Page 69 of Siren Problems
She lives here. Of course she does.
Nerida.
My mother’s sister. My aunt. The last true tide-singer of the Eastern Deep.
And the only one who knows how to unravel this curse without unraveling me along with it.
I step onto the threshold.
Her voice reaches me before she does. “You’ve grown tired of silence, then?”
I flinch.
Because it isn’t just a greeting. It’s a scalpel.
She emerges from the dark like she’s poured from it—all silver scales and skin that shifts like dusk over water. Her hair floats behind her like strands of black kelp, and her eyes... gods, her eyes are mirrors. Not literal. Worse.
Emotional.
“I need answers,” I say, and my voice comes out hoarse. Worn. “About Lysira.”
“Ah.” She tilts her head. “So it isheragain.”
I nod once, throat tight.
She gestures for me to sit by the singing pool. I do, sinking onto the cool stone. The surface of the water pulses with rhythm—slow, heartbeat-deep, matching mine. I hate that I find comfort in it.
“She was once your consort,” Nerida says without looking at me. “And she is the one who bound you.”
“Why?” I croak. “I know I broke an oath, but?—”
“You didn’t just break it, Calder.” Her tone sharpens. “Youshatteredit. You left the Siren Court at the height of its power. You loved her and then turned your voice—your sacred voice—against them. You used it to save the humans she called prey.”
I clench my fists. “I made a choice.”
“And she made hers,” Nerida replies. “The curse she crafted was no simple silencing. It was a soul-braid. She didn’t just take your voice—she stitched it into yourheart.Bound it to your guilt, your self-hatred, your silence.”
I stare into the glowing water.
“And now?”
“Now, it will only unbind if you give something freely.”
“What?” My voice is barely a whisper.
“Vulnerability.” She finally looks at me. “A truth spoken without armor. You must voice the thing you most fear. Only then will the braid loosen. Only then will the curse crack.”
I swallow. My mouth is dry.
“She said I was her storm,” I murmur. “And I left her to drown.”
Nerida’s eyes soften. “You never drowned her, Calder. You drownedyourself.And now you’re crawling back to the surface.”
I think of Luna.
Her fire. Her fury. Herfaith.
“She’s not Lysira,” I say.
