Then, one evening, Caelum drifted into a coral grove where they once spent time together. The seaweed swayed like dancing fingers, and light poured in softly from a rift in the surface above. He floated there, arms crossed, body still, the ache in his chest growing heavier by the hour.
And then he saw it.
A flicker of movement.
He stayed silent, hidden among the kelp, and watched.
It was Virellan—his royal advisor. The one the kingdom trusted more than anyone. A siren of wisdom, of power. Caelum's own mentor since birth. He should have felt relief. But instead, a knot formed in his gut.
Virellan wasn't alone.
He hovered above an unconscious siren, cradled in a bed of sea moss. Caelum couldn't see the face—only the soft glow of scales, the limpness of limbs. Then, Virellan began to chant. Low. Forbidden. Words from the Old Song, the kind that hadn't been sung in centuries.
Magic surged, thick and wrong. The water pulsed.
Caelum's eyes widened as he saw the siren's body shrink, twist, and vanish—leaving behind only a pearl.
Not a beautiful one. Not like the ones collectors sought. This one was dull, almost sad. It pulsed faintly, like a dying heart.
Caelum's breath caught.
That spell… it's banned.
Virellan tucked the pearl into a velvet sack. His face was calm, like he was collecting nothing more than a seashell.
And then—he turned. He swam toward the Vortex Maw.
Caelum followed.
The Maw was a wound in the ocean floor. A jagged chasm that breathed like a living beast, inhaling and exhaling in powerful currents. Even the bravest sirens avoided it. It was said to lead to a place even the gods feared to see.
Virellan reached the edge. Paused.
And without hesitation, he dropped the pearl in.
Caelum nearly screamed. Nearly surged forward.
But he didn't. He stayed in the shadows, heart racing, mind spinning.
"What have you done?"