Lyra basked on a massive rock in the middle of the Moriston River. It was an unseasonably warm day, and she was going to get every drop of sunlight she could. She flicked her tail, casting another cursory glance around the river’s edges to ensure her privacy. Humans knew about the existence of magic and all of its inhabitants, but her kind were notoriously cagey about being seen.
Especially because humans always referred to Lyra as a mermaid.
Lyra wasnota mermaid.
The last time she’d let herself be seen by a human—around 1990—to her horror, they hadn’t been afraid of her. The family of tourists had started screaming something about a Disney movie as the daughter squealed about saving Lyra from a sea witch.
“Iamthe sea witch,” Lyra hissed, “and you’d do well to remember not to approach the creatures of the water.” She’d revealed her true form to the family and watched them go running from the riverbank in terror.
Lyra was a maighdeann-mhara, a maid of the sea, or better known as a siren. In her truest form, she appeared with the upper half of a human woman and a sleek tail for her lower half.
Her tail was covered in a spine of sharp spikes and an array of blue scales that tapered off into a long, wispy set of fins. It looked more like a reptilian tail than a fish’s, giving her a serpentine, dangerous appearance. Some of her scales were so dark they were almost black, and others were such a light shade of blue they appeared pearlescent.
When Lyra was angry or threatened, her fingernails extended into claws, and her teeth grew as sharp as a dog’s. Her ears were long and angular like a fae’s, except they shaped into delicate, pointed fins. Long, black hair hung nearly to her waist; its color was so vibrant it looked dark blue in the sunlight. She could manifest in an entirely human body if she wished, but it’d been decades since she’d had a reason to.
Once she was satisfied she was alone, Lyra settled on her back and closed her eyes. It was rare to get a sunny afternoon in Scotland, and she was going to spend it napping in the warmth. As soon as she started to drift off to sleep, something broke the surface of the water.
Lyra sat straight up and hissed, turning towards the sound as her claws appeared. Lyra was the apex predator in these waters, but there were plenty of other creatures who weren’t above trying to take a bite out of her.
“Be quiet.” A calm, stoic woman’s voice echoed all around Lyra. There were ripples on the river’s surface, but Lyra couldn’t see where the sound was coming from.
“Reveal yourself!” Lyra’s lip curled as her teeth started to elongate. Her tail whipped back and forth, a heavy band of muscle, as she prepared to launch herself off the rock.
“I don’t listen to you.” The voice was taunting Lyra now. “In fact,youshould be the one listening to me.” Lyra opened her mouth and was prepared to retort when the mysterious woman revealed herself. Lyra fought to keep the shock off her face.
It was a goddess. The power emanating from her left no room for argument. Her bright, teal hair was nearly down to her ankles. Her eyes glowed the same electric color. Her skin had a greenish tint, making the goddess appear dead. She had permanent black tearstains on her cheeks, and her talons were longer than Lyra’s.
The goddess wore a black hood marked with a golden triskele, which matched her shredded dress. There was a belt tied around her waist, glowing with a green sailor’s Celtic knot pattern. The most horrifying detail was her sword—a short, deadly blade, with detailing that made the hilt and handle look like a human spine.
Lyra took one look at the wicked weapon and realized who had appeared before her.
“Cliodhna.” Lyra sneered, her lip curling. She’d heard rumors that the Irish goddess had been making her way through Scottish waters, but no one knew why. Lyra was surprised to see the rumors were true. She’d assumed Manannán would’ve chased her right back to Cork.
Cliodhna smiled, revealing black teeth. “There’s no reason for us to be hostile, sweet siren. I mean you no harm.”
Lyra’s tail flicked back and forth in irritation. She fought the urge to jump into the water, feeling incredibly vulnerable out of it.
“Do you?” Lyra questioned. “No one knows why you’re in Scotland, but you have inspired no less than a legion of rumors about your presence.”
Cliodhna preened, flipping some of her hair over her shoulder.
“Lovely,” she sighed happily. “It’s good to know my reputation still does some of my work for me.”
Every muscle in Lyra’s body tensed. “Why are you here?”
Oh, Manannán, god of us all, if you hear me now, come back to your waters!Lyra started praying feverently, unsure if she’d even be heard.
“I’m not here, not really.” Cliodhna’s smile widened.
Lyra squinted, studying the goddess, until she could see the faintest outline of the shore behind them through Cliodhna’s robes.
She’s an apparition.Lyra relaxed, but only slightly. The goddess could still harm her even while appearing as a spirit.She’s smart. She knows if she showed up here in her physical body, Manannán would have all the excuse he needs to wage a war.
“What do you want with me then?” Lyra pushed, her claws digging into the rough rock beneath her.
Cliodhna laughed, and it sounded like soft bells.
“You are so hostile, young one.”
