The waves were rising and falling under the light of the moon, crashing onto the deck of the pier. White froth spilled onto a land unknown to Moria as the wind whistled an out of tune melody. The sea, untamed and rageful, sliced over the jagged rocks that lined the nearby shore.
It was a lonely night. A dark one. But Moria knew Haleth would come.
He always did.
Sliding off of the rock she was resting on, she slipped soundlessly into the dark waters below, letting the cool liquid sooth the deep green scales on her tail and whirl around the webbing of her fins. It was a risk coming this close to the shore—a risk daring to be this far from safety—but Moria didn’t care. She dove beneath the waves, gliding through the water as her eyes readjusted to the familiar darkness, until her hands found one of the wooden beams of the deck.
She would do anything for Haleth. Even if it meant risking her life.
Tilting her head back as a wave crashed over her, Mori let her long hair pool around her—a lily pad in a calm riverbank. She hoped desperately that Haleth would be able to see the seashells she had strung into her brunette stands, or the pink coral she had used to stain her lips. But his human eyes were far weaker than hers.
It’s alright, she thought to herself as she wrapped her tail around the underwater portion of the post. Haleth doesn’t care about appearances. Haleth loved her for her soul.
For your heart, he had said.
They met eight moons ago, at the very spot that Moria now waited. Haleth had been fishing for his family, a task she had watched him do for years, when he dropped a harpoon deep into the waters below. Moria had been hesitant at first—she knew better than to approach the humans of Vorsichian City. But there was something so pure and lovely about Haleth that made her swim deep into the depths to grab the metal stick and bring it before him. Of course he had been startled at first, but never once did Moria see fear in his eyes—let alone murder. How could he, so gentle and so kind, be anything like the humans her sisters had warned her about?
Haleth could never kill. He would never hurt her.
A giddy laugh rose to Moria’s lips and she flipped around in the water, letting her tail splash sparkles of the sea into the sky. Just thinking about him made her want to bounce with the fluorescent jellyfish of the Western Seas and leap with the dolphins of the Caribbean islands!
She could still remember the first time Haleth had kissed her. The feel of his lips against her own, the warmth of his hands running over her back…
A cloud floated over the moon, darkening the light that had been resting on Moria’s shoulders. Muffling her giggles, she ducked under the waves and returned to her position at the deck.
Yes, Haleth would come. Haleth always came. He was the perfect human, the perfect love. She only wished his father—the Old Fisherman—would approve. Haleth had expressed to her many times how those in Vorsichian City feared the Sirens of the Deep. That fear made their love fragile—dangerous, even. The Old Fisherman was no exception. Mori had seen him several times. He was cruel and paid little heed to the ocean below him. Always dumping his scraps and old tools into the waves, perhaps believing the sea was hungry for his waste.
But it was not!
Mori had spent weeks cleaning up the shallow shore that had been ravaged by the humans. She couldn’t possibly understand how Haleth survived watching those he loved destroy her home.
The very water around Mori began to blacken with the memory of her anger. Humans were foul and dangerous and horrible and mean—
But Haleth was an exception. Haleth was good.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound of footsteps on wood rang over the roar of the sea, snapping Moria back to the present. Her heartbeat quickened and she dove beneath the waves, letting only the top of head rest above. Was it Haleth? Was it someone else? She couldn’t tell from here. Would she be stupid to peer over the ledge to check? Would it be foolish?
“Moria!” a voice whispered. There was shuffling on the deck, a familiar rhythm to the movement. “Moria, are you there?”
Corals of every color bloomed in Moria’s heart.
She swam upwards, and with one powerful thrust of her magnificent tail, propelled herself into the air, landing deftly on the wood above. Her tail, glimmering green and silver under the moonlight, hung off the side. Her fins twirled in the darkness below.
Her heart melted at the sight of love.
Haleth had never told her how old he was, but even if Moria knew, she was certain she would still find a certain youthful beauty within his face. He was a boy of staggering height, with delicate hands and long, floating limbs. Blonde hair atop a head adorned with copper eyes and a too-easy smile – Moria nearly slid back into the sea when he reached a gentle hand to her face.
