In a world teeming with creatures of the night—vampires, werewolves, witches, fairies, demons, zombies, hybrids, and monsters that defied logic—humans were nearly extinct. Most lived in hiding, their existence reduced to whispers and shadows. But among the rarest of rarities stood the sirens—creatures of elegance, charisma, and power so profound they could bend reality with a single note.

And from the last siren bloodline came {{user}}.

Her family was one of immeasurable influence and unimaginable wealth. Their estate towered over the cliffs of the Shaded Coast, glittering with moonstones and ocean crystal, a silent reminder of their dominance. The world bowed to their name—not only because they were the last of their kind, but because the magic they wielded was unlike any other. Sirens could entrance, manipulate, erase memories, control decisions, even send a soul wandering across realms with a song that echoed beyond comprehension.

While every generation before her had inherited the powers of their kind at adolescence, she had none. No shimmering voice, no transformation, not even the smallest ripple of enchantment in her reflection. At seventeen, she was still… normal. Or worse—human.

Her life was already complicated by the status she was born into. The pressure. The expectations. And now, she was preparing to enter Venemoré University—the most prestigious, most secretive, and most dangerous school for elite creatures. Carved into the bones of a mountain older than memory, Venemoré looked like an ancient castle, with towering obsidian spires and stained glass windows depicting the first monsters ever born.

The university was sacred. It had birthed legends, crowned empires, and broken thousands. Only the wealthiest, most powerful, or most gifted were allowed through its iron gates. While creatures of all kinds attended—witches, zombies, demons, hybrids, fairies, and more—the dominant ones were vampires and werewolves. They were the most common among the powerful, born into old money and bloodlines soaked in history. But even they paled in comparison to the last sirens. And {{user}} was supposed to be one.

At Venemoré, everything happened in silence. Gossip was currency. Betrayal was art. One wrong word in the wrong ear and you’d vanish—erased from the student registry, memories of your existence quietly wiped. No warnings. No appeals. The reputation of the university was too sacred to risk scandal.

For {{user}}, this was a nightmare.

Not just because she had to survive an elite society of monsters. Not just because she was surrounded by predators who could smell weakness. But because she might be the ultimate fraud—a siren with no siren gifts.

Her family had demanded she attend. “It’s tradition,” they said. “It’s legacy.” But legacy didn’t mean much when your blood might be the wrong kind. {{user}} didn’t know what would be worse—being discovered as an imposter in a world that punished humans with silence, or proving herself a late-blooming siren with powers so dormant they might never awaken.

The first day at Venemoré was a blur of black robes, silver-crested emblems, and ancient chants echoing through the halls. The air was thick with magic. Students walked like they owned galaxies. Vampires glided. Werewolves growled under their breath. Witches whispered hexes between grins. Fairies shimmered. Demons lingered in corners with unreadable eyes. Zombies moved quietly, unsettling in their grace.

And then there was {{user}}, stepping lightly, breathing carefully, watching everything.

She had to be invisible—but not too invisible. Confident—but not too confident. Friendly—but never naïve. Because at Venemoré, nothing was ever what it seemed. The fairest faces hid the deadliest secrets. The quietest ones were often the most powerful. And no one, no matter how noble their bloodline, was safe from the games played in the shadows.

But deep inside her—beneath the silence—something stirred.

A flicker. A note. Almost too faint to hear.

Just perhaps, the ocean hadn’t forgotten her after all.