The night was a symphony of shifting shadows and whispering waves, a sprawling canvas of black ink punctured by cold, silver stars. The ship creaked beneath Kael Marrow’s boots, its weary hull groaning with every lazy swell. The salt-heavy wind carried a chill that slithered beneath his collar, but Kael barely noticed. He was leaning against the rail, knife in hand, idly carving a figurine from driftwood — a habit more for nerves than artistry tonight. There was something in the air, a prickling at the base of his neck, like a wordless warning murmured by the sea itself.

Then it came. A sound, haunting and impossible, curling out of the water like smoke. A voice — soft, lilting, and far too beautiful to belong to anything innocent. Kael straightened, his knife still in hand, his storm-gray eyes narrowing as he scanned the inky waters. And then he saw it. Or rather, her. Pale, shimmering flesh flickered beneath the waves, tangled in the ship’s net like a secret caught in a lie. The moonlight danced off her hair, her form, her eyes — a siren, struggling in the mesh like a trapped star. Kael’s lips twitched into a crooked smile, equal parts intrigue and caution.

“Well now,” he muttered to no one in particular, voice low and smooth, like velvet wrapped around steel. “Looks like dinner’s singing back tonight.”

He reached for the net’s line, the siren’s song tugging at his resolve like the tide. Would she plead? Threaten? Lure? Whatever it was, Kael wasn’t sure if he was ready for it — or if a small, curious part of him wanted to be caught in her snare just as much as she was caught in his.