Page 8 of From the Mouths of Sirens

The city was dark now, the last rays of sunlight disappearing below the horizon. The only lights that flickered through the dark streets of Kellam were the undying flames at every corner. Saoirse’s eyes burned, filling with hot tears of anger. She pushed upward, leaving the city in her wake. She swam through the beautiful dome that enclosed the city, slipping through one of the open windows and into the cool sea above. As she rose to the surface, more moonbeams cut through the water and cast ripples of silver through the ocean.

She pushed to the surface, kicking hard as the Maeral Sea tethered her below. The ocean clung to her, pulling at her body with hunger as she continued to rise. But she resisted the imprisoning waves, her muscles burning as she strained against her father’s entrapment.

Saoirse burst through the surface, sending silver droplets scattering across the waves. She gasped as her lungs filled with the dry air of the world above. She choked and sputtered, the foreign wind drying her throat and mouth almost instantly. With her head above the surface, she could feel the pull of the ocean tethering her in place. It took all of her effort to resist its pull, her legs burning as she fought against the invisible chains that held her down. A huge wave rose up before her like a wall, pouring over her head. Again and again, the waves continued to rise and push her back below the surface, forcing her down every time she tried to keep her head above the water. Like a living entity, the Maeral Sea stood between her and the surface like a soldier guarding its prisoner.

Saoirse sank back below the waves in defeat, finally inhaling the seawater her lungs craved. She drank in the warped night sky above her, a crystal veil of waves sending ripples across the stars. She would never leave the hold of the Sea, not with her father turned against her.

The waves began to churn with her fury, building momentum like a vengeful maelstrom on the horizon. The water swirled as it sensed her rise of emotions, beginning to form a whirlpool. But no matter how enraged she became, her powers could never rival those of her father’s.

“I will win this Tournament,” she vowed to the stars above. “I will change the fate of Elorshin. I will break the curse.” She would not grovel before the sandaled-feet of the Aura. She would not remain hidden, cowering in the Maeral Sea while Aurandel forced her people into submission.

She would fight.

Breaking away from the view of the velvet-dark sky, she dove down into the depths of the Maeral Sea, fresh determination coursing through her veins. The harsh pull of the ocean relented as she dove back down, seemingly satisfied as she descended back into its watery hold once more.

Saoirse swam towards the great library at the center of Kellam Keep, where all the knowledge of the known world was housed. If she would find any information on the Tournament, it would be there.

The streets surrounding the elegant library were completely empty. Eight towering pillars of marble sat guarding the entrance of the library like stone giants. Saoirse entered the silent hall, her eyes scanning the four levels that housed thousands upon thousands of books. The halls were completely still, no other Mer in the building at such a late hour. Shafts of moonlight drifted in from the enormous skylight, casting beams of silver through the shadowy halls. Sconces of undying flames cracked on the walls, ice-cold and bright. Saoirse drifted upward through the water, passing each level of the library with quiet stealth.

In the wan blue light, the fourth floor looked haunting with its hundreds of dark isles and hidden alcoves. Sinewy vines and carpets of algae covered most of the shelves, broken by patches of coral and sea grass waving in the gentle current. Staring down at her, ancient volumes and archaic texts sat preserved on the shelves, all protected by enchantments to keep them dry. Although the books were completely submerged in water, they never dampened or deteriorated thanks to various spells cast upon them.

Saoirse ran her fingers along their spines, searching for any books on the Tournament and the history of Elorshin. She selected a few promising volumes, clutching them against her chest as she hurried to a hidden alcove covered in shadow. Tucking herself against a cushioned chair, she began to read. She poured over the pages, flipping as she scanned every chapter. She searched for any loopholes or exceptions to the trials, any hidden rules that might allow her to bypass her father’s unbending will. But even as Saoirse searched, she knew it was hopeless. No one could overcome the sea king’s might. Not even her. Sighing, Saoirse kept flipping as her eyes grew weary in the dim light.

