Chapter 5: The Siren's Claim
The silence between them stretched like a wire pulled too tight.
Fox stared at Arielle, his arrow still nocked, his fingers aching from the tension. The dead orc behind her was a monument to something wrong. Something that had been here long before they arrived.
"You've been here before," he said. Not a question.
She nodded. Her jaw was set, her eyes fixed on some point past his shoulder. "Two years ago. I was part of a crew. Treasure hunters, mercenaries, the kind of people who don't ask questions when the pay is good."
"What happened?"
She laughed. It was a hollow sound, stripped of humor. "What always happens. We found the entrance to the caverns. We went in. Twelve of us walked down those stairs. I was the only one who walked out."
Fox lowered his bow. "What's down there?"
"I don't know." She finally met his eyes. "Something that sings. Something that makes you see things that aren't there. I heard my mother's voice. She's been dead for fifteen years."
The wind picked up, carrying the stench of brine and decay. The kelp pulsed its sickly light, brighter now, as if responding to some unseen stimulus. Fox felt it in his bones—a vibration, low and constant, like the hum of a machine buried deep beneath the earth.
"We need to move," he said. "Standing here makes us targets."
Arielle nodded. She stepped over the dead orc without looking at it, and together they picked their way along the cliff face, searching for the entrance she'd mentioned. The rocks were treacherous, slick with algae and something darker, something that squelched under their boots.
They found the opening twenty minutes later.
It yawned out of the cliff like a wound, a jagged tear in the stone that descended into absolute darkness. The smell that came from it was wrong—salt and rot and something else, something that made Fox's stomach turn. Old magic, he thought. The kind that leaves scars on the world.
Arielle pulled a vial from her belt. Phosphorescent liquid, pale green. She shook it once, twice, and it flared to life, casting a sickly glow over the entrance.
"Stay close," she said. "And whatever you hear down there, don't trust it."
They descended.
The stairs were carved from the living rock, worn smooth by centuries of use—or something else. They spiraled downward at a gentle angle, wide enough for two men to walk abreast, the walls glistening with moisture. The coral that Arielle had mentioned grew in clusters along the ceiling, pulsing with that same dying-star light. The air grew thicker with every step, heavy with salt and the metallic taste of magic gone sour.
Fox counted the steps. Twenty. Forty. Sixty. The light from above faded to a dim memory. Arielle's vial was the only thing keeping the darkness at bay.
"I hear something," she whispered.
He stopped. Listened.
At first, there was nothing. Just the drip of water, the distant rumble of the sea. But then—faint, almost imperceptible—a melody. A voice. Singing.
It was beautiful. Impossibly beautiful. A sound that bypassed the ears and went straight to the soul, wrapping around his heart like a lover's embrace. Fox felt his muscles relax. Felt his grip on the bow loosen.
"Fox." Arielle's voice was sharp. "Fox, don't listen."
But he was already listening. Already moving toward the sound, his feet carrying him down the stairs without conscious thought. The melody grew louder, sweeter, more insistent. It knew him. It called to him by name.
Foxy. Come to me, my love. I've waited so long.
He knew that voice.
"Everly," he breathed.
"No!" Arielle grabbed his arm, tried to pull him back, but he shook her off with a strength that surprised them both. "Fox, it's not her. It's not—"
But he was already running.
The stairs ended at a vast underground cavern, its ceiling lost in darkness, its walls covered in that same pulsing coral. The floor was a sheet of black water, still and deep, reflecting the sickly light like a mirror. And in the center of that water, rising from the depths like a vision from a fever dream, was a woman.
No. Not a woman.
Her skin was pale as bone, translucent, with faint blue veins visible beneath the surface. Her hair floated around her in a halo of silver, undulating with the gentle motion of the water. Her eyes were black pools, depthless, and her mouth—her mouth was slightly open, the melody spilling from her lips like honey.
She was naked from the waist up, her breasts small and perfect, her nipples hard and dark. Below the waterline, something else stirred—something long and sinuous, like the tail of a serpent.
Foxy, she sang. My Foxy. I knew you would come.
"Arielle," he said, but his voice was wrong. Distant. Dreamy. "Arielle, it's her. It's Everly."
"It's not." Arielle had caught up to him, her face pale, her eyes wide. "Fox, that's a siren. They're mimics. They—"
But he wasn't listening. He was walking into the water, the cold shock of it barely registering as he waded toward the creature, his arms outstretched like a man sleepwalking.
The siren smiled. The melody changed, became something sharper, more triumphant. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, and she smelled of salt and death and something floral—nightshade, maybe, or oleander. Her lips found his neck, her tongue tracing a line down to his collarbone.
Mine, she sang. Mine, mine, mine.
Then the water surged, and they were gone.
Arielle screamed.
She didn't think. Didn't plan. She just ran, her boots slapping against the wet stone, diving into the black water after them. The cold hit her like a fist, drove the air from her lungs, but she kept going, swimming down, down, down into the darkness.
The coral was brighter here, clumps of it growing from the walls in obscene profusion, pulsing with that same steady rhythm. It illuminated a nightmare—a vast chamber beneath the cavern, its ceiling ribbed with limestone arches, its floor littered with bones.
Human bones. Elf bones. Orc bones. Hundreds of them, scattered like driftwood, bleached white by time and salt.
At the center of it all was the siren.
She had Fox cradled in her arms, his body limp, his eyes open but unseeing. She was singing to him, soft and low, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. His shirt had been torn open. His skin was pale.
Foxy, she crooned. My sweet, sweet Foxy.
Arielle kicked forward, her dagger in her hand, but the siren didn't even look at her. Just continued her song, her fingers moving lower, unbuckling Fox's belt with practiced ease.
You brought me a gift, she sang. A pretty little thing. She can watch. She can watch while I take what's mine.
The melody changed.
Arielle felt it hit her like a wave, a force that bypassed her ears and went straight to her core. Her limbs went heavy. Her mind went soft. Her dagger fell from nerveless fingers and sank to the bottom of the chamber.
Come here, little one, the siren sang. Come here and let me see you.
Arielle drifted forward. She couldn't help it. The song was in her blood now, in her bones, in the spaces between her thoughts. She watched herself as if from a great distance, her body no longer her own.
The siren smiled. Her teeth were needle-sharp, her tongue—her tongue was forked, long and pink, flickering in the air like a snake's.
Beautiful, she