Page 12 of Siren's Treasure

“Lower the drawbridge!” Circe’s command cracked through the air like a whip.

The ancient chains groaned as the bridge descended. Each link was as thick as Raggon’s arm, inscribed with runes that pulsed with a sickly green light. The heavy planks were scarred and stained dark—he wasn’t sure if that was water damage, or something worse.

He stifled an inward groan. His home had become a fortress for war, not the haven he once knew.

Raggon’s mangled countrymen marched him across the bridge—it swayed slightly beneath their weight. A deep rumble echoed from the moat, sending tremors beneath his feet. He froze, noticing his guards had done the same. Something odd watched them beneath the bridge’s supports, and then it moved, breaking the water’s surface with scales flashing like wet obsidian, rippling underneath in a serpentine shape, and then it was gone.

The palace had become a place of no escape. And yet, his mind—treacherous thing that it was—still plotted out the possibilities. Nothing could keep him here!

They entered the great hall, and Raggon’s stomach lurched. The court he remembered, with its elegant marble floors andshimmering tapestries, had been transformed into a witch’s lair. Circe no longer hid her true nature in the belly of her castle.

Broken glass crunched beneath their boots. Spilled potions left dark stains across the floor. More dark splatters. The woman couldn’t stop staining the upholstery with her violence. Bottles of unknown contents lined makeshift shelves, their contents glowing with sputtering lights or writhing shadows.

Circe lifted her stiff skirts and scuttled through the chaos like a spider moving through her web. The comparison became more apt as she ascended to her blood-red throne, perched upon a dias that had once held his father’s seat of power. The woman was a deadly black widow.

And she demanded to marry him? Sure, that would turn out well…for her.Every part of him raged out to him in warning. Her billowing cloak settled around her, and once again, Raggon noticed the strange way it bunched at her back. The witch most definitely hid something grotesque beneath its folds.

Her beasts shoved Raggon into the center of the room. Broken glass bit into the knees of his leather boots when they forced him to kneel like a craven sea dog. “Careful,” Raggon told them, forcing dark humor into his voice—nothing else could stop his skin from crawling. “You don’t want to set off her traps.”

“Naughty… you’ve always been a naughty, naughty man.” Circe’s lower lip drooped in an exaggerated pout. The expression might have been comical if not for the predatory gleam in her eyes. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere since I discovered you yet breathed. Why hide from me, Raggon? I need you; I want you. I can’t live without you.”

The sarcasm in her voice was customary in his trade—he’d heard it often enough in port taverns. But coming from someone with her power, it sent ice through his veins. Her sudden attention had nothing to do with affection.

He steadied himself before speaking, careful not to show how the manacles already made his wrists ache. “Cut line, Circe. What is it you want?”

“A dagger actually,” she said, her lips widening unnaturally. “Kind of you to inquire.”

His father’s? Raggon’s heart clenched at the thought. “You should’ve asked more nicely for it. Now it’s lying on the bottom of the sea. But send your best divers, I’m sure Poseidon won’t mind your poking around his territory.”

“Poseidon? Bah! There will be no interference from him. He’s dying,” Circe’s words hit him like a physical blow, and unbidden, his mind flashed to fiery hair and midnight black eyes. Was this why the merfolk had worked with a Land Witch? “Oh, you didn’t know?” Her pleased tone showed how she savored his shock. “And I’m not looking for some stupid dagger from your father—I’m talking about Undine’s Blade!”

What was she blabbering about? Yes, the Undine’s curse was the tale of how the Sylphorian’s royal powers came to be… but this dagger she spoke of? “You want something from a fairytale,” he snapped.

“You fool! The blade is real, and now thathe’sdying…” Her crimson lips curved into a cruel smile, “the sea no longer guards us from the enchanted weapon. You will fetch this dagger from the heart of the Undine Isles for me.”

She was mad! And he was in no position to fight her. He shifted, the sound of his jingling manacles echoing in the vast chamber. What was it that she’d trapped him with—a Typhon’s Kiss? The name sparked something in his memory, and his eyes traced the strange material, really seeing it for the first time. His breath caught at what she’d done. These were the forbidden metals of old sea-magic—dark iron that seemed to drink in the light, and a lighter metal that shimmered like seafoam, bound together in an intricate tapestry of frozen waves.

His father’s lessons rushed back to him: the lighter sea steel was used to bind creatures of the deep, to drain their magic until nothing remained. But the dark iron… his gaze darted to the beasts. That was the metal of transformation, the cursed element that turned men into monsters.

Already the combination drained him, pulling at his magic and weakening him. Behind him, the heavy breathing of the monstrous guards rasped like waves on gravel, a constant reminder of his fate if these bonds weren’t broken.

“In return for this treasure, we will reunite our countries in peace,” Circe continued, rising from her throne with unnatural grace. “Your hand will be joined with mine in matrimony and we will quit these tiresome wars.”

That threat again? And how long would she let him live after this happy occasion… or would she force him to sire children for her first, steal the royal Sylphorian blood to gain their powers in her line?

Disgusting thought.

He vied for time, trying to play along. “Why put me to this task? I doubt it’s my charm.”

Circe tilted her head, the movement too sharp. “My sister and I are of one mind on this.”

Her sister? Scylla and Circe were never of one mind on anything. The danger of such a twisted alliance hummed through his veins, though surely this was a trick?

“The dark waters have whispered of your success at getting this dagger,” Circe continued. “The fortunes have spoken. You will serve me by bringing in this power.” The light streaming through the high windows caught her face at an angle that made her pale face stand out like a skull. Did she expect him to fall at her feet like some blubbering dog?

“I thank you for the honor, witch,” he said. Glancing up at the beasts, and with great daring, he pushed to his feet, tryingto ignore the jangling Typhon’s Kiss that kept him from truly causing any damage. “Truth be told, I’d rather die a watery death than sell my soul to the woman who murdered my parents and stole away my sister, but thanks for thinking of me.”

The shriek that erupted from her throat pierced his skull like poisoned needles. He gritted his teeth against the unnatural sound, noticing how her ruby-red lips stretched impossibly wide, revealing a fanged maw of a grotesque death mask. What remained of the stained-glass windows shattered. Shards burst over them, raining down like fallen stars.

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