The funeral weighed upon them all.
The dead had been laid to rest at the foot of the dormant volcano, row upon row beneath the dark mountain that had watched over Reefville for centuries. The sirens gathered in solemn silence carrying through the water like a final embrace for the fallen.
But no one bore the burden more heavily than Chalisse Yen. She stood at the forefront of the graves, motionless. Outwardly, she appeared composed.
Inside, she was unraveling.
Guilt. Shame. Regret. Fear.
And beneath all of it, something far more dangerous.
Rage.
The fury of a Chief who had failed her people.
The anguish of a mother who did not know whether her daughters were alive.
The wrath of a siren whose home had been desecrated.
It radiated from her in palpable waves. Everyone felt it. Even the water around her seemed tense.
Excellus kept a respectful distance. The co-pilot avoided her gaze. And Mercedius, usually the first to offer wisdom or comfort, remained silent. He knew there were moments when words did not soothe—they only struck tinder.
Once the ceremony ended, Silver coiled his tail and tucked his tablet beneath his arm. "Well," he said matter-of-factly, "that concludes my field investigation. You have my condolences for your loss." He gave a slight nod. "I will now report my findings to His Grace."
Excellus stared at him in disbelief. "That's it?" he asked. "You're not going to do anything else?"
Silver blinked once. "What else should I do?" He adjusted his coat. "My assignment was to investigate the incident. That task is complete. The next phase depends on His Grace's assessment."
His horizontal pupils narrowed slightly. "If intervention is warranted, the matter will be transferred to the Executioners."
The word hung in the water like a blade.
Yen turned to him. Her voice, when she spoke, was low and unnervingly calm. "If you discover anything else…" She held his gaze. "Anything at all." A pause. "Please contact us."
Silver inclined his head. "Certainly."
He glanced toward the front gate. "May I borrow one of your tidecrafts?"
The co-pilot frowned. "Why? Can't you just use that portal device of yours?"
Silver gave him a flat look. "No."
He said it with the patience of someone correcting a child.
"Unshielded portal transit would reduce biological tissue to subatomic particulate. To survive interspatial folding, one must be enclosed within a volite shell." He pointed to the tidecraft. "In this instance, that vessel serves that purpose."
Excellus stepped forward. "Please," he said earnestly. "If you need reinforcements—hundreds, thousands—send them. We'll cooperate in any way we can."
Silver's mouth curved into the faintest hint of a smile. "I will not be making that decision. I am merely the investigator."
He tapped the tablet against his palm.
"Though I will admit…" His eyes gleamed. "I may have stumbled onto a very lucrative puzzle. If my conclusions are correct, I could retire after this."
Excellus nodded quickly. "Whatever you need, we'll help."
Silver's smile sharpened. "Do not volunteer so quickly, General." He held Excellus's gaze for a beat. "For all I know, one of you may be connected to what I found."
The words hit like a cold current. Before Excellus could respond, Silver turned and swam toward the gates. He boarded the borrowed tidecraft and sealed the hatch.
Moments later, the orb at the vessel's bow ignited. Space folded inward. A portal of compressed light opened before him. The tidecraft slipped through and vanished.
Then the portal collapsed, leaving only still water and a silence that felt heavier than before.
~~~
The courtyard of the old manor had grown quiet.
David adjusted the rifle slung across his shoulder and looked at the others. "Well, people," he said, voice as blunt as ever, "I've got somewhere to be." He jerked his thumb toward the estate gates. "I'll be back later."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode out.
Maurice frowned and called after him. "Hey, David! Where the fuck are you going, man?"
David didn't stop. He only lifted one hand and pointed vaguely toward the road ahead before continuing on.
Harry watched him disappear into the distance. "Let him be," he said quietly. "David's gonna do whatever the hell David wants."
Maurice snorted and looked around at the rest of them. "Well… now what?" He spread his hands. "We gonna sit around and get all emotional? Have some big ceremony? Crack open a bottle of wine?"
Harlene shot him a withering look. "Seriously?" She scoffed and brushed past him into the manor.
Maurice grimaced. "Okay. Guess that was a dumb question."
Harrison stepped beside him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "I think I'd like a little time alone," Harrison said quietly. He looked up at the old manor, his expression softening. "Just want to cherish my moments to this old house."
Maurice raised both hands. "Hey, no argument here." He gave Harrison's shoulder a squeeze. "Take all the time you need."
One by one, they drifted off in different directions, each left alone with their thoughts and with the memories tied to the house that had carried them through some of the hardest days of their lives.
~~~
At the sandy shore of the beach, the wounded filled the space.
