A Siren's Silence | Novelette

F I V E | H E R O I C S

F I V E

H E R O I C S

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AND FOUND THEM, they had. And in just the condition Peisinoe knew she would.

    Ligeia and Leucosia leapt from the water, tails arcing with a brilliant glitter, as they barreled into Mortals, knocking them over the ship's walls and into the fathomless depths below. Her mother swooped through the air, bloodstained talons gouging into eyes, jowls, throats, and scalps. Caws, cries, and bellows serenaded the chill evening waters, far less symphonious to Peisinoe's ears than she would've rather let on.

    Peisinoe crept forward, having lost Thelxiepeia in the crush of blood and bodies, and –

    A hand clamped down upon her shoulder, halting her in her path.

    Parthenope's eyes glittered malevolently, blood crawled to her elbows and splashed across her torso. Her ebony hair shimmered, much like the water did when touched with sunlight. "Your mother expects that you will kill tonight, Peisinoe." A sickly-sweet voice informed.

    Peisinoe's throat bobbed and Parthenope's fingers clenched firmer, deeper.

    "Yes," She breathed. "Yes, I will."

    "Good," Parthenope cooed. Her finger slid, adjusting a curl of Peisinoe's hair.

    A splash resounded from nearby, bubbles and foam tossing along Peisinoe's hair as Teles stole another Mortal from the ship.

    "Make it pretty, won't you?" Parthenope continued, tucking the curl of hair behind Peisinoe's ear. "Make it beautiful. And we shall see that you'll be rewarded for it. Perhaps, you might take a Mortal man for you pleasure, hmm?" Parthenope smirked cruelly. "And do with him what you wish."

    Peisinoe's stomach twisted, and she looked down at her tail, watching it swish and swirl through the blood-soaked waters.

    Killing a Mortal.

Taking a Mortal.

Neither was appealing.

♢

    For all Peisinoe knew, it could have taken her seconds, minutes, days, or even years to gather her courage.

    She bade her time. Waiting beyond the precipice. A cruel sort of bystander. To see such Mortal pain, such wreckage and unbidden ruin, and not interfere.

    Everyone played a role in the game of the Sirens. Everyone made a choice. And she had made the poor choice of cowering.

    Until now, that was.

    She had watched as Ligeia arched through the air, toppling over Mortal and Mortal. She had watched as Teles and Himerope sang to Mortals beneath the sea, until they grew lax and unguarded and poured overboard into their awaiting grasp.

    Though a sickening dread filled her, the hunger of her beast was unrelenting. Her fangs elongated jaggedly, mouth broadening over them, her beast's form threatening to rupture apart her skin and bone, explode from her very veins.

    She felt her eyes narrow and a spasm of hunger took hold of her.

    She could nearly feel their color morphing – to one of dark, horrible, eagle-like chartreuse. Her sight furthered, their acuity broadening until she could perceive beyond the shadows of Mortal and whispers color through water. Until she could see Mortals through the water, clothing, color, and all.