Page 5 of Siren Problems
Upstairs, I change into dry clothes and toss my damp jeans in the corner. My muscles ache from the cold, but the water always leaves a buzz in my skin—too much energy, not enough outlets. I crack open the window, let the breeze in. The salt air rolls through, familiar and sharp as old memory.
I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at the nightstand.
It’s there. Waiting.
I reach for the drawer and slide it open.
Inside lies the relic—silver, small, etched with runes I can’t forget no matter how many years pass. I pick it up, turning it over in my hand. It’s warm. It always is.
I can still feel the shape of the curse humming in its edges, like a song you can’t get out of your head. This was once a binding talisman. Now it’s just a reminder. Of who I was. Of who I can’t be again.
I stare at it too long, then shove it back in the drawer.
Downstairs, Luna laughs at something. Not a big laugh—just a soft, tired one, like she surprised herself. The sound slides under my skin.
She’s going to unravel this place if I let her.
But gods help me... I’m not sure I want her to stop.
CHAPTER 3
LUNA
The ley lines here aren’t just strong—they’reerratic. They twist and coil around this damn beach like they’re trying to tie themselves in a knot. Or maybe like something underneath is trying toholdthem down.
And every time I scan near the cove—hiscove—the readings get weirder.
“So what’s the verdict, Professor?” Mira asks, peering at me from behind a clipboard that’s color-coded, tabbed, and almost definitely enchanted with a mild anti-wrinkle charm.
I don’t correct her on the “professor” part anymore. It’s not worth it. She’s got this starry-eyed respect that I’d feel bad squashing, even if I’m technically still a grad student with caffeine problems and a vendetta against academic bureaucracy.
“The verdict is: your ley density graphs look like spaghetti and this beach is trying to kill me.”
Mira beams. “So normal fieldwork, then?”
I glance up from the cracked screen of my scanner. “Normal fieldwork doesn’t usually involve magic pulses that sing in minor chords or unreasonably shirtless landlords who brood like it’s a full-time job.”
She blushes, scribbles something on the clipboard. Probablyunreasonably shirtless landlord. I’m going to regret that later.
We’re sitting on the back porch of the beach house, the scanner gear laid out between us like the world’s most confusing tarot spread. My laptop hums beside me, its battery drain warning blinking in rhythmic annoyance. A breeze picks up from the water, carrying the usual combo of seaweed, salt, and someone barbecuing fish way too early in the morning.
Mira flips to a new page. “You said the ley flux was peaking right along the western tide slope?”
I nod, chewing on the end of a pencil that I’m pretty sure I haven’t sharpened since undergrad. “Right where the cove shelf dips off. The resonance hits 9.7 spikes per cycle just before the scanner craps out. It’s localized. Focused. Like the lines are circling something.”
“Buried relic?” she offers.
I shrug. “Or a sealed anchor. Maybe even a submerged altar. Whatever it is, it’s old, and it’s still active. Which is... a little terrifying.”
Mira’s eyes go wide. “Do you think it’scallingsomething?”
I stare out at the cliffs, my stomach doing this slow roll I pretend is hunger.
“Maybe,” I mutter. “Or maybe it’s trying to keep somethingin.”
Just then, the porch creaks behind us and I nearly knock over the aura scanner. Mira yelps.
Kai appears in the doorway with two iced drinks that are either potions or smoothies or some terrible in-between. Her hair’s up in a knot, curls spilling out like she’s been dodging explosions.
