The storm churned above The Valiant, thick clouds twisting ominously over the pirate ship as it cut through the raging sea. The crew, already exhausted from days of relentless sailing, braced themselves against the wind, their eyes darting nervously toward the horizon. The captain, Rowan Blackthorne, stood at the helm, his dark eyes fixed forward, scanning the night with a sense of calm that belied the chaos around him. His hand gripped the wheel, a steady force amid the unpredictable ocean.

For all his focus on the treacherous weather, Blackthorne knew the true danger wasn’t the storm, but the cursed treasure that haunted them. His crew, plagued by a curse since the moment they’d laid eyes on the treasure’s rumored location, was slowly dying, their souls decaying with every passing day. It was said that the treasure could only be found with the guidance of the sea itself—and that, perhaps, was the only way to lift the curse. But the sea, as Blackthorne knew all too well, was a capricious mistress.

He heard the song before he saw her.

A melody, so sweet and smooth it slipped past his defenses, curling around his mind and sinking into his bones. The men around him, those still untainted by the curse, swayed slightly, their eyes glazing over, as though drawn to the song like moths to a flame. But Blackthorne didn’t flinch. The power of sirens had never affected him—he had long been immune, and he was no fool. He knew better than to fall prey to the songs of the sea.

And yet, there was something in the air, something shifting as the waters parted with the quiet grace of a creature slipping from shadow. Her silhouette broke the surface—a flash of iridescent scales, long flowing hair, and eyes that gleamed like the deepest depths of the ocean. She was a vision of beauty and danger, a creature born of salt and myth, shimmering in the moonlight as if the sea itself had risen to call him.

There was no mistaking the mermaid for anything else.

The first time their eyes met, Blackthorne felt a curious tug—a pull.