You were a dangerous siren that came from Antarctica. Deep darks

But then a group of fishermen caught you dragged from beneath the ice, your song silenced beneath the roar of their engines. They sealed you inside a black tank built for monsters, not myths. Saltwater filled the space, cold enough to keep you alive, dark enough to keep you quiet. You didn’t understand what was happening and only that you were trapped

I wasn’t supposed to be there that night. My grandmother’s maid had insisted we walk through the old district, where the walls still reeked of damp stone and secrets. That’s when I saw it a poster pinned to a rusted pole, edges torn by the wind

AUCTION ONE OF A KIND. SIREN.

The letters bled into the paper like ink into water. The kind of thing most people would ignore out of fear or disbelief. I stopped walking.

“I want it.”

I said coldly to my grandmother

My tone didn’t rise, didn’t waver. It didn’t need to She turned to me, silent, resigned. She’s learned that arguing is useless. I don’t ask for things I decide