Page 1 of The Siren & the Sea

Chapter 1

Maura took a deepbreath of cool, salt-laced air and savored the the wind nipping at her cheeks. The expanse of the Vaporiad Sea sprawled before her. The sea was a new friend of Maura's; she had spent most of her days in the snowy hills of Beitar. Until her life went up in smoke, in every sense.

She forced her spiraling thoughts down, refusing to let herself dwell on the home she'd left behind. It wasn't much of a home by the time she'd left. She much preferred this wild, rocky northern coast and its reckless icy waves.

The sea occupied a large portion of the center of the continent of Domhan na Rùin, and she had always dreamt of seeing it. Though, with Beitar's isolation, that hadn't seemed like a dream likely to come true. Gazing out at the endless depths, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Maura decided that–since she was in full possession of her time–she would take a walk up to the cliffs. She had made the walk dozens of times in the month she'd been here, and she’dnever seen a soul. It had been strange at first to get used to being so alone here, but she had quickly grown to enjoy the solitude.

The human population of Aphana avoided this particular stretch of coastline at all costs. Tales of vicious sirens dragging unsuspecting people down to their city beneath the waves were told to children at bedtime here. The moment Maura had inquired about the fisherman’s cottage, the locals had vehemently warned her against living here. The sirens were one of many non-human species native to Domhan na Rùin, but unlike the minotaurs of Mistreon or the vampires of Ichorna, they were not fond of humans. It was said the siren city lay far beneath the waves near here. Anyone with sense stayed far away. Well, anyone with sense and money.

Maura didn’t have the coin for anything but the little cottage she now called home. She didn't mind, though; she had yet to see any sign of vicious water-folk. Perhaps they had left off guarding these waters with the shores abandoned for so long.

As Maura hiked, clouds churned in the sky, mirroring the turbulent motion of the sea below. She was close enough to the cliffs that there was no point turning back. A little rain never hurt anyone.

Savoring the burn in her muscles from the rugged ascent to the clifftop, Maura finally reached her destination. From this vantage point, she could see for miles out to sea. This place was wild–and quiet in the way she needed quiet. As she stared out, committing the view to memory, fat drops of rain began to fall.

Water slowly coated the rocks she stood on, but she didn't move to leave. She stood on the very precipice of the cliff, feeling the thrill of the sea’s vastness before her. She let the rain soak into her clothes and delighted in its cold bite. She felt alive, like the water below was a part of her soul that she’d always been missing.

There was a sudden crack of thunder, its warning flash of lightning hidden in the roiling clouds, and her body jolted–forward. Right over the edge of the cliff. She was standing too close to the edge for such a sudden movement, though, and before she even truly felt what was happening, the sensation of falling registered in her mind.

The cliff where she’d been standing loomed above her, framed by the backdrop of the stormy sky, and grew more distant by the second. The sounds of restless surf grew louder as she fell, and everything she tried so hard not to think about spun through her panicked mind in an instant.

Her bakery. The smoke. The ash that was left behind. Her mother succumbing to the fading magic, her father's broken heart. Her midnight escape from her country, the only home she'd ever known. All the sadness and loss and loneliness, all at once, until the searing sting of cold took her under.

Chapter 2

Anatolius didn't feel likesinging that day. Storm clouds had rolled in, and the human he had been watching for the last month had hiked up to the cliff that jutted proudly above the rocky beach. A siren's song came from the heart; it was how they expressed their emotions. The effects on humans, however, were extreme. The sirens used the magical allure of their song to their advantage when needed, but from the moment Anatolius had seen her near the old fisherman's cottage, he had only been curious about her—he had no desire to lure her to her death.

Siren protocol demanded that anyone on patrol around their borders handle human threats efficiently and without remorse. This human undoubtedly would fall into this category, but he just…waited. And watched. He didn't know what to make of it, really. He had always thought their laws a bit harsh, but he'd never had a reason to violate them like this. The humans hadkept away from their coast for a long time—it hadn't been an issue.

Now, he watched the human as she stared out across the sea. Her dark brown curls caught the wind and danced behind her shoulders. Her brown skin was the only warmth in a landscape of blues and grays, the stormy light above casting her in a mystical glow.

Tiny ripples danced on the surface of the water– raindrops falling just above his head–and he hoped that the human would return to her cottage soon. Even he knew how slick the rocks could get in the rain.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, she was falling. For seconds that felt like an eternity, he watched her drifting toward the waves. Before he knew what he was doing, his body was moving.

He flicked his powerful tail and glided through the water. He saw her impact; her body, in such violent motion only a moment before, now eerily still as she floated in the water, weightless. The sea had given way to her with a great splash; now it silently wrapped her in its embrace. Anatolius knew she needed air to breathe, so he swam toward her, intent on taking her up to the surface. When he reached out to touch her, a flash of bronze light startled him, and he froze.

His panic shifted rapidly to confusion. A great brown otter floated in the water before him. It was much larger than a regular otter, but otherwise looked the same as the few he'd had occasion to see. They were mostly river creatures and didn't venture out into their sea.

It blinked, cocked its head, and observed him with keen, albeit frightened, eyes. Anatolius looked around him at the empty water and rising bubbles where the woman’s body had been, slowly realizing what had occurred, however unlikely. It must be, though; where else would the woman have gone? He hadheard tales of human shifters before. Could this woman be one of them?

He supposed he should just…ask.

"Hello, there. Are you…alright?" he asked, tone hesitant. A siren's voice was made to travel through water, and he'd spoken in the common tongue of Domhan na Rùin in the hopes this otter might understand. He couldn't believe he was trying to talk to an otter.

The otter considered him another moment before looking down to examine itself in a disturbingly human gesture. It looked back at him after a long moment, and without warning, flicked its lithe tail and swam for the surface.

Anatolius followed close behind and popped his head above the water along with the otter. The storm raged on, and the otter looked around as if searching for something.

"It's alright, you fell. From the cliff, up there? And you're…well, you're an otter now." Anatolius had done a lot of things in his life, but this might be the strangest thing yet.

The otter stared at him again before a lovely, albeit annoyed, voice drifted into his mind.Well, obviously I'm an otter, thank you so much for that astute observation.

Anatolius couldn't keep the shock from his face. She had just spoken directly into his mind. The Tuanadair of Beitar must have powerful magic, indeed. "I heard that," he said with a touch of indignance.

The otter whipped her head to face him.What?!

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