The Siren Song And The Lycan's Heart

It’s now or never, while everyone’s lost in dreams. I can’t marry that bloodthirsty, savage siren Maik, no matter what my family says. My freedom, my heart—they’re mine, and I’m keeping them.

I slip through the crevices of our home, my tail barely stirring the water. My parents and sisters are asleep in their rooms, and I’d give anything to say goodbye. But I know they’d lock me away to ensure this alliance between the kingdoms goes through.

As I leave the house, my heart clenches. I keep swimming, too afraid to look back. The only place I’ll escape this marriage is the surface, where the land-dwellers live.

If my great-grandmother’s tales are true, I can become human like them, and no siren will ever find me. With that thought burning bright, I swim upward, closer to the shore, toward the forbidden world I’ve been warned against my whole life.

When I reach the surface, the beach is near. The sun’s rising, painting the sky, and a thick mist swirls around me. I see structures on the shore—houses, they call them.

I don’t know much about land-dweller culture. Mom and Dad say they’re cruel, always fighting over territory or any little thing. Sounds a lot like us merfolk, honestly. We’ve waged wars over the ocean’s vast reaches, battling for the magical gifts of the water goddess.

I swim closer to the beach, scanning for land-dwellers. I need to transform and hide my tail where they’ll never find it. If someone discovers it, they’ll bind me to them, forcing me to grant their wishes. I won’t be a siren again until they return it or I track it down. Every story about sirens who turned human and had their tails found and hidden ends the same—they never returned to the sea. They died as slaves to their captors.

Just thinking about my great-grandmother’s stories makes my scales prickle. Still, I’d rather risk being a land-dweller’s prisoner than marry for politics.

I spot a rocky outcrop, hard to reach except by sea, and a hidden grotto nestled among the stones. Perfect for hiding my tail. I swim to it and begin the ritual my great-grandmother taught me in secret.

“Here’s hoping it works…” I whisper, my voice trembling.

I focus on the enchantment she passed down. Something shifts around me.

The water shimmers with an ethereal glow, leaving me awestruck. A tingle sparks at the tip of my tail, something entirely new. My scales, once a cascade of blues, darken and peel away one by one. It’s not gentle—it’s excruciating. Each time the sea surges into the grotto, a fresh wave of pain crashes over me, and I scream.

Where my beautiful siren tail once shimmered, with swift, graceful fins, bare human legs begin to form—grotesque to my eyes. But something bigger changes beyond my tail. My balance. I’ve always been one with the water, floating, gliding, swimming with ease. Now, I’m dragged downward, fighting to stay afloat.

The scariest part isn’t this bizarre, agonizing transformation. It’s the emptiness. My primal bond with the sea is gone, hollow. I don’t feel what I’ve always felt as a siren, and that scares me to death.

Suddenly, rising from the water, my tail takes on a new form—a shimmering skin, a pulsing, glowing blue cloak. I grab it, feeling the hum of the water and the faint echo of my ocean connection. It’s mesmerizing, urging me to slip it back on and become a siren again.

I resist and fold the tail like salty seaweed, tucking it deep into the grotto’s rocks.

“Hey, you okay?” a voice calls from behind, startling me.

I spin—not as fast as I’d like—and my heart races. It’s a land-dweller. A male, from what I recall of the stories.

His wet hair is slicked back, and his blue eyes gleam like the corals back home, vibrant and beautiful.

“Are you hurt? Need help?” he asks, swimming closer.

I back away on instinct. He notices and stops mid-swim.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I heard screams and thought someone was in trouble,” he says.

Then I catch his gaze sliding from my face to my body. Those coral-blue eyes shift, taking on a new expression.

“Holy crap, you’re naked!” he blurts, shocked.

I look down and realize it’s not just legs I’ve gained—it’s a whole new anatomy. My siren body had scales and gills along my torso. Now, I’ve got these two… bulky things up front.

“I’m lost,” I manage to say.

He looks surprised and lets out a sound I don’t quite get, but it’s kind of funny.

“I can help you get out of the grotto and find some clothes,” he says, serious now.

I nod and let him guide me out. I force myself not to look back, not to reveal where my tail is hidden.

Swimming behind him is a struggle—these legs are weak, and I’m gasping for air in no time. The ocean tastes bitter in my mouth now. Being a land-dweller is awful!

When we reach the beach, I collapse onto the sand, nearly breathless. The male stares at my body with a look I’ve seen on male sirens. This new body must be desirable, and that terrifies me. I quickly cover myself with my hands, hiding what’s caught his eye.

He walks further up the beach and returns with something white. I stare at it, confused.

“For you to wear! It’s clean,” he says cautiously.

Oh, clothes. He did mention clothes. I take the fabric and try to put it on, but there are so many holes, I’m lost.

“Here, let me help,” he says, taking it back. He slips the garment over my head and through my arms. “There. That’s my favorite shirt, so don’t lose it,” he says with a laugh.

“Okay, I won’t,” I reply.

He laughs again, and I find the sound oddly intriguing.

This male’s got an interesting body—broad, defined shoulders. I notice he’s wearing clothes on his lower half, but his upper half is… nice to look at. There’s a design etched from his neck to his left shoulder. Now that his hair’s messy, I see it’s light, golden like sunrays. He’s a handsome male.