Ethereal Chronicles

The moon hung high over the sea as Elen wandered down to the sandy shore near the old lighthouse. The air was thick with salt, and from the far end of the beach came the faint murmur of voices from a group of men gathered in shadow.

Elen walked barefoot, her hair catching the breeze, and let the cold tide lick at her feet. She remained there a while, taking care to avoid the chatter not far from her, though it had risen in tone, turning to laughter, and then shouts.

Elen considered returning home, not wishing to get caught up in something unfavorable, but curiosity held her, so she slipped out of sight behind a cluster of dark, sea-worn rocks.

There were four of them there, surrounding something at the water’s edge. Whatever it was, it seemed big enough to send up great, hefty splashes as it thrashed and writhed about. Grunts of effort escaped the men as they struggled to drag it ashore.

“Pretty little thing, isn’t it?” One of them brawled. The others laughed in unison, low and cruel.

“It’s a pity that big tail is in the way,” another snorted. “Not much fun like this, is it?”

The third leaned closer, peering down at their catch. “Maybe a kiss will do. What do you say?”

As he pushed into the tight knot of bodies, a sudden hiss erupted from the creature, and he jerked back with a cry, clutching his face.

“Ruddy thing bit me!” He roared, stumbling, before bringing his leg forth to deliver a savage kick.

A high-pitched screech followed, and the thing squirmed violently in the sand.

“Come on, boys.” The fourth man sighed, boredom twinging his tone. “Let it go. Before you get us all killed.”

“Fine,” the injured one spat. “I’m sure we can find better, anyway.”

And with that, they turned and trudged back up the beach.

Elen pressed herself deeper behind the rocks, her heart pounding as she listened for the fading of the men’s voices, the crunch of their footsteps over sand.

When silence returned, she emerged from her hiding place.

In the wet sand lay a woman – something like a woman – stranded too far from the tide to escape. She was no human girl, for her lower body possessed not mortal legs but the long, slippery tail of a fish. The creature’s gaze was wide and wild, filled with terror as its eyes met Elen’s. 

Elen breathed in sharply. She had heard about merfolk, but never imagined she might set her eyes on one. She never even imagined one would venture so close to land.

The Siren glared at Elen as she stepped closer, eyes wide and unblinking. Its skin shimmered unnaturally in the moonlight, pale like bone and as slick as oil. Thickly webbed hands clawed at the sand about it as it struggled to pull itself towards the waves. When Elen drew too near, the creature opened its mouth to let out a low, sharp hiss.

“I just want to help,” Elen whispered. “Quick, or they might come back.”

The Siren said nothing. Its expression shifted, the tension in its face easing as it tilted its head; not quite trust, but perhaps permission.

Elen hesitated, then came forward. The Siren’s cold, slimy arms wrapped around her neck, and together they staggered towards the safety of the water. The creature was heavier than it looked; dead weight, and slick with brine, but Elen managed to pull it into the shallows. The moment the saltwater touched the seaweed colour of its tail, the Siren sprang free, twisting from Elen’s grip to glide into the waves, pausing to peer just above the surface. Black hair snaked about it, floating like ink in the water as it stared up at Elen.

After a few moments, Elen began to withdraw, hoping the Siren might make its way back into the sea, but the creature called out to her in a lilting voice from a language Elen did not know. More like a song, it ripped through the air like honeyed glass, sharp and strange and lovely.

The Siren sang so intently the time around Elen seemed to slip. She forgot the beach, the cold, even her eyes had forgotten how to see. The dark shadow of the Siren shifted before her blurred gaze, edging a little closer, the beautiful voice rising in intensity until it seemed to push against Elen’s skull, and the world narrowed to song.

Eventually, the creature stopped, flashing Elen a pointed smile, before hastily withdrawing. It turned and dove beneath the waves, its tail cracking the surface with a single powerful slap before it disappeared.

Elen touched her ears, which had begun to throb with a deep, pulsing pain, and caught the feeling of warm blood on her fingers. Shaken, she rose on unsteady legs to begin the walk home.

Even within the safety and comfort of her own room, with the door locked and curtains drawn tight, the salty slime still clung to her skin, and she could not shake the dizziness that still lingered in her mind.

Yet wonder stirred in her chest. Awe had possessed her, the sheer beauty of the thing; something so impossible and yet so real, and she had seen it. A living myth.

Sleep did not come that night. Elen sat at her bedside, bleary eyed, thinking only of the creature in the sea and whether it might come back.

The days passed quickly after that night, each one washing over the last with little difference. By daylight Elen ran errands in town, and in the evenings she withdrew into quiet solitude. In the dark of night, she would make her way down to the beach, listening to the steady whisper of the waves and longing for the Siren’s song to fill her ears.

For six nights Elen waited, her heart aching with hope and her lips silently begging the sea for a final taste of the haunting melody. For six nights, the waves answered only with silence.

By the end of the week, a strange weight settled over Elen. Her appetite dwindled, and a restless fever simmered beneath her skin. That night, she drew a hot bath, hoping to sweat the sickness away.

The tub steamed, filled to the brim, promising warmth and comfort. Elen stripped and shakily eased herself in, the heat wrapping her body like a heavy cloak. Sleep tugged at her eyelids, and she drifted, resting beneath the surface of waking.

But as she dozed, a sharp, searing pain exploded through her body, jolting her awake.

Agony lanced through the skin on her shoulders and neck, the same places where the Siren had gripped her. Elen cried out, clawing at her skin as it split and bled beneath her fingertips.

Deep, jagged cuts began to open, the flesh peeling to make room for something beneath it. Her hands, too, burned with rawness, bleeding so heavily that the tub water grew a pale, clouded crimson.

And in place of these wounds, something else began to emerge. It was hard, sharp to the touch. When it had multiplied and fanned out across her skin, Elen realised that it was scales.

Screaming, she lurched to her feet, desperate to escape the scalding water, but the moment she did so her legs buckled beneath her, fusing together. Muscle and sinew bound where there had once been separation before Elen could even register the change. And with her balance gone and searing pain in her legs, she crashed forward, plummeting face first against the cold stone floor.

The blow was hard, and amidst the pain that rang through Elen’s skull, warm blood trickled down the side of her temple from the welling wound. She lay there a few moments, fighting down the nausea that had clawed its way up her throat before one thought pushed to the surface.

She had to get to the sea.

It took minutes, or perhaps hours of agonised heaving for Elen to drag her broken body down to the beach. Her skin tore and caught against the jagged rocks that littered the coastal path, and she sobbed as the sand scraped her wounds raw. She could not look at the thing trailing behind her, shivering at the hideous feeling of the deformed tail which was neither human nor Siren; but something in between.

The waves were strong and desolate, staring at her with black, pitiless eyes. They mocked her with the white crests of their smiles, drowning the wails of her pleas as they crashed and roared.

It would not have made a difference, for the Siren was long gone. She had never meant to reach the shore, her song unintended for the mortal ears of a woman, her touch poisonous to human skin.

Elen screamed for hours, until her voice broke and the night ran dry to make way for the first red glow of dawn, bleeding across the horizon. When she realised that no one was coming to help, or at least finish the job, Elen dragged herself into the waves, letting them wash her away with no effort to keep herself afloat.

The morning broke just as she breathed her final breath, and the familiar laughter of men echoed across the beach.