“Moria,” he mused, stroking back the strands of her hair. She ignored the sight of his small, stone house no more than twenty yards behind him, and the light within that should have been enough of a warning to flee. “I tried to come as soon as possible. But my father made me untangle our nets—”
Moria silenced him with a brief kiss, a brush on the lips. Haleth flinched, but she knew it was more so from the cold than the feel of her rough skin. “Not to worry,” she breathed. “Oh Haleth, how I’ve missed you!”
“I’ve missed you, too. But please, lower your voice—”
There was a strain on Haleth’s face that made Moria pull away. “Dearest, why do you fret? Why do you worry?”
Haleth swallowed tightly and sat on the deck nimbly. His hair bobbed up and down with the movement. On his back were layers and layers of wool fabrics, designed to keep him safe from the cold wrath of Moria’s home. “It’s my father. He’s suspicious of me.”
“Whatever for!”
“I come out here too often.”
Moria ran her hands through her hair, letting the sea drip from the ends. “But I rarely see you these days, my love.”
Haleth sighed and lifted his eyes. They were filled with an emotion Moria couldn’t decipher. “I know. But it’s unnatural. All of it.”
“Unnatural?”
“A Siren loving a human. What do you even see in me?”
Moria flipped over so that she was resting on her midsection, propping her head up with her elbows. A laugh rose to her lips and flew out before she could contain herself. “Oh Haleth. You’re so kind. So caring. You care about the sea and the Sirens within—”
“Father tells me I’ve got my head stuck in the clouds. That if I want to inherit the fishing business, I ought to start being realistic with my studies.” He straightened, eyes trailing over the back of Moria’s tail. Even though he had seen her endless times already, she was sure he still found the sight jarring. “That I ought to start focusing on what is real.”
The water around Moria’s fins grew colder. “But Haleth. I am real.” She reached a scaly hand to his own and held it tightly. He was warm to the touch. “I love you, Haleth.”
Could it be? Could he be doubting their romance? Moria didn’t want to assume such a thing, let alone believe it.
“And I love you,” Haleth said at last. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, wiping away beads of salty water that had accumulated around her brows. “We just have to be more careful from now on. Less obvious. I hope one day we can spend forever together.”
She nodded vigorously, relief filtering through her. “Of course, dearest.”
Haleth’s lips twisted into a slow smile. “There was something else I wanted to tell you, my darling Moria.”
“Please!” She lifted her fins out of the waters below, sending a sprinkle of water over them. Haleth laughed and dodged beneath his arms. “I was wondering,” he murmured, stroking her palms, “if you might like to show me your home sometime. I can take our boat out. You can lead me there.”
Moria twisted her head to the side, although she wasn’t sure if her surprise came from confusion or excitement.
“I would love to meet your sister Sirens. And see the Sea Kingdom of Arandi—”
All at once, Moria felt some sharp and prickly burn through her skin. She was suddenly blinded, suddenly falling and falling into the water below—
A net.
Moria cried out as she hit the waves, thrashing wildly, feeling her skin break and tear. No, no, no, no, no—
“Moria!” Haleth called from above, his voice distorted by the sea. “Moria! Hold on!”
She twisted violently, managing to pull her arms away, but her tail was stuck, latched into the holes of hte ne. Who—? What-–? Where—?
Her head broke the surface and she glanced up at the deck, confusion swarming her senses—
Haleth stood frozen. The Old Fisherman, an even taller, even larger man, stood behind him—harpoon in hand.
Moria’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces of silver. “No,” she cried, wailing into the night. “No!” It couldn’t be. Not Haleth! Not her one true love! Not the boy who had loved her so! She should have fled and swam away, but she couldn’t. Not when her very being was rooted to that deck. To him—
“Stand back, son!” the Old Fisherman shouted, raising the spear. “Sirens are dangerous! Stay back!”
“Moria!” Haleth cried, falling to his knees. “Swim away! Go! Save yourself! I didn’t mean for this to happen—”
The harpoon flew into the water, missing Moria by inches. The Old Fisherman swore and picked up another. “Get away, sea witch! Get away!”
Moria’s pulse quickened. Haleth wasn’t evil. Haleth wasn’t evil! He wasn’t evil! It was all his father—all his stupid, cruel, father’s fault—
She ducked under the roaring waves, letting her anger drown her, consume her, fuel her. It was his father who was corrupting him and poisoning him. It was his father who made him unsure of their love.
That stupid, stupid Old Fisherman.
