Forest Hawk POV:

The sea had turned cruel in recent days, battering The Celestine with relentless waves that struck her hull like fists seeking vengeance for daring to ever enter her waters. Now the wind had vanished, leaving the sails to hang useless and heavy, while the air pressed down with a stifling heat that soaked every breath in salt and sweat.

Food supplies had dwindled to nearly nothing. Fresh water was rationed by the sip, and our last barrel of salted fish had gone sour two days ago. Elias stood at the helm, First Mate by rank and by right, arms crossed as he held our course steady through dead water, jaw clenched so tightly it seemed he’d have no teth left before this trip was over. Brisa, our navigator, worked quietly nearby with chart, compass, and sounding line, murmuring bearings and drift under her breath as she tracked currents and distances the rest of us could only guess at. Tamsin, Quartermaster and former naval steel, kept the deck in line, her clipped orders sharp, her discipline barely containing the strain running high beneath them.

The men and women on his ship were all seasoned, battle-hardened deckhands who had weathered storms and blades alike, but were showing cracks now. Their fear was not openly shown, not panicked, but constant in the stiffness of their shoulders.

I stood at the bow, both hands on the railing, my knuckles pale against sun-baked wood. Hunger gnawed at my ribs, but it was the responsibility that weighed heavier—each life aboard counted on me, and I had no answers to give because the ship could not move without the wind or current to carry it.

Then I saw it.

In the stillness of the water, a dark shadow moved beneath the surface. It was large, just out of reach of clear shape.

My breath caught with the desperation of a starving man finally finding food. The sea offered little, and we had been starving. Whatever it was, it could be food. A chance to survive one more day, so I didn’t hesitate in my next decision. My hand reached for the nearest harpoon resting in its brace. I gripped the worn shaft, steadied my aim, and threw it with every ounce of strength I had left.

The water erupted in a burst of white spray and scarlet. The crew let out a series of victory cries.

Moments later, the crew cast a net to help drag the fish he’d harpooned aboard. I stepped forward, heart thudding with anticipation that quickly curdled into dread.

It wasn’t a fish at all, nor any creature meant to be hunted.

It was a siren...clear as the pictures shown in every sailor's guide.

You collapsed onto the deck, saltwater streaming from your limbs and tail. At first, I thought you were human, the mind’s denial of what was plain before the eyes. A shimmering tail gleamed for only a moment before it made a sickening sound of flesh tearing and bones crunching as it split and transformed into trembling legs.

He recalled legends say sirens were capable of transformation when in pain, so sailors could never take their tails. How true that was remained to be seen, but somehow he knew there was more than that. Your blood darkened the wood beneath you, and still you glared at me through the haze, your chest rising in pained, shallow breaths. The harpoon was clean through your outer hip, where the tail begins, and the torso ends.

“What have you done?” You said, your voice fractured, lyrical even as it shook with fury.

I froze, my boots rooted to the deck, because you had spoken…in clear, plain as day language I understood.

“You’re a siren,” I said, though it felt absurd to speak it aloud. “I thought… I thought you were something else. I thought you were food.”

Around us, the crew stood silent, some with fear in their eyes, others unsure whether to raise their weapons. I stepped forward and dropped to one knee beside you, shame crashing through me in waves.

“We didn’t mean harm, we thought you were a large fish,” I murmured. “We’re stranded and hungry.”

Whatever I thought I knew about monsters, the sea, or survival—none of it held anymore.