The air was thick with blood, saltwater, and the bitter scent of crushed medicinal plants.
Yve moved from one patient to the next with relentless focus. Her hands were stained crimson, but they never shook.
Beside her, Dr. Jenkins worked over a deep laceration on a young siren's legs and shoulder. His fingers, though unfamiliar with siren anatomy, were steady and precise "What should I do next?" Jenkins asked, keeping his voice calm.
Yve glanced over while tying off a stitch on her own patient. "Flush the wound with saltwater first," she said. "Then pack the tissue with the herbal pulp."
Without looking away from her work, she raised her voice. "Saige, I need more Cacthera."
Just a few feet away from her, Saige let out a tired groan. "It's a little difficult to perform miracles when you lose a lot of blood, you know."
Yve shot him a quick glare. "Don't get sarcastic with me. I already stitched your side. You can grow three plants."
Her tone softened only slightly. "Come on. Believe in yourself."
Saige gave a weak snort. "Pretty sure belief isn't the limiting factor here."
Still, he forced himself upright. Pain flashed across his face as the wound in his side protested. He planted one trembling hand into the sand and closed his eyes.
The Herbalist's mark at the nape of his neck glowed faintly. He drew on what little energy he had left.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the sand shifted.
Three cactus-like plants burst from the sand, unfurling thick fleshy stems swollen with translucent medicinal sap.
Saige exhaled sharply and collapsed backward. "That's it," he muttered, breathing hard. "I'm tapped out."
Yve offered him a brief but genuine smile. "Thanks, Saige." She moved quickly, tearing open one of the plants.
A thick, viscous liquid oozed from the center.
Yve carried it to the wounded siren in front of her and held it to her lips. "Drink slowly," she instructed. "It'll help with the pain."
The young siren grimaced after the first sip. "Gods," she muttered, coughing. "That tastes awful."
Yve allowed herself the faintest smirk. "You've lived through worst. Drink."
Lysander approached carefully through the crowded shore, stepping around wounded sirens and scattered medical supplies. He stopped beside Yve, watching her work in silence for a moment before finally speaking. "What do we do now, Yve?"
Yve didn't answer immediately. She tightened another bandage around a wounded siren's arm, checked the bleeding, then finally leaned back slightly with exhaustion written across her face. "We rest tonight," she said. "At first light, we head for the Winslows' manor."
Lysander nodded once. "Good call." He glanced around the vast ocean. "We can't stay near the ocean any longer. Not after this."
Yve's jaw tightened. "Yes." Her hands moved quickly as she cleaned another wound. "Our Haelars are barely standing. Most of the Velarics are dead."
Her voice began rising despite herself. "And the Council—who are supposed to be leading us through this—are nowhere to be found!"
The frustration finally cracked through her composure.
Several nearby sirens fell silent.
Yve exhaled sharply and forced herself to focus back on stitching the wound in front of her, though anger still simmered visibly beneath the surface.
A few feet away, Raine looked up from the injured siren she was tending. "Hey," she said gently.
Yve paused.
Raine offered her a tired but reassuring look. "We'll get through this." A small pause. "We always do."
Yve stared at her for a moment. Then her shoulders eased—just slightly.
Around them, the shore remained a blur of suffering and determination. And no certainty that help was coming. But the sirens sticked together. Giving the very best they can.
Yve finished tying off the final bandage and sat back on her heels. For the first time since the attack, she allowed herself to breathe.
A long, shaky exhale escaped her lips. Exhaustion clung to every inch of her. Her arms ached. Her hands trembled faintly from overuse. Dried blood stained her skin—some hers, most not.
She looked absolutely spent.
Slowly, she stood.
"I need a minute," she said quietly. Her voice lacked its usual sharpness. "I've patched most of them up. You guys can handle the rest."
No one stopped her. They could all see she was running on fumes.
Yve turned and walked away from the cavern, away from the wounded, away from the ocean. The farther she got from the shore, the quieter everything became.
Eventually she reached the empty roadside near the abandoned bus stop. She sank onto the bench heavily.
For a while, she just sat there. Breathing. Staring at her hands.
Blood coated her fingers and palms in dried layers—different sirens. Everyone mixed together.
A tear slipped free before she even realized she was crying. It landed softly against her hand.
She stared at it for a second, then wiped it away with her thumb, smearing it through the blood, sweat, and dirt coating her skin.
Her breathing grew uneven. She stood abruptly. Then started pacing.
Back and forth.
Fast.
She jogged in place for a moment, trying to burn off the pressure building inside her chest.
But it wasn't working. The anger kept climbing.
The fear.
The helplessness.
The image of Reefville.
The wounded.
The dead.
