The Council Chamber pulsed with uneasy voices.
Clusters of sirens filled the curved stone benches, their murmurs weaving together into a restless current that drifted beneath the vaulted ceiling.
Everyone was waiting.
At the long central table, Yve sat rigidly in her seat.
Her fingers were clasped together so tightly the knuckles had gone pale. The slate containing her autopsy notes rested before her. She already read the notes ten times.
Still, she leaned closer and whispered quietly to herself. "Observation one… no detectable lifeline…"
Her voice faltered.
She inhaled slowly and started again. "The pearl activation test was conducted twice with identical results…"
No. That sounded too stiff.
Yve closed her eyes, rubbing her temple as nervousness
twisted inside her chest. The chamber's constant murmur made it difficult to think.
What if they didn't believe her?
What if—
The great stone doors at the rear of the chamber rumbled open.
The sound rolled through the hall like distant thunder.
Every conversation stopped instantly.
Sirens rose from their seats in a smooth wave as the Chieftess entered.
Chalisse moved with calm authority down the central aisle, her long tail gliding across the polished stone floor as the currents parted around her presence. Her expression carried the quiet gravity of a leader who already bore the weight of the room's fears.
Every siren bowed their heads.
When she reached the council dais, Chalisse raised one hand. "Be seated."
The room obeyed immediately.
Stone benches creaked softly as the assembly settled once more.
For a moment Chalisse said nothing. Her eyes moved slowly across the chamber — meeting the gaze of each council member, each guard, each citizen present.
When she finally spoke, her voice carried through the hall with quiet strength. "We gather today under heavy tides."
The murmurs that had begun to stir again fell silent. "A matter of great sorrow has come upon our village," she continued. "Before we discuss the path ahead, I must first acknowledge the loss we have suffered."
Her gaze lowered briefly. "Haugen was not merely a citizen among us."
A ripple of subdued grief moved through the chamber.
"He was one of the most gifted Velaric practitioners our people have produced in many generations. His instincts in the hunt, his skill in defense, and his dedication to protecting our waters were unmatched."
Chalisse paused.
"But gift alone does not define a siren's worth."
Her voice softened slightly. "Haugen was known equally for his kindness. For his willingness to guide the young, to share his strength with those in need, and to stand watch when others slept."
Several heads lowered further.
"The void his passing leaves behind will be felt not only in our defenses," Chalisse said quietly, "but in the hearts of those who knew him."
She allowed the silence to linger.
Then her expression hardened — not cruelly, but with resolve.
"There is only one way we may properly honor his life."
Her eyes lifted to meet the council. "We will find who took him from us."
The words carried the weight of a promise. "And when we do, it will face justice for the crime it has committed against our people."
A low murmur rippled through the chamber — anger, grief, determination.
Chalisse turned slightly toward the council table. "Our understanding of the matter begins with the examination of Haugen's remains."
Her gaze settled on the young siren seated there.
Yve
"Our village's certified Anatomist has completed the first autopsy conducted on his body."
Yve felt every eye in the chamber shift toward her.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.
Chalisse's voice remained steady.
"Celestia Yve Virellis."
The use of her full name made the moment feel heavier.
"Please present your findings to the council."
She gestured toward the center table. "The floor is yours."
The chamber fell completely silent.
Yve slowly rose from her seat.
Her fingers tightened briefly around the slate holding her notes before she lifted her gaze to the waiting assembly.
Yve swam to the front of the council chamber, her heart thudding in her chest. She forced a small, nervous smile at her mother. Chalisse returned it with a subtle nod — quiet encouragement, enough to steady her slightly.
Taking a deep breath, Yve placed the slate on the lectern. She pressed it down.
Not a soft click. Not a reassuring tap. A smash, like sinking her hands into wet sponge.
The lectern shivered. Veins inside the coral-veined structure pulsed once, twice, then spread, slithering across the slate's edges like living roots. The energy ran down the lectern, trailing to the wall, and the contents of her slate slowly revealed themselves, glowing faintly against the flat surface.
Yve's eyes darted to the council. Every gaze felt sharp, assessing, weighing her. Her throat went dry.
Master Mercedius gave her a small, reassuring nod from his seat. She swallowed and forced herself to focus. "So—uh…" Her voice wavered, pitch slightly higher than normal. "…here are my findings on the autopsy."
