Page 43 of Rise of the Siren Queen
But this time, I did.
I pushed open the door, and there he was. His back was to me at first, his dark silhouette standing over the motionless forms of my parents. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, suffocating, inescapable. It clung to my skin, my clothes, my every breath.
And then he turned. His eyes, those once gentle baby blue eyes that had held so much love, now gleamed with madness. The sight of them sent a chill down my spine, a wave of nausea rolling through me. They filled with something twisted, something dark that I hadn’t seen before, or perhaps I had refused to see.
I tried to speak, but my voice caught in my throat, paralyzed by theterror painted in front of me. All I could do was stare at him, at the blood that stained his hands, at the lifeless bodies of my parents sprawled before him.
“Iryen,” his voice echoed in the dream, just as it had that night, calm, almost tender. “This was necessary.”
I wanted to scream, to run, but I couldn’t. My tail felt rooted to the floor, just like it had that night. Every muscle in my body froze with fear, with disbelief. I felt trapped, forced to relive this nightmare over and over.
He stepped closer, his hand outstretched. His fingers were slick with blood, glistening in the moonlight. “Now we can be together,” he whispered, his voice dripping with a twisted affection. “They were in the way. It’s over now.”
But it wasn’t over. Not then. Not now.
The memory distorted as dreams often do, but the terror remained the same. The horror of it all felt so real, so inescapable, that it consumed me. I was suffocating, drowning in the grief, the rage, and the guilt.
And then, just as it had that night, something inside me snapped. I watched myself break. I watched the moment where everything I had been, every piece of the girl who had once loved him, shattered.
I turned and ran. Just like before.
* * *
Adrian
I jolted awake, the dampness of the cave floor chilling my skin and my clothes clinging to me like a shroud. The remnants of the nightmare still played in my mind, vivid and haunting, leaving me dumbstruck and breathless. I still saw the dark silhouette of a triton looming over another triton and a siren, the image twisting like a knife in my gut.
What was that? I saw Iryen there. Was it a dream? Or a memory?
I was a voyeur in whatever her darkest moment was. Iryen’s terror had felt so real, so palpable, and yet left me with a gaping hallow feeling. I had witnessed her pain but remained helpless to change it.
What does it mean?
The echoes of the cave surrounded me, amplifying my unease. I pushed myself up, running a hand through my disheveled hair.
Why was I pulled into this mess?
The questions circled like vultures in my mind, relentless and insatiable. I felt sick, not just from the remnants of the dream, but from the overwhelming sensation of powerlessness.
I had enough of this. All I want now is to return to my city, even if it means dealing with my father’s clutches.
Something moved in the corner of my vision. I froze, every muscle tensing, my hand already gripping the blade I concealed earlier. The cave’s shadows shifted unnaturally, and I caught the faintest breeze of movement, too deliberate to be the wind. My pulse quickened. I spun, pressing the intruder against the wall, knife poised at their throat. A sharp intake of breath, familiar. Too familiar. And then she was there. Iryen.
“Do you always sneak up on people like they are your prey?” I said with venom.
Her eyes gleamed, sharp and wicked, the joy that came from knowing she held the upper hand.
“Well, Iama predator, after all.” She delivered the words with the effortless grace of a vixen in her domain, untamed, unapologetic, and entirely in control.
A slow smirk tugged at my lips.So am I.
She played the game well, but I wasn’t the prey that ran. I met her gaze, letting the silence stretch between us, thick with something darker than mere attraction. It was the thrill of the hunt, the knowledge that neither of us would back down, that we would pushand tear and devour until one of us either surrendered or destroyed the other.
I should have been wary. I should have stepped back. Instead, I leaned in, letting the tension coil tight between us.
“I could have killed you,” I drawled, pressing the knife harder to her throat. “Perhaps, I still can.” I knew it was a lie. I don’t know why, but I wouldn’t be able to kill her and she knew it, even if I wanted to, which I didn’t, couldn’t.
“Go ahead.” She uttered her green orbs cooling as glacial walls. “But then you would be stuck here, right? Not to mention that Elora would kill you,” she continued with too much calmness for someone who had a knife to her throat, which made me remember the dream.