Her fists trembled at her sides.
And then—The Aethryx mark on her wrist glinted faintly. A pulse of pale light moved beneath her skin like something alive responding to her emotions.
Then—
Something inside her snapped.
She turned sharply and slammed her fist into the nearby light pole.
CLANG.
The metal dented. A crack splintered through the surface, rust flakes broke off.
Her eyes glistened with fury now, predatory pupils narrowed into sharp slits. But it still wasn't enough.
She hit it again.
And again.
And again.
Each strike louder than the last.
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
The entire pole began to tremble violently.
Blood split across her knuckles, but Yve didn't stop. She kept hammering the metal with raw rage, breathing ragged, teeth clenched.
The pole started tilting. Cracks spread deeper through the base.
Then with one final scream of effort—Yve struck it again.
The damaged pole snapped sideways and crashed into the road with a deafening metallic roar.
Silence followed.
Yve stood there breathing hard, fists bloodied, chest rising and falling violently.
~~~
Inside the RV, the atmosphere was far lighter than it had been in days.
Lily sat cross-legged on one of the seats while Tyler occupied the one across from her, both of them fiddling with the customized knives Duncan had made.
Tyler flipped his blade awkwardly. "Okay, I'm definitely gonna stab myself with this thing eventually."
Lily snorted. "You already almost did like…three times."
"Four," Duncan corrected casually from nearby.
Tyler pointed accusingly. "See? That's because this thing's too sharp."
"That's literally the point of a knife," Ysa said dryly.
Tyler ignored her and continued examining the weapon like it was sacred technology. "So what do you think the new place is gonna look like?" he asked Lily.
Lily shrugged. "I dunno. Probably abandoned and depressing."
"Hey," Ysa objected immediately. "We should keep a positive attitude."
Tyler grinned. "Yeah, some of them are traumatizing instead."
That earned a laugh from almost everyone inside the RV.
Lily twirled the knife carefully between her fingers. "We should train more though," she said. "Like actual combat training. If we're gonna keep surviving all this insane stuff."
Tyler straightened. "Oh, absolutely."
Then dramatically: "I wanna fight like the sirens."
"You can barely jog half a mile without dying," Lily muttered.
"I fight spiritually."
"That's not a thing."
Across from them, Duncan and Ysa exchanged an amused glance. For a brief moment, the innocence of the two children made the cramped RV feel strangely normal.
Then the vehicle suddenly hit a pothole.
THUD.
The entire RV jerked violently.
Everyone bounced slightly in their seats.
Ysa groaned immediately. "I am never getting used to this."
Duncan nodded in full agreement. "Seriously. Tidecrafts glide smooth as hell, but roads?" He grimaced. "Uneven, cracked, muddy—ugh. It's irritating. Like physically irritating."
"Really gets under your skin," Ysa added.
From the driver's seat up front, Lucas raised one hand apologetically. "My sincerest apologies for the two-star driving experience."
Taylor laughed softly from nearby. "You can't blame them," she said. "They kinda have a point."
Joan suddenly perked up. "Wait, I got an idea."
That alone made several people nervous.
"What if," she said slowly, "cars hovered too?"
Silence.
Everyone turned toward Duncan.
Duncan stared at her. "You cannot be serious."
Joan grinned. "I'm just saying."
Duncan pointed at the ceiling dramatically. "I cannot build a hovering vehicle in this world without my energy pulser. That is scientifically and spiritually impossible. Absolutely not."
Elena leaned forward immediately. "So you have thought about it."
"That is not what I said."
"That sounded exactly like what you said."
Ysa smirked. "Oh, he's thought about it."
Duncan groaned. "You people are exhausting."
Lucas chuckled quietly as the RV continued down the rough road.
Taylor and Joan were still arguing about whether hovering cars would technically count as aircraft. Duncan kept insisting they absolutely would, while Lucas occasionally threw in sarcastic comments from the driver's seat just to make things worse.
For a few moments, it almost felt normal.
Nobody noticed Ysa growing quiet.
At first.
She had gone completely still in her seat, her eyes unfocused, staring somewhere far beyond the walls of the RV.
Not asleep. Not distracted. Gone.
The noise around her slowly faded into muffled distortion. Voices became echoes and the world felt distant.
On her wrist, the Aethryx mark pulsed faintly beneath her skin.
A soft glow. Once. Twice.
Lily noticed first. "…Uh." She pointed. "Hey, your tattoo's glowing."
Duncan turned instantly. The moment he saw the mark pulsing, his expression changed. He stood up so abruptly the RV shook slightly.
Everyone jumped.
"What?" Taylor asked.