From the far end of the table, a male siren, young and confident, smirked. "Hope it's not too hard for you to read, little Anatomist," he said, voice dripping with subtle mockery.
Yve froze for a heartbeat, heat rising to her cheeks. But she forced herself to breathe.
Another long inhale. A slower exhale.
She straightened, meeting the eyes of the council one by one, letting her voice regain steadiness.
"My first observation," she said, stylus tapping the edge for emphasis, "…is that Haugen's lifeline showed no response to repeated pearl activation tests. Two separate pearls, same result: no detectable lifeline."
The chamber shifted. A low murmur ran through the benches, a ripple of disbelief and unease.
"What do you mean, no lifeline?" a middle-aged siren at the left side of the table demanded, voice sharp. "You're certain your tests were conducted properly?"
"Yes," Yve stammered, the words tight in her throat. "…I repeated the activation twice. Both times, the result was identical. No embers, no threads, nothing."
A younger female siren leaned forward, fingers drumming nervously against her tail. "But… sirens don't just die like that. There's always a trace. How can it simply vanish?"
From the far end, the young male siren — the one who had already tried to provoke her — smirked. "Maybe the little Anatomist didn't… handle the body correctly? Or maybe she's exaggerating."
Yve clenched her jaw, but didn't reply. Instead, she inhaled slowly, letting the room settle. Then, in a steadier voice, she continued:
"Observation two: Haugen's internal organs… were severely degraded. His muscles collapsed, shriveled. Tissue is brittle. The coloration — normally rich and dark — was pale, almost gray, resembling early necrosis."
A murmur of horror swept through the room. One siren in the front row whispered, "…he was… drained?"
"Yes," Yve said softly, but firmly, "the organs appear completely devoid of the vitality they should retain. Not postmortem decay. Something actively removed it."
"Are you implying…" another council member trailed off, glancing at Mercedius for confirmation.
Yve met Mercedius' calm gaze; he nodded ever so slightly, giving her the confidence to continue.
"Observation three: His scales — outer rows — disintegrated upon removal. They're meant to remain intact for days, even postmortem. The branching structures inside the scales were gone. Hollow. Stripped."
A sharp gasp came from one of the younger attendants. "Impossible…"
Yve's heart pounded, but she pressed on, tapping the next line on the slate.
"And… there's one more observation," she said, voice slightly shaking at first, "…Haugen's soul — his spiritual essence — is completely gone. No fragments remain. The obsidian lens revealed nothing. Not a trace of residual aura. His lifeforce… removed entirely."
A sharp intake of breath ran through the chamber. Even the more skeptical council members froze, exchanging uneasy glances.
"What?" one elder whispered, voice low but incredulous. "No soul… at all? That's… that's impossible."
"Impossible in natural death, yes," Yve admitted, swallowing, "…but every instrument, every test, confirms the result. I've double-checked. Triple-checked. There's simply… nothing left."
A younger siren muttered under his breath, "…how can something like that even exist?"
One older siren, voice trembling slightly, asked, "You're certain there's no natural explanation?"
Yve shook her head slowly. "I have checked against all known natural predators, toxins, and anomalies recorded in our archives. Nothing matches these effects."
The chamber grew quiet, heavy with tension. Some leaned back in disbelief; others muttered prayers or whispered theories. The glowing veins from the lectern traced each word as it spread along the wall, projecting her observations for all to see — stark, unyielding, and undeniable.
Finally, a councilwoman at the far side spoke, voice edged with fear, "…what could possibly do this to a Velaric siren? Something alive? Or…" her words faltered, "…something unnatural?"
Yve inhaled again, heart racing, and pointed to the next line on the slate. "These findings suggest that whatever caused this… did not just kill him. It removed every trace of his energy, his lifeline, took his soul, and compromised his physical integrity in ways I have never witnessed before. No known predator, no known force, can replicate this."
A low hum of uneasy whispers filled the chamber. Some faces were pale, others rigid with anger, and a few stared at her with a mixture of doubt and awe.
The room was no longer just watching her — they were processing the impossible she had just revealed.
One elder siren cleared his throat, voice skeptical. "Yve… forgive my bluntness, but… how can we be certain of your results? You are trained, yes, but your experience is… limited. This is your first major autopsy."
Another council member nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Procedures can be delicate. One small misstep could… distort the findings. Are we certain nothing was overlooked?"
