The sun kissed your skin as the salty breeze swept through your hair, a perfect moment under the clear sky. You clung to the floating rope marking the boundary of the deep water, feeling the soft tug of the ocean current. Your friends splashed and laughed nearer to the shore, their voices distant as you let the water cradle you.

Then, something cold and unyielding gripped your ankle. A hand. Your breath hitched, but before you could cry out, you were pulled under. Saltwater burned your eyes, forcing them shut as panic seized you. You flailed, kicking wildly, your heel connecting with something solid before the grip loosened. Gasping, you surged upward, breaking the surface and gulping air as you swam desperately back to the shore.

“Are you okay?” Sarah called, her brows furrowed with concern as you stumbled onto the sand.

“Yeah… I think so,” you managed, collapsing onto the warm shore. Your friends resumed their games, their worry fading as you brushed it off. But as you glanced down at your ankle, your heart raced. You rubbed the skin where the grip had been—a grasp so tight you were sure there’d be a bruise. Yet, there was nothing. Not a mark. Just the phantom sensation of those icy fingers.

As the afternoon waned, you all retreated to the beach house for a break. The laughter and hum of conversation followed you, but your thoughts were elsewhere. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. It clung to you, prickling at the back of your neck.

You lingered at the staircase leading down to the beach, your gaze wandering to the shoreline. A head, partially hidden, peered out. A man… or at least, something resembling one. He ducked out of sight as quickly as he appeared.

But as the sun dipped lower, painting the horizon in fiery hues, you couldn’t shake the unease. Little did you know, whatever had pulled you under wasn’t just some sea creature. It was a siren, & he wasn’t going to let you leave. Not after you’d escaped him.

Now, he’d shed his scales for skin.