Pirate territory.
Which is also why most sirens avoid these waters. Only a few of us dare to live there, which is why I don’t know much about it. Mother called them death sirens, and even I can admit that the thought of it terrifies me.
“Eryse!”
The shout snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts. I toss the holystone I’m using to scrub the planks into my bucket of seawater and crane my neck, shielding my eyes from the sun with my arm. Nightglass appears above, already back at his station in the crow’s nest, eyes fixed on the Glim.
“Come up here!” he calls again, then turns back to keep his eye on the horizon.
Up… there?
I stare at the mast. It towers above the deck, rising straight and proud at the ship’s center. It must be taller than the ship fromkeel to deck. My gaze follows the ratlines swaying around it, only loosely secured by iron hooks.
I’ve climbed one before, and that didn’t end well. I do not like heights at all. Sirens live in the water. We do not climb mountains.
Swallowing, I grab the railing and set my foot on the lowest rope rail. The coarse fibers bite into my soft skin. Then I pull myself up and start climbing, the ropes rough and damp beneath my palms.
I’ve seen the men do this during storms, one-handed, knives clenched between their teeth. They make it look effortless. I certainly do not. When I reach the middle of the mast, I glance down.
I regret it instantly. This is so high.
Swallowing, I force myself to take a deep breath.
“Come on, lass,” Nightglass chuckles from above, and I look up to glare at him.
“This is not funny,” I snap, continuing upward with trembling legs.
“It kind of is,” he says, laughing. In that moment, I want to throw him overboard so he knows what it feels like to be outside your natural element.
Okay, that might be a little drastic. The siren within me likes the idea, though.
When I reach the small wooden platform, Nightglass grabs my arm and pulls me up securely. A low rail surrounds it, and I’m grateful for solid ground beneath my feet.
“There you go,” he smiles, already making his way back down the rigging.
“Wait.” I grip the rail, focusing on his face instead of the drop. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Watch the Glim,” he replies. “I’ll be back in an hour. Need to check on Lark.”
I give him a curt nod and quickly turn around so I don’t lose sight of the Glim. I still have no idea how I summoned it, and I don’t know if it’s repeatable, should it ever decide to disappear.
The ship’s movement is stronger up here, and so is the wind. The Glim moves beneath the waves, even fainter in the distance. The sea looks unreal. Gasping, I take in the view in front of me.
The water reflects the surrounding corals in shades of pink, orange, and purple. As cursed as it is, the way it sparkles and moves is breathtaking. Of course, it’s a trap. It wasn’t until the 90th Year of the Tide that humans realized that yes, the water heals, but it also takes a memory in return.
Sighing, I rest my elbows on the railing and watch the world pass in silence. The warm breeze smells of salt and something sweet, and it reminds me of home, wherever that was.
I don’t remember which sea I grew up in. Not because of the lost memory, but simply because I was too small to remember. My mother made me swim with the swarm whenever she could, but I was never fast enough to keep up and couldn’t stay beneath the water for long. Too often, she left me waiting on nearby islands. When I was lucky, my father was near, and he would stay with me until the swarm returned. They did not tolerate a pirate among them, though, so those moments soon became rare. I remember thinking I would be better off with him, how easy it would be to spend my life sailing the seas at his side. But my mother didn’t want to give up on me, and even when I was little, the sea was calling my name, always insisting me to try again, to stay. I was always in between the worlds, but didn’t feel at home in either of them. Finding my swarm would be nearly impossible, even if I got my tail back. Still, a small part of me hopes I’ll one day be reunited with my mother.
Moments later, my peace is interrupted by a brooding pirate captain. The wood creaks behind me, and the mast sways as his heavy steps reach the platform. It’s strange that I recognize himby scent now, but when I catch that salty, spicy musk, I know it’s Sable.
“What are you doing up here?” I ask, swallowing down my bitterness without taking my eyes off the Glim. He’s the reason for my nightmares, after all.
“Making sure,” he says, stopping beside me, one hand bracing the railing, his shoulder brushing mine, “that you’re completing your task correctly.”
I nod slowly, a smile tugging at my lips.
“I understand. You don’t trust me with watching the Glim.”
