the siren's call | felix lee

prologue

"Be careful, (Y/N)!" your grandmother called, craning her neck to get a better view of you bobbing up and down in the water.

"I'm fine, Gran!" you yelled back, flapping your arms and splashing around. The ocean water was salty on your lips, making them sting slightly, but you loved it. There was nothing like the sea, and even though most people tended to stay away from the water, you felt almost drawn to it.

"Don't go out too far, you know it's dangerous!" your grandmother shouted. She stood far back on the sandy shore, away from the waves. She was too afraid to even dip her toes into the water, and for the silliest reasons, you thought. "You're drifting too far!" she said, an edge to her voice. "Start swimming back right now!"

"I'm coming!" you said, rolling your eyes. "I'm not even far from the sand. I'm fine," you muttered under your breath. But as you tried to swim to shore, the current got stronger and stronger, pushing you further away from the water every time you attempted to kick your legs to propel yourself forwards. Your heart started beating faster as you realized every attempt you made to get back to shore just pushed you further out to sea. "Gran!" you shouted, "I can't swim back!" Your grandmother was pacing the shore now, clearly trying to gather up the courage to dive in and get you. But she hesitated, jumping back as a particularly strong wave washed up against the sand, kissing the pointed toes of her shoes.

"(Y/N)! Please come back!" she said, clutching her chest, "I can't come get you!"

You kicked even harder, but your legs were getting more and more tired by the second, and you felt your arms starting to give out. You tried to call out to her again, but your head dipped under the water as you opened your mouth and salty, cold liquid sluiced through your nostrils and filled your throat, making you gag. You started sinking as your legs froze up, flapping your arms desperately to try and get your head above the water again, but it was useless. You were continuing to sink at an alarming rate, the bright sky fading fast as you fell further and further. You felt your lungs burning and your vision going blurry as you couldn't take a breath, and black spots started overtaking your sight. This must be it, you thought, oddly calm. I'm going to drown.

But right before your vision cut out completely, a flash of purple came into view, and you felt something strong wrap around your waist and start dragging you roughly. Your head cut through the surface of the water, and you continued to be dragged by this force, barely conscious. Your head flopped from side to side as you struggled to stay awake, feeling waterlogged and half-dead.

The next thing you knew, you felt a stinging on your cheek, and you clapped a hand to it, immediately trying to soothe the area. "Oh, thank goodness you woke up," your grandmother said, her voice high-pitched with worry. "I had to slap you to wake you, I'm so sorry dear." You blinked, the warm sunlight washing over your body and giving you minimal strength back. But it was enough to allow you to sit up. You propped yourself up on your elbows, leaning back as your vision blurred. Your feet were still in the water, gentle waves washing up against them. The water looked so clear and pretty, such a contrast from the depths that you had just been in. It looked so innocent, when it was quite the opposite.

"What happened?" you asked, scooting further back on the shore, wary of the water now that you had nearly drowned.

"You started panicking," your grandmother said tearfully, "I wanted to come help you, but your head disappeared under the water and I thought I'd lost you. On your birthday, nonetheless! Your parents would have killed me!"

"How did I get back here?"

"You seemed to swim back by yourself," she said, voice suddenly stiff.

"No, I remember," you said, rubbing your stinging eyes. "There was something purple. A tail. It was a purple tail."

"You must be sick in the head after what happened," she said shrilly, wrapping you in a warm, dry cloth. "You're talking nonsense!"

"No, I really saw it! A purple tail! It must have been a mermaid that saved me!"

"(Y/N), you listen to me," she said, grabbing you by the front of your swim suit, "do not ever speak of what you saw. Never. If word gets out that there are really sirens..." She paused here to shudder, squeezing her eyes shut as tight as she could, "well, everything will... crumble."

"What do you mean? Why?"

"It's just a myth," she said seriously, opening her eyes again, "nothing more. Got it?"

"I still don't get why we can't talk about mermaids," you said stubbornly.

She grabbed you roughly by the shoulders, eyes misty and far-away. "Do you know why I have this?" she hissed, pulling off her scarf to reveal a long, jagged scar on her neck, white and puckered. The scar tissue was taut and lumpy, a contrast from the surrounding wrinkled, yet smooth skin.

"A mermaid did that?" you asked, a chill running up your spine.

"You're lucky that didn't happen to you," she said, re-tying her scarf. "We will never speak of this again. Understood?"

"Yes," you said quickly, disturbed at the large, uneven scar. It was no wonder why she always wore something around her neck.

"Good." She held out her hand for you to take, which you did, albeit somewhat hesitantly. "If word got out that sirens were real, the kingdom would fall apart anyways," she mumbled, "everyone would come to see and hunt the sirens, and our town would flourish, but only while our waters are still populated with the damned creatures. The same downfall can't happen again."

"The downfall?"

"History always repeats itself," she whispered to you, tugging on her scarf again. "I would know that better than anyone."

You looked behind your shoulder just once to take one last look at the sea. It was still shimmering in the sunlight innocently, but instead of admiring it like you usually would, it was menacing, the sparkling water seeming to wink at you knowingly. You turned around immediately, feeling unsafe, even though you were now a good distance from the waves.

"Come," said your grandmother, pulling you gently, "let's go back home. You still have some presents to open, hm?"