Yve's hands trembled slightly, but she squared her shoulders. She took a measured breath, meeting the council's gaze. "I… I understand your concerns," she admitted, voice steadier than before. "…I am not a veteran anatomist. I have not yet accumulated centuries, or millennia of field experience."
A few council members whispered among themselves, skeptical but listening.
"But," she continued, her voice firming, "I was trained and schooled by the former Veteran Anatomist — Master Eldric — who had over 2 millennia of experience. Every procedure, every tool, every methodology I used comes directly from his teachings. The tests were repeated, the readings verified. Every step I took was deliberate and precise. Nothing was overlooked. I stand by my findings."
"Then…" an elder asked cautiously, voice low, "…if your findings are correct… what does this mean for our village? For our people?"
Yve swallowed, heart still racing, but her voice rang clear. "…It means we are facing something unlike anything recorded in our history. A force capable of stripping a siren of everything — lifeline, body integrity, and soul itself. We must treat this with the utmost caution. Investigation, defense, and vigilance are now critical."
A hush fell over the chamber. Even the skeptics seemed to feel the gravity of her words.
Chalisse swam forward, her presence steady and commanding. "Thank you, Yve. For your efforts… you may now be seated."
She turned to face the council. Her eyes scanned each siren, firm and resolute. "Now, I had personally checked the survivors. Rest assured all of them have been healed and cared for by our Haelars, but none are willing to speak. They are all traumatized by what they experienced."
"To gain insight without further endangering them, I requested the aid of a Myrren siren to review their memories. Maira Lytsow will now report her findings."
A hush fell over the room as Maira swam forward. Her movements were tentative, her eyes wide and haunted. She leaned on the lectern for support, trying to steady herself.
"I… I relived the memories of the investigation team," she began, voice trembling. "…I could only bear two before it became too much. Every moment, every fear, every sight — it… it felt like I was there, living it myself. What I saw… what I felt… it was horrifying. I… I couldn't endure it fully."
Her words faltered. She swallowed hard, gaze dropping to the surface of the lectern as if searching for strength there. For several long seconds, she said nothing, letting the silence settle around her.
Slowly, she drew in a shaky breath, fingertips tightening along the edge of the stand, before lifting her head again.
"I… I first relived Cassian's memory for the last twenty-four hours… and…" Her head drooped slightly, swaying as nausea and fear clawed at her. "…Through his memory, I saw how Haugen died."
She paused, swallowing hard, hands tightening along the lectern. "…He was suspended in the water, completely still. His tail wasn't moving at all — not even a flick. In our currents, that should have pulled him straight down to the seafloor. But he… he just hung there, paralyzed, rigid."
Her voice dropped lower, trembling. "…His face… it was jerked upward, covered by something unnatural. I couldn't see it clearly — Haugen blocked the view — but it was like his features were being… pulled. Stretched. Consumed. His body shook violently, and branching burn marks appeared across him, exactly like in Yve's autopsy… and I could hear him screaming."
Tears welled in her eyes. She shuddered. "He… he was alive. Completely alive… and yet he couldn't move. He couldn't fight, couldn't swim, couldn't even lift himself. His scream… it was unbearable, heart-breaking. Then, just a couple seconds later, the creature dropped him and vanished. I barely glimpsed it before it disappeared. I… I don't know if it swam away or what happened next."
Maira's fingers trembled against the lectern as she drew a shaky breath. "Then… Cassian swam toward him, trying to help… but Haugen was already gone. His face frozen in that scream, eyes bleeding… and then Cassian was attacked. I saw blood swirling in his vision… and then he blacked out."
The chamber fell into an oppressive silence. Even the youngest council members couldn't hide the chill crawling down their spines.
"I… then I entered Neila's memory," Maira said, voice shaking but steadier than before. "All I relived in hers was that she heard screams… and when she located them, the investigation team had their weapons raised, striking… nothing but water. Cassian was bleeding and unconscious… Haugen was dead.
"The others formed a circle around them, getting attacked repeatedly, but… I couldn't see the creature. It was too fast. Another siren went down, and the others tried to flee. Neila tried to help but was attacked in a split second… and then she, too, blacked out."
Maira swallowed again, fingers loosening slightly on the lectern. She drew in a trembling breath, forcing herself to lift her head and meet the council's gaze. Her voice, though still quivering, carried a thread of resolve. "…That is all I could witness. I… I can do no more than report what I saw."