Page 56 of Siren Problems
“You gave your voice in love once,” she whispers. “To someone who broke you.”
“I trusted her,” I rasp. “And she cursed me.”
“And now you trust no one,” the eel hisses. “Not with your power. Not with your heart. Not even with a whisper.”
I clench my fists.
“You think if you stay quiet, you stay in control,” she continues. “But that silence—that fear—is the cage, not the key.”
My chest tightens.
“You speak nothing,” she says. “Because you think if you say something wrong again, the world will burn.”
I can’t breathe.
“You loved. You were wronged. And instead ofhealing, you turned your own voice into a punishment.”
I take a step back.
The cave spins.
“You kept your silence so no one could twist your words,” she says. “So no one could use your love as a weapon again.”
She rises higher. Her coils reach the ceiling now, undulating like smoke stitched with lightning.
“But you forget,” she whispers. “A gift locked away is not safe. It isrotting.”
The words strike something primal in me.
Because the truth is, I haven’t just feared the curse.
I’veclungto it.
Used it as a wall between me and anyone who might touch what I buried.
Because my voice?
It wasn’t just power.
It wastruth.
And giving it to someone... meant giving themeverything.
My heart.
My history.
My name.
The eel lowers her face to mine again. “You want to break the curse?”
I nod.
“Then give it again.”
My voice catches. “To who?”
She tilts her head. “To the one who sings in your silence.”
