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Prisoner

Sirena

Here, the ocean whispers. Low and mournful, drowning in its own sorrow. I move through the gloom of the siren village. It lies far below the reach of sunlight, only lit by bioluminescent creatures floating through the streets. Some are trapped in lanterns. Eyes watch from behind coral columns, silent as death. They know why I’m here. They know who I have come for. They know not to cross their queen. But what I know, what I found out through the sirens’ gossiping, isn’t right. I won’t allow a child to suffer. This is wrong, even for a siren.

I find who I’m looking for, right where I thought she would be, curled up in a blanket of soft seaweed on a bed of black sand. A child. Neressa, her mother named her, daughter of the sea. She is so small and fragile. Amber-toned skin peeks out between clusters of tiny obsidian scales, the tips of each one catching the light with faint specks of crimson and deep emerald. She lies still, but she is not dead. She was given the body of a siren, but not the mercy of gills. In the deep, far from air, the human part of her has been left to starve, left her suspended between life and death. Exactly what my sister wants.

Her eyes slowly blink open when I kneel beside her. Goosebumps rise on my skin at the sight of their cool gray, the rarest color for any Sirenborne child to possess. There is no fear, and she does not cry. There is only a terrible silence, the sea holding its breath as she holds hers. So small, and already so aware. She needs help.

I do not have much time to get Neressa out. Too many eyes followed me through the darkest corners of the siren town. Word will reach Anya soon.

My gaze sweeps across the empty room, bile rising in my throat. What a miserable place to raise a Sirenborne. No toys and no warmth. Barely enough light to soften the shadows clinging to the stone walls.

Anger festers inside of me at the thought of Neressa growing up here, trapped, starving, and suffocating beneath Anya’s control. Denied the sun against her skin, denied lullabies, denied the chance to explore the world beyond these walls or embrace her human form which lies dormant deep down here.

It disgusts me. Neressa deserves so much more, even if she was made of two horrid souls.

I look down at her small chest, and there it is. The tether, a shimmer of red magic pulsing through her body and coiling like a serpent around her heart. Twisting up and out into the abyss. Toward wherever Anya is. Once, my sister was light, and all that is good. Now she holds her own daughter captive.

“Your mother made you her anchor, little one,” I whisper, brushing her dark, tight curls from her face. “She bound you in blood… so she could live.” The child couldn’t understand, could she? But something in her gaze flickers as if she does.

Anya is alive only because this girl is not allowed to be. Tied by souls, imprisoned so no one can harm her. If Neressa dies, so does Anya. If Anya dies, so does Neressa. Neressa holds half of Anya’s soul, and Anya holds half of Neressa’s. It’s dark magic at its finest. Anya’s original body has long since perished, and this is the only way she can have a physical form in this realm. She made some very powerful beings alter their morals to get what she wants. She learned of this dark magic through a witch. One she will not name.

I stare at the child for a little while longer. Saving her would threaten my crown, but I know in my heart I must do what is right. The balance of the sea has been off for some time now. This child is living, breathing dark magic that should have never taken form. One that will have to stay out of the sea, forever. It’s the only way to keep Anya from imprisoning her, trapping her in the depths of the ocean, where she can’t breathe, love, or live. Her body will call to the saltwater, will ache for it. But her mother can feel everything inside the ocean. One toe in the water and Neressa will be captured, stolen, and returned to the half-life I’m freeing her of.

I pull her into my arms and swim, the shimmering red tether stretching, fraying, then breaking as I force distance between the baby and Anya. With every stroke, Anya grows weaker.

I swim for many moons and many sunrises. I take the sweet baby girl up to the surface to breathe real, clean air. Life floods back into her little face.

I continue through currents thick with rage. Sirens dart at me from every direction, hissing that I am a traitor to every law of magic I swore to uphold.

With a flick of my wrist, a current of water slams into the first few, sending them tumbling through the depths. Another reaches for me. I seize her by the throat and force her backward with a pulse of magic that cracks through the sea like thunder. The rest hesitate, their anger faltering beneath the weight of my power.

Anya may have her followers, but I am the queen.

I swim until I find land. Magda, the home of pirates and slayers. It’s there that I place her on the blackened sand, moonlight spilling over her in the soft seaweed blanket still swathed around her. Her body shifts from a siren infant into a human baby in an instant. Her Siren tail uncoils into two innocently wriggly, chubby legs, scales melting away to reveal beautiful, golden-brown skin. Her scales knew only suffering. Perhaps here, made anew, she may live. Breathe. Walk freely away from the dark tides who stalk and smother and leech. Neressa gasps softly before a small cry escapes her lips.

The sobbing fades quickly. Beneath the silver glow of the moon, her gray eyes widen as they wander across the stars above us and fill with quiet wonder. She is a beautiful sight.

I sense someone coming; I smell him before anything, salt and steel. A man with wild eyes approaches the shore, a blade on his back and a storm in his bones. I swim behind a jagged rock, hiding in its shadow.

Kneeling beside her, the man lifts her gently and whispers, “Ye not supposed to be here, are ye, little Sirenborne?” Smart man, he can tell what she is even without the sharp tail. I watch him intently, his every move, every breath. He holds her tenderly. Something in me warms. I have never felt this for a mortal man before. I usually enjoy singing them a lullaby before dragging them under the surface.

“Neressa,” I sing in a low note, just enough for him to catch wind. My voice carries, a gift of being a siren. If she is to live the life she’s going to, then the least I can give her is her real name. Her beautiful name. The one part of her that no one can change. I risk being seen to give him this name. If I’m ever caught on pirate shores, they will string me up and let the air suffocate me. Throw daggers at me for target practice.

The man glances up, eyes narrowing as he scans the beach, searching for the one who owns the voice. “Neressa, is it, aye?” A grin carves through his scruff as his gaze drops to baby Neressa, holding her like she is his very own.

“Cap’n!”

My attention is jerked to the far end of the beach as another man comes running up along the shore. Sand sprays when he skids to a stop beside the man holding Neressa. “What’s this, Cap’n Bleu?” Bleu. Captain Bleu of The Siren. Notorious for slaying anything and everything that gets in the way of his gold. Or threatens his precious, magic-drenched ship. I swallow the lump in my throat.

“Smith, this is Neressa,” Bleu says, his eyes still fixed in awe on the baby in his arms. “I’m going to find her a home on land. There must be a reason why a Sirenborne would wash up on shore like this.”

The man, Smith, steps closer and peers down at her. “A baby, Cap’n? The crew won’t go for a baby.”

Bleu snaps his head up. “Didn’t ye hear me? I said she will stay on land.” He doesn’t even know this baby, and yet he is protecting her.

“Alright Cap’n, what do we do?”