Eyes of the abyss
The sun sank slowly beneath the horizon, casting its fading orange glow across the sea, turning the waves to molten gold. As it disappeared, the moon began its quiet ascent, its pale light spilling across the darkened water in a shimmering trail. The night sky stretched above Vivienne, the stars twinkling like distant diamonds, but her attention was on the sea. Her thoughts had drifted far from the ship, the crew, and even the journey ahead, lost in the soft rhythm of the waves lapping against the hull.
Vivienne leaned against the railing, her fingers brushing lightly against the cold wood, the cool night air tousling her hair. She was deep in thought, far removed from the festivities unfolding behind her. The sailors, freed from the weight of their daily duties, had decided to celebrate their successful foraging trip. They cracked open a bottle of the expensive wine meant for the King of the other kingdom—gifted by the prince himself for diplomatic purposes. It was a rare and highly prized vintage, and though the prince had more than enough to spare, the sailors’ drunken revelry only seemed to heighten their excitement. One bottle was all they needed, but that didn’t stop them from taking full advantage of it. Their laughter and boisterous shouts drifted through the air, muffled by the distance as Vivienne found herself alone at the edge of the ship.
The ship had anchored near a shadowy cove, the water around them dark and foreboding. A large, jagged cave loomed in the distance, its opening like the mouth of some great, slumbering beast. The wind had shifted, and there was a strange pull to the place, an almost magnetic force that seemed to call to her. Vivienne felt a stir of curiosity. She had always been drawn to the unknown, the unexplained, and this place—this cave, this stretch of the sea—was thick with mystery. But what troubled her more than the cave itself was the sense of being watched. The feeling that had haunted her since they crossed the part of the ocean where the Abbyssal Lament roamed was now inescapable.
Vivienne’s heart skipped a beat as her gaze locked with those eyes.
Those empty eyes, with an empty void instead of pupils.
The figure appeared as if summoned by the shadows themselves. She srested there, tail unmoving, her features almost ethereal. Her eyes were no longer the typical reflection of human emotion, no pupils or irises, just an endless white void staring back at Vivienne. It was as if the depths of the ocean itself were looking into her, pulling her in, promising a kind of infinite darkness. Twisted, coral-like horns spiraled from the figure’s head, sharp and otherworldly, framing her face in an almost regal manner. Her hair was black, so dark it seemed to absorb the surrounding light, like the void itself. It moved with the waves, a fluid, living thing that tangled with the air. Beneath the water, something long and serpentine shifted, a dark-scaled tail disappearing beneath the surface, barely a ripple betraying its presence.
Vivienne’s breath caught in her throat, but it wasn’t fear that gripped her. It was the strange allure of the moment, the recognition of something from her books, something she had read about in ancient texts, whispered of in sailor legends. There was no doubt in her mind now. The siren—the Abbyssal Lament—had been watching her, observing her, waiting.
A curious thrill ran through Vivienne, and instead of recoiling in terror like anyone else might, she stood her ground. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips, her voice light and amused, as though she were addressing a stranger at a dinner party rather than an ancient, dangerous creature.
“Are you a siren?” she asked, her tone carrying an almost playful edge. She had heard the stories, read the warnings, but something in her couldn’t quite summon the fear that others would have in the face of such a creature. The siren’s eyes widened, but she didn’t move. Her stillness was unnerving, as though she, too, was trying to understand the situation. There was something oddly frozen in her—like a force was holding her in place, keeping her from reacting.
Before Vivienne could speak again, a loud, drunken voice shattered the moment.
“Are ya seein’ things, princess?” A sailor stumbled into view, his words slurred, his balance unsteady from too much wine. Vivienne’s amused smile faltered, replaced by a cold, blank mask as she turned her attention to him. The ship’s chaos had drawn her focus away from the siren, and the creature, in turn, vanished beneath the water, her presence sinking back into the abyss.
“You know sirens aren’t real things, yeah?” The sailor chuckled, a drunken, mocking sound. “Those’re just myths, darlin’, don’t freak yerself out.” He seemed genuinely entertained by the idea that the princess might be imagining things, as though her royal upbringing had led her to fantasy and folly. He laughed heartily, oblivious to the tension in the air, his gaze shifting to the stars as he steadied himself on the deck.
Vivienne, however, did not share in his amusement. She looked back to the spot where the siren had been moments before, her heart still racing with the knowledge that she had seen something beyond the realm of her understanding. She turned back to the sailor, her voice neutral, betraying none of the emotions that were swirling inside her.
“You must be correct,” Vivienne said quietly, her words devoid of their earlier amusement. “Maybe I am freaking myself out.” She paused, her gaze flickering for a moment to the distant waves where the siren had disappeared. With a soft sigh, she turned and began walking toward her chamber, her steps slow and deliberate.
The sound of the sailor’s laughter trailed off behind her, but Vivienne’s mind was far from the drunken crew. It lingered on the siren, on the Abbyssal Lament—and what that encounter might mean for her, and for this strange journey she was on. Something was watching her, something ancient and powerful, and for the first time, Vivienne wasn’t sure if she was ready to uncover its secrets.