C
Captain Roric had sailed the jagged coast of the Shattered Isles for twenty years. He had plugged his ears with beeswax to block out the songs that drove men mad. He had lashed himself to the mast while his crew wept and clawed at the railings, beguiled by the voices from the deep.
But on the rock known as the Dead Man’s Tooth, he found a siren who did not sing.
She was tangled in an old fishing net, her scales the color of a stormy sea. Her hair was like kelp, wet and heavy. When Roric approached, sword drawn, she didn't scream. She didn't open her mouth to unleash a melody of doom. She just watched him with eyes like polished sea glass.
"Kill it, Cap'n!" shouted Bosun Vane. "Before she opens her trap!"
Roric hesitated. The sirens were monsters, yes. They ate flesh and drank souls. But this one... she looked broken. There was a scar across her throat, a jagged white line where gills should be.
"She can't sing," Roric realized. "Look at her neck."
He sheathed his sword and cut the net. The crew gasped, backing away. The siren fell onto the rock, gasping. She looked at Roric, confusion warring with fear in her alien face. Then, with a splash of her powerful tail, she dove into the churning water and vanished.
Three days later, the storm hit.
It was a unnatural tempest, a wall of black water summoned by the Sea Witch, the mother of all sirens. She was angry. Her daughters had been hungry, and Roric’s ship, the Iron Gull, had evaded them too many times.
The waves tossed the ship like a toy. The mainmast snapped with a sound like a gunshot. Roric stood at the wheel, fighting the sea, but he knew it was over. The Witch was coming.
Through the rain and spray, he saw them. A dozen sirens, rising from the waves. They opened their mouths, and the song began. It wasn't beautiful this time. It was a screech of triumph, a discordant wail that made Roric’s teeth ache. His crew collapsed, clutching their heads.
Then, a shape burst from the water.
It was the silent siren. She threw herself between the ship and her sisters. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, a wave of visible force—a ripple of pure silence—blasted outward.
It hit the singing sirens like a physical blow. Their song was cut short. They choked, clutching their throats, thrown back into the sea by the shockwave of silence.
The Sea Witch rose, a towering avatar of water and foam. She roared, raising a hand to crush the Iron Gull.
The silent siren turned to Roric. She locked eyes with him. She pointed to the depths, then to her heart.
Go.
She turned back to the Witch and swam. She didn't swim away. She swam directly into the heart of the watery avatar. She opened her scarred throat and unleashed everything she had held back—not a song, but a scream of absolute nothingness.
The sound of the storm vanished. The wind died. The waves froze. For a heartbeat, the world was perfectly, terrifyingly still.
Then, the avatar collapsed. The water lost its form, splashing harmlessly back into the ocean. The silent siren was gone.
The Iron Gull limped back to port on a calm sea. Roric never sailed the Shattered Isles again. He retired to a small house on a cliff overlooking the water.
Every evening, he would sit on his porch and listen to the ocean. People asked him what he was listening for. He would just smile sadly.
"I'm listening for the silence," he would say. "It's the most beautiful song I ever heard."