Duncan's voice sharpened immediately. "Everybody move away from Ysa. Now."
The seriousness in his tone erased any hesitation. People quickly shifted back, putting several feet between themselves and Ysa.
But Ysa didn't react. She continued staring blankly ahead. The muffled voices in her head slowly gave way to something else.
Emotion. Not hers. Rage. Grief. Wrath so intense it felt suffocating.
The emotions bled through the Aethryx bond violently now. Rage crashed into Ysa's mind like a tidal wave.
Then—
CRASH.
Ysa's fist slammed straight through the RV window.
Glass exploded outward. The sudden impact startled Lucas so badly he jerked the wheel before quickly pulling the RV to the side of the road.
"Woah, woah—!" He slammed the brakes. "What the hell's going on?!"
The RV fell silent.
Ysa suddenly inhaled sharply. Like someone surfacing from drowning. Her entire body jerked as awareness rushed back into place. She looked around wildly, disoriented.
Then realization hit.
Her fist was buried halfway through the shattered window frame.
Ysa stared at it.
Then slowly looked toward Duncan.
Duncan moved fast. He crossed the space in two steps and grabbed Ysa's hands gently, turning them over to check the damage. Small cuts from the glass already marked her skin. "Easy," he said. "Don't move them too much."
Ysa blinked, still disoriented. "What happened…?"
Duncan didn't look away from her hands. "It's the mark," he said.
Her eyes dropped immediately to her wrist.
The Aethryx mark had dimmed now, but it was still faintly active—like an ember that refused to fully die out.
She touched it slowly. Then her expression shifted.
Understanding.
"…Yve," she whispered.
From the driver's side, Lucas twisted around.
"Hold up," he said. "What do you mean Yve? What's going on with Yve?"
Duncan finally looked up. His tone was controlled, but tight. "What did you feel?"
Ysa swallowed. "I—" She stopped.
Her eyes flicked around the RV like she was trying to find words that didn't exist.
Duncan didn't push, but his voice lowered. "Breathe. What did you feel?"
A shaky inhale. Then she forced it out.
"Rage."
A pause.
"And… grief."
The word hung in the air. Everything inside the RV shifted instantly. No one said anything for a moment. Because everyone understood the implication even without understanding the mechanism.
Taylor frowned.
"…That's not good," Duncan muttered.
Taylor snapped her head toward him. "Not good? That's your takeaway? I think that's kind of obvious—what even happened?"
Before anyone could answer—
The RV door opened without warning.
Dylan stepped in. He glanced at the broken glass, then at the group. "Why'd you stop?"
Taylor pointed immediately. "We don't know. Ysa just punched the window—" she gestured at the shattered frame— "and I think it's about Yve."
Dylan's eyes shifted to Ysa. Then to her hands. Then to the faint mark on her wrist.
A beat.
"Yve?," he said.
He immediately moved to Ysa's side, eyes locked in. "What's going on with Yve?"
Ysa swallowed hard, still staring at her wrist like it might answer for her. "I—I don't know, okay?" Her voice cracked slightly. "Something's wrong. I can feel it. She's alive… I know she's still alive. But I can't tell what happened to her."
Duncan stepped in closer, steady but firm. "We'll figure it out."
That didn't calm anything.
Dylan turned immediately. "I'm going."
Lucas reacted fast. "Dylan—wait." He climbed out after him and caught his shoulder just outside the RV, stopping him before he could do anything rashly.
Dylan didn't pull away. He just looked at him. "What," Dylan said flatly. "I'm supposed to just sit here?"
Lucas tightened his grip slightly. "What are you even going to do? You don't know where she is."
Dylan's jaw clenched. "Like hell I don't." He nodded back toward the RV. "Ysa just said something's wrong."
Lucas didn't let go. "She also said Yve is alive."
A pause.
"So whatever happened," Lucas continued, voice lower now, steadier, "we leave it to the sirens. They understand this better than we do."
He exhaled. "I get it. You're worried. But you've gotta think straight."
For a moment, Dylan didn't respond. His grip on the situation—on his own impulse—tightened, then loosened.
Finally, he exhaled through his nose. "…Fine."
Lucas slowly released his shoulder.
Dylan turned without another word and walked back to his ride.
The convoy began moving again. But the atmosphere had shifted completely. The earlier laughter was gone. What replaced it was heavier.
Elena sat beside Ysa, carefully cleaning and bandaging the cuts on her hands. "Easy," she said softly. "Don't move too much."
Ysa didn't answer. Her eyes stayed distant, worry sat heavy in her chest.
~~~
David cut away from the manor and headed into the woods bordering the estate. He hadn't said anything to the others.
