THE SONG BELOW
The sea had begun to whisper again. Ren stood at the bow of The Siren's Mercy, her saltblade strapped to her thigh, her pendant glowing faintly under her collar. The sky was bruised with twilight, the water too calm like the ocean was waiting for someone to speak first.
"North again," Captain Verek said behind her. "The currents are turning strange. We'll be in Hollow Current waters by sunrise."
Ren didn't look at him. "Then we're close."
"To what?"
"To whatever's calling me."
Verek walked to her side, his gaze fixed on the endless gray-blue horizon.
"We don't often sail toward what's calling us," he said. "Most people run the other way."
"I'm not most people."
"No," he agreed. "You're not."
Below deck, the crew moved with the solemn rhythm of men who had long since lost faith in time. They worked by instinct now. By curse.
Kael, the strange boy from the Hollow ship, sat cross-legged in the cargo hold, humming softly to himself. The air around him was thick with condensation, his skin gleaming with moisture like he'd been carved from rain.
When Ren entered, he didn't look up.
"I dreamed of a whale with a city on its back," he said.
Ren crouched across from him. "Was it singing?"
He nodded. "The drowned songs are returning."
She waited.
Kael finally met her eyes. "You're hearing them, too. Aren't you?"
Ren hesitated. That morning, just before dawn, she'd heard a melody drifting up through the floorboards. Not a human song no voice, no lyrics just a pulse. Like breath made music. Like the sea humming in its sleep. "I think I've always heard it," she said. "But now it's getting louder." "That's because he knows you're awake."
Ren's chest tightened. "The Sea God."
"He has many names," Kael said. "But most forget them. He doesn't." Ren looked down at her hands. The veins were faintly blue now, only visible under moonlight. Her blood was changing answering a name she hadn't spoken.
"Why me?" she whispered. "Why not one of the crew? Why not you?"
Kael smiled, but it was sad.
"Because I'm already dead, Ren."
That night, the storm came without warning.
It didn't roar in like a beast. It descended slow and deliberate, like a cloak of thunder being draped across the sky. The winds didn't howl. They whispered. "Return." Lightning forked above, painting the sails in blue light. Rain fell sideways. The sea rose and fell in unnatural rhythm, like it was breathing. Ren rushed to the helm, soaked through, hair plastered to her face.Verek was already there, hands white on the wheel. "It's not natural," he growled.
"No," Ren shouted. "It's summoned."
A wave slammed the starboard side. The deck tilted violently. A sailor screamed as he was thrown overboard vanishing into the black.
Ren grabbed a line and pulled herself toward the mast.
"Let me try!"
"What?!"
"The storm it's reacting to me! Let me try to stop it!"
Verek hesitated only a second. Then he nodded and stepped back.
Ren closed her eyes.
She reached deep past the fear, past the noise into the rhythm inside her.
And there it was.
That heartbeat. That hum. That presence.
She raised her hands, palms upward.
"Enough."
The wind shrieked in defiance. Lightning cracked. Another wave rose, towering.
Ren clenched her fists and called.
Water around the ship surged in a circle, parting like a mouth opening to speak. The wave halted shuddered then collapsed before it struck.
The rain stopped.
The wind fell silent.
The sea obeyed. The crew stared in stunned silence. Ren lowered her hands slowly. Her knees buckled. Kael caught her before she hit the deck. "You heard his voice," he whispered. "And made it kneel."
Ren could barely breathe.
"I didn't know I could do that."
"You didn't," Kael said. "You chose to."
When dawn broke, it did so over unfamiliar waters.
They'd entered Hollow Current territory.
The sea was darker here deep green, almost black and the sky stayed gray even as the sun climbed. Mist clung to the sails like cobwebs. Strange birds circled above the waves, silent.
Mistress Ansa called it the Mourning Reach the stretch of ocean where time lost track of itself.
Ren stood alone on the bow again, cold salt air biting her face.
She had stopped a storm.
She had bent the sea.
But it hadn't felt like power.
It had felt like a warning.
Kael joined her, barefoot and silent.
"The Hollow Current will test you," he said. "Not just with monsters. With choices."
Ren nodded. "And my brother?"
Kael's face darkened.
"He may not be who you remember."
Ren touched her pendant. "Then I'll remind him."
That night, the dreams returned.
She stood inside a temple carved from coral and bone, its walls slick with seawater. Statues lined the hall women with silver eyes, hair flowing like waves.
In the center, a throne of driftwood and pearl.
Her brother sat upon it.
But when he looked at her, his eyes were wrong.
No love. No recognition.
Just hunger.
She woke in a sweat.
The pendant was warm.
The sea was silent.
And The Siren's Mercy sailed deeper into legend.