She stopped on a page that depicted a beautiful woman. Saoirse stared at the brilliant white wings that unfurled from the woman’s shoulders, knowing exactly who she was. She was Princess Yrsa of Aurandel, the one who had betrayed her great uncle a hundred years ago. She scanned the page opposite of the image, reading as it discussed how Yrsa had been sent by Aurandel on a secret assignment. The Auran Princess tricked the king into marrying her and used dark magic to transform herself into a Mer, sacrificing her wings as a show of devotion to him. Residing in Kellam as his bride, Yrsa fed information to Aurandel about the Mer’s coastal trade and spied on their military movements. She secretly oversaw Auran raiding parties, watching from afar as her soldiers destroyed Mer storehouses and trading posts. Elorshin began to starve, their trading routes demolished and their weapons broken.

Saoirse flipped the page, knowing what came next. King Lorsan discovered his wife’s treachery and sought to send Yrsa back to her own people, grief stricken and betrayed. But before she was arrested, Yrsa murdered her husband in cold blood. Lorsan’s brother Isandros became king and oversaw Yrsa’s extradition back to Aurandel. But Aurandel never admitted to what they had done, choosing to let Yrsa take the fall as a lone agent. Her own people sentenced her to the gallows, framing Lorsan and the rest of the Mer for her death. All of Revelore came to the Aurandel’s aid, declaring war against the Mer without question.

Saoirse tore her eyes away, unable to read the gruesome details of the War of the Age that followed. She didn’t need to read further. She knew the story well. It was the story of her people, the story of her own family.

“You won’t find the answers you seek in there,” a voice broke through the silence.

Saoirse nearly jumped out of her chair at the sound. She slammed the book closed, tucking it onto a shelf before the hidden figure could see. High Elder Adda Carew stepped out from the shadows, her purple robes billowing as she drifted over to Saoirse’s alcove.

“I know what you’re doing here,” the woman said. “You’re trying to find a way out of your father’s orders.”

“I would never go against my father’s will,” Saoirse retorted.

“You can be candid with me, Princess. I know you are disappointed in his decision. No one has ever stolen from Kaja and lived to tell the tale.” A smile of admiration unfurled on Adda’s lips. “Only a very determined Mer could ever summon the courage to even try. And moreover, no one who found a dark Málmr pearl would give up so easily. Especially one with so much to lose.”

“What should I do?” Saoirse asked, looking up at the woman warily. “My father has turned the Sea against me, and I cannot leave.”

“The Elders chose you, Princess Saoirse,” Adda said slowly, her eyes glittering. “I will do whatever it takes to ensure that you compete in the Revelore Tournament. You will bring Elorshin glory; I am sure of it.”

“While your support is appreciated,” Saoirse began, rising from her chair, “no one can stand up to my father.” She left the alcove and drifted down the row of bookshelves.

“There is one who possesses powers greater than those of your father,” Adda whispered carefully, watching her with a hawk-like gaze.

Saoirse stilled. It wasn’t possible. Her father would never allow such a threat to exist in Elorshin; not when their enemies sought chinks in their armor and weaponized their weaknesses against them. It was hard to imagine that anyone could have powers rivalling her father’s. If Aurandel knew that there was someone in Elorshin who was more powerful than King Angwin… Saoirse shuddered at the thought.

“Impossible. You must be mistaken.”

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong,” Adda replied, gently taking Saoirse’s elbow.

The woman led her down the staircase, passing under cool shafts of moonlight that drifted through the skylight of the library. “The King does not know of her existence,” the High Elder explained. “She resides in the Fretum. In a place much worse than Kaja’s Trench.”

Saoirse’s mind began to race. She had read about the treacherous depths of the Fretum and its notorious black waves that were as dark and opaque as wet ink. She’d been told of the horrid beasts and ravenous sea creatures that lived within the haunting abyss, contained there by an ancient wall that was built by her ancestors. It was a cursed prison that no one dared enter.

“No one could ever live in such a place,” Saoirse breathed. “No one could survive there.”

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