Suicidal princess
Now that Vivienne knew exactly whose eyes were on her every hour of every day, she decided it was time to confront the siren. The legends said that anyone who saw a siren was doomed to die, but Naevira hadn’t killed her yet. That had to count for something, right? Besides, there weren’t any stories of women falling victim to a siren’s song—not yet, at least. If she was the first, well, so be it. If not, she’d just be another footnote in the siren’s eternal history.
As the ship neared Valoria, her anxiety deepened. But Vivienne couldn’t let herself be distracted. She had a more pressing matter to handle: confronting the Abyssal Lament.
That night, when the ship dropped anchor for a short reprieve, Vivienne made her move. She waited until the crew was distracted and slipped off the ship, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. Her boots splashed through the shallows as she made her way to the shore of a nearby island, the hem of her dress darkened and heavy with seawater. A lantern dangled from her right hand, casting flickering light over the damp sand and jagged rocks. She stopped and took a deep breath, the sea breeze tugging at her hair.
“Show yourself,” she called out into the darkness. Her voice was steady, though her heart threatened to betray her calm. There was no immediate answer. “I know you’re watching me,” she pressed, her voice firmer now.
The silence lingered until, slowly, a figure began to materialize from the shadows. Pale, smooth skin shimmered faintly in the moonlight, and markings that resembled scales seemed to shift with every movement. Thick, black hair flowed like ink in the water, framing a face with eyes that were nothing but endless, milky voids. Twisted, coral-like horns adorned her head, giving her an otherworldly beauty that was both haunting and captivating. Around her neck hung a pendant carved from deep-sea jade, its intricate sigil unmistakable. Vivienne had read about such artifacts in countless books, but seeing it in person was an entirely different experience.
“You must be suicidal, princess, to speak so casually to a deity like me,” Naevira said, her tone laced with bemusement rather than malice. There was a hint of surprise in her expression, as if Vivienne’s lack of fear caught her off guard.
“Not suicidal,” Vivienne replied smoothly, crouching down in the sand and placing the lantern beside her. “Just overly curious. Tell me, what have I done to earn the attention of the sea’s greatest myth?”
Naevira didn’t answer right away. She lingered at the edge of the water, her webbed fingers brushing the sand as though caught between reaching out and holding back. Half-submerged, her presence was both grounded and otherworldly, as if the sea itself had birthed her. Vivienne noticed the siren’s hand drifting closer to her knees, and though the gesture was subtle, it was hard to miss.
When Naevira still hesitated, Vivienne’s lips curled into a teasing grin. “What is it, then? My striking looks? Or my utterly charming personality?” Her voice was light, her words laced with mischief, but her eyes didn’t stray from the siren’s face. She wasn’t about to let her guard down.
Naevira chuckled softly, a sound like the tide lapping against the shore. “Why, aren’t you full of yourself, princess?” she said, finally meeting Vivienne’s gaze. “But yes, perhaps your striking looks are part of it.” There was a flicker of amusement in her pale, unreadable eyes, and her lips curled into a faint, playful smile.
The banter hung in the air between them, charged and electric. For all the stories Vivienne had read, none had prepared her for the sheer presence of Naevira. And yet, instead of fear, all she felt was curiosity—and maybe, just maybe, something else entirely.