain it?”
Elenna stiffened. “Not directly. But there’s been evidence. Drag marks near the water’s edge. Fishing netsshredded like paper. And sometimes, when the fog rolls in, you see shapes. Things that shouldn’t be there.”
A chill ran through the group. Sorcha glanced at Rhosyn, who frowned deeply. “We ran into creatures last night,” Sorcha admitted quietly. “Kelpie. It nearly dragged Eirin and Emry into the water.”
Her voice trailed off, but Riona picked up where Sorcha left off, her tone tight and low. “It wasn’t just Eirin. The kelpie got to Emry, too, just not as quickly. We pulled them back before…” She stopped, her hands curling into fists against the table.
Elenna’s expression darkened. “A kelpie? This far inland? I don’t like what that implies.”
“What does it imply?” Eirin asked, his voice hoarse from the night before.
Elenna hesitated, glancing at Loran before speaking again, her voice quieter. “It means something’s driving them from their territories. Powerful enough to disrupt creatures that normally stay far from the shores. If they’re targeting people.“
“It’s not just kelpies,” Loran added, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’ve seen other things. Shadows in the water. Things with too many eyes. The sea isn’t safe anymore.”
Emry exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming against the edge of the table. “If what you’re saying is true, it’s more than just a local superstition. This will spread, displacement of creatures like kelpies isn’t exactly subtle.”
Riona shot him a glare, her voice tight with worry. “You think it’s deliberate?”
“I think we’d be foolish not to consider it,” Emry replied. His gaze flicked back to Elenna. “Why are you telling us this?”
Elenna’s expression was grim. “Because no one else is listening.”
Eirin hadn’t spoken since the harbor. He sat stiffly, his knuckles white against the mug’s handle. Sorcha knew that look. Emry, too, sat more still than usual, his normally animated expression subdued.
Their conversation ended abruptly as another Coastal Circle officer approached, her expression neutral but her eyes moving between the two groups. Elenna straightened, her professional mask slipping back into place. “If you learn anything,” she said, her voice carefully measured, “you’ll let us know, won’t you?”
Sorcha nodded. “You have my word.”
As Elenna and Loran rejoined their group, Riona leaned back in her chair. “Well. That’s not ominous at all.”
The weight of the conversation hung heavy as they finished their meal and prepared to leave Glenn na Mara.
