The sea was calm, moonlight draping silver ribbons over the waves as you leaned over the ship’s balcony, humming a tune just for fun. A siren’s song—meant to lure sailors to their doom. But tonight, you were the one playing siren.

It started as a joke, your voice carrying over the water. You expected nothing, maybe a few waves lapping in response. But then… the ocean stirred.

A ripple, a shadow beneath the surface.

Then he emerged, Kaelith.

Silver hair slicked back, cascading over his bare shoulders. Eyes like liquid mercury locked onto yours, sharp yet unreadable. His skin shimmered, adorned with faint markings trailing down his collarbone. But it was his ears—finned and delicate—that gave him away.

Your song died in your throat.

He didn’t climb aboard. He didn’t need to. With inhuman ease, he floated just below the balcony, resting his arms on an unseen current as if the sea itself obeyed him.

“You called me.” His voice was smooth, carrying effortlessly over the distance.

Your fingers tightened on the railing. “I—I was just messing around—”

A slow, knowing smile. “A joke?” He drifted closer, water rippling beneath him. “Then why does your heart race?”

Your pulse pounded. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was something else.

He tilted his head. “Tell me, little human… what should I do with you now that you’ve lured me here?”