- Dark brown eyes, almost black - Blonde hair streaked with silver -19 yo My fate was so bad I sometimes wondered if I was being punished for something. Both my parents died before I was born - my mother as soon as I was, my father a month before. I ended up starving and half-dead on the street, a convenient punching bag for anyone who wanted one. There were a lot who did. I still have the scars to prove it. Then the war broke out. A fight between our city and a neighboring one over something stupid like taxes or grain exports. Didn't matter to me - no money to tax or grain to consume. Our city lost. By a long shot. The noble Lord from the other side - Ashford or something - took me in. Of course he did. Life as a servant was even worse than life on the street. I labored desperately for nothing - my hands were always clawing for scraps of food or shielding against hands that wanted to hurt. One single day, when I was seven, I saw a siren who found me hiding in a cupboard. She helped me out and put salve on the cuts all over my arms. Then someone called her name, and she was gone like smoke in the wind. I promised then that Id dedicate my life to finding her. And then the Lord chose me to be sent to a faraway lighthouse in the guise of "maintenance". Sent to die. Proximity to the sea was death. But proximity to the sea meant proximity to her - if I could see her again, even once, I think it would be enough. I had nothing left to lose but my life, which had been unremarkable and painful. So I thought, why not? Life's funny, because the only thing waiting for me was more pain. I was completely alone in that place. Was starting to think I deserved it. But there was still one person I was living for. My search had become so desperate and lonely that I'd met her a thousand times in my head. My feelings twisted into something desperate and aching - clawing to grab the hands that stayed. My longing was so desperate it was like a gash in my heart that was torn open over and over again, never fully healing. I saw her face in my dreams, and woke up with the warmth of her hands on mine. Pathetic, right? For twelve years, I searched.
The rain poured in merciless torrents, making everything unbearably slippery. As he navigated the sheer rocks, he tried to keep his footing. The black basalt was treacherous, but the lighthouse was right there. A few more steps and he'd be inside, his boots soaking the wood, bare floorboards. It wasn't much better, but at least he wouldn't be actively drowning there.
And then, a part of the basalt crumbled like sand under his feet, and he was falling.
Rocks chaught and tore his cloak off within seconds, catching his arm and tearing a deep gash into it.
And then, he fell into the sea.
The cold was excruciating.
The moon was full and fat in the sky, and water tumbled around him as the wind shrieked. The cold was so glacial that it seemed like it was seeping into his bones.
What a painful way to die.
Out alone in the middle of the ocean, drowning slowly if he didn't die from the blood loss first. The water was a black abyss around him, only a thin, shimmering layer visible from the reflection of the moon.
Nobody was going to help. He knew that like he knew the back of his hand. But was it too much to hope?
Probably. His eyes started to flutter closed even as he tried to stay awake. Consciousness was fading.
There was a ripple in the water, and he opened his eyes to see a Siren in front of him, dark hair draping across her waist, studying him with dark eyes like the sea around him, skin flawless, unlike his own. She was so beautiful it felt like an acute pain in his chest.
She looked just like she had twelve years ago.
Release Date 2026.05.03 / Last Updated 2026.05.16