She swam upwards just as his newest harpoon came barreling into the sea. It grazed the side of her tail and she cried out in pain, landing on the deck beside Haleth as thick, velvet blood pooled around her.
“Father, no!” Haleth roared. “Stop it—”
Moria had seconds to act. Seconds to decide. She was staring up at the moon, a bright white light she could choose to dissolve into if she wished. She could hear Haleth screaming, hear his father’s footsteps running back to their house, grabbing more metal. He was already coming back! With more poison and trash and waste to hurt her, to hurt her people, to hurt Haleth—
She pushed herself up on her hands and stared at her love. Brown eyes—eyes she had learned to love so dearly.
Moria grabbed him, balling his tunic up with her fists.
And dragged him into the sea.
She heard Haleth cry out as they hit the surface of the black waves; heard the Old Fisherman scream his name. But the second they entered the waters, her instincts kicked in. She swam as hard as she could, away away away, feeling harpoons slice through the water left and right as she barreled deeper into the sea, not once letting go of Haleth’s shoulders. They would be safe at a faraway shore! Safe from the Old Fisherman! Safe from filthy humans—
The net on her tail dug deeper and deeper into her scales, but she hardly noticed. Moria cut through water like it was air, moving at a speed unfathomable to those on land, swimming until night had passed. Until they were far away from the deck. Until she came to a familiar place—a small island she had discovered years ago under the light of a similar moon.
Swimming up to its surface, she slid onto the shore, hoisting Haleth onto the warm, familiar sand. She winced in pain as her tail came to a shuddering stop. The bleeding had barely stopped. Her wounds were harsh. Yet, despite the racing of her heart, despite the pain in mind, she couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. The sun, barely waking, turned the sea into a canvas of pinks and whites. Moria smiled gently, shifting her gaze to Haleth. He lay still, his eyes facing upwards at the beautiful, new sky.
“Dearest,” she whispered into his skin, “we are safe! I’ve saved you!”
He was still. She was just starting to notice how the color of his eyes were a little too gray. A little too white. She snuggled closer to him, letting the sand coat her scales. Oh how she wouldn’t mind spending the rest of her days here beside him!
“Haleth, dearest!” she said again, louder this time. She nudged him and he didn’t move. She blinked several times and pulled herself farther onto the shore.
His face was blue. Eyes glazed.
Moria’s heart fell to the deepest part of the sea.
No.
The breath left her body.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no—
“Haleth?” she whispered, shaking him. “Haleth? Please—”
He was dead. Dead. Drowned. Dead—
“Haleth! Please! ” she wailed, clawing at his face, tearing at his skin. “Haleth! Haleth, my love!”
She was supposed to be saving him from his monstrous father! Saving him from a human fate! “Haleth!” she weeped, crying tears that were fire against her skin. She pressed her lips to his but they were cold. Not warm like she remembered. Not warm like were only hours ago—
“Haleth,” she sobbed, throwing herself onto his chest. She pressed her lips again and again to his, harder and harder each time, hoping by some magic he would wake. “H-Haleth!” She screamed into the sky until her throat was in shreds. Until she could barely make a sound. She slammed her hands into the sand, sending chunks of it flying about. “T-this is all my fault!” she croaked. “This is all my fault—”
No.
She hesitated in her agony, letting guilt stream down her skin.
No. It wasn’t her fault.
It was the Old Fisherman’s fault.
It was his fault.
She wiped her tears. Her tail, once green, was turning deep black, stained by the poison in her veins.
She glanced at Haleth’s lifeless body. She retched.
It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault. If that cruel Old Fisherman had just let them be! If he had just simply let them love! Anger consumed her. Its tentacles wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer and closer to the sea.
The Old Fisherman. It was the Old Fisherman’s fault.
She dove back into the ocean, ignoring the stream of blood she left in her wake, listening to only the symphony of her swelling pain in her mind.
The Old Fisherman. It was the Old Fisherman’s fault.
She swam faster than she ever had before, heading all the way back to that deck where Haleth had kissed her for the first time all those moons ago. She would come back for his body—she would come back to kiss him once more.
It was the Old Fisherman’s fault. It was the Old Fisherman’s fault.
She would care for him. She would tend to his decaying body.
But first, Moria screamed into the sea, an evil, rageful song erupting from her core.
But first, she had a human to kill.