Sable doesn’t slow his pace.
We leave the busiest part behind and climb higher into the rock, following a steep and uneven path. The noise becomes duller up here, and as I look behind us, I find fog already separates us from the life below. We cross a bridge, which brings us from one cliff to another. The stone walls pressing in on either side make the path even narrower, so that I have to walk in front of Sable now. Strange things hang from above, bundles of dried seaweed, glass bottles filled with cloudy liquid, and strings of shells that do not seem to be there for decorative purposes.
Then the path opens up in front of us, and Sable’s footsteps slow down behind me.
Built into the cliff itself, half made of wood and half made of stone, the house looks like it grew into the rock instead of being built there. There are no bones above the door frame, but instead, hundreds of shells surround the door that appears to be made out of driftwood.
For the first time since we made port, he hesitates.
“You don’t want to see her?” I ask quietly, looking up into his face, trying to read his expression.
Sable just stares at the door, eyes flickering towards the light spilling through one of the windows of the house.
“She doesn’t like surprises.”
“Sable, I don't think there’s any chance she doesn’t know we‘re here, it’s like you said, the sea has its way of carrying rumors through the wind.”
His gaze drifts for a moment, his jaw tightening slightly before he nods. He strides towards the door and is about to knock, but the door swings open before his knuckles meet the wood.
Behind him stands the most breathtaking woman I have ever seen.
“There you are,” she says, her white teeth flashing in her smile. “Took you long enough, brother.”
I stand there awkwardly as the siblings share a hug, and I use the opportunity to gawk at her shamelessly.
Her hair is black, like Sable’s, but where his is loose and slightly waved, hers is like dark, dripping oil, not unlike the waters that surround the island. Corals and shells seem to grow out of her, as much a part of her as her skin, scattered around in all the colors imaginable. Faint pinks, deep reds, and oranges. The biggest corals sit on her shoulders like decorations. Like jewelry gifted to her by the sea. Her dress slides loosely over her figure, glistening in the lantern light like a seaweed layered over black silk.
When her eyes land on me, I do not look away. Instead, I meet her gaze and offer her a slight smile, careful not to show off the sharp point of my canines. I am certain that if she didn’t want me here, I wouldn’t even have made it up the cliffs. She is powerful. I can feel it in the buzzing of energy that radiates from her. Sea magic.
“So, this is the siren I’ve been hearing about,” she says as she releases Sable from their embrace and steps towards me. The corals on her shoulder clink together as she moves. “The sea whispered about you days ago. It was all she could talk about.”
The magic radiating from her makes the air around us hum. Where the imbalance of power between us may be a point of jealousy within me, it does not frighten me. Instead, I feel a connection there in the air between us. We’re both creations ofthe sea, one of us decidedly more than the other, I’ll admit, but it counts nonetheless.
I have never met someone even close to being what I am. She must know what it's like to be stared at. To be different. To be feared.
“Nice to meet you,” I say quickly, offering her my hand. “I’m Eryse.”
“Eryse,” she repeats, a smile tugging at her lips as she looks at me knowingly with sharp eyes.
“I’m Cailia.”
“Alright,” Sable says from behind his sister, reminding us of his presence. “Now that you two have sniffed one another or whatever is customary for you, can we go inside now? We have a lot to discuss.”
Cailia raises one brow, a smile tugging at her lips.
“He’s impatient,” she tells me quietly before turning to follow Sable into the house.
Tell me something I don't know.
As soon as the door is closed, the candles inside the room come to life and flicker, immediately brightening the room.
The walls inside are fused with corals in places where brick should be, pale branches of it crawling up the corners and jutting out underneath the roof. There are shells embedded into the walls too, not hung or placed, but as if they grew there. As if it is their natural place in the world. Glass jars line rough wooden shelves, filled with water, sand, bones, or strands of kelp. In between them, books are stacked on top of one another, looking old and ancient.
Sable pulls a chair draped with nets and dried seaweed from under the wooden table and perches on it.
“We finally found the Glim,” he announces in all seriousness, straightening his posture against the back of the chair.
“Wrong,” she interrupts, walking around the table in slow circles, her long gown sweeping behind her. I am yet to fully enter the room, lingering by the entrance with uncertainty.