No point stirring everybody up over a hunch.
But ever since this morning, something about the torn section of the hedge on the side of the lab had been nagging at him.
So he came alone.
The upper portion of the dense bush wall had been ripped open, branches snapped and leaves torn away as if something large had barreled through it in a hurry.
David stood on the other side of the bush wall. On the ground were some broken twigs.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered.
He followed the trail up, moving slowly, eyes sweeping the branches and the trees.
Then he stopped.
There was blood on one of the branches overhead.
David slung his rifle across his back and climbed the tree with practiced ease. He settled onto a thick limb and studied the angle.
Whoever had bled here had hit the branch hard enough to leave a smear. He touched the stain with two fingers. It wasn't that dry yet, it still had that sticky feel.
David rubbed his fingers together and frowned. "What the hell happened here?"
He looked down. From his vantage point, he spotted a patch of leaves below that had been disturbed—compressed in a narrow line, as if something had landed hard and then been dragged away.
David climbed back down. The moment his boots hit the forest floor, he unslung his rifle and brought it to the ready.
He followed the trail. Scattered leaves. Broken stems. Faint drag marks cutting through the undergrowth.
Every rustle made him pivot. Every snapping twig drew the barrel of his rifle toward the sound.
His senses heightened.
The deeper he went into the forest, the uglier the trail became. Blood streaked across several tree trunks now—not splatters, but long smeared marks, like whoever was bleeding had been crashing into the trees trying to stay upright.
Running injured. Or fleeing.
David tightened his grip on the rifle.
The woods suddenly felt a whole lot quieter. Too quiet.
He kept moving, boots carefully stepping over roots and fallen branches, eyes darting from shadow to shadow.
His heartbeat thudded harder against his chest.
Maybe coming out here alone wasn't the smartest damn idea.
A sharp rustling exploded somewhere behind him.
David spun instantly, rifle raised. The barrel swept across the trees.
Nothing. Only swaying branches and drifting leaves.
He stayed frozen for another second, finger near the trigger.
Then slowly turned back around. "Yeah," he muttered under his breath, "this is how people get killed in horror movies."
He pushed forward again.
A massive fallen tree trunk blocked part of the trail ahead.
As he approached it, he heard something.
Wheezing. Weak. Ragged breathing.
David slowed immediately. Every muscle in his body tightened. The rifle came higher against his shoulder. One careful step at a time, he moved toward the trunk. Then he saw it. A leg. Barely visible from the other side.
Human. Still.
David swallowed hard. Sweat slid down the side of his temple. He tightened his jaw and edged around the trunk, rifle aimed dead ahead.
Then he reached the other side.
On the ground lay the missing woman. She was in terrible shape. Blood soaked her clothes. Her face was pale beneath the dirt and bruises. One hand clutched her side, but blood still seeped steadily between her fingers.
Her eyes were wide with fear. Still conscious. Still fighting.
David's expression hardened."Oh my God," he breathed.
He dropped to one knee beside her and pressed both hands against the wound.
"I knew there were fifty-one of you," he said, disbelief creeping into his voice. "What the hell happened to you?"
The woman didn't answer. She only stared at him, pupils dilated, chest rising in short, panicked breaths.
David glanced around, trying to assess the injury. "Hey, hey, stay with me, alright? You're okay. I got you."
A sudden rustle sounded behind him. David spun.
Rifle coming up—
THUNK.
Something heavy slammed into the back of his head.
The world lurched.
His rifle slipped from his hands as he collapsed onto the forest floor. Vision blurred. Sound became distant and warped, as though he were sinking underwater.
Through the haze, he heard voices.
A man's voice, low and satisfied. "Yeah… he'll do just fine."
Another voice answered. "What about this bitch?"
David struggled to focus. His fading vision caught the shape of one of the men stepping toward the wounded woman.
Then a boot drove into her side.
She screamed. A raw, agonized sound.
David tried to move. Tried to reach for his rifle.
Nothing responded.
One final voice drifted through the darkness. "Leave her. She's filthy. Not worth wasting my energy on."
He heard the woman sobbing. Leaves scraping.
Then everything went black.
=======================================
Author's Note;
So I was messing around with an AI music generator and... well, things got a little weird. I may have accidentally created a creepy lullaby.
I'm not even sorry. This is so awesome 😁 I might just use this until forever!
Go on, give it a listen. It'll get stuck in your head. I promise.
(So I just realized I can't upload any files except for an image so here's the link for the song. Also do consider giving the account a follow.)
YT Link >>> https://tinyurl.com/msnwme9s
TikTok Link >>> https://tinyurl.com/2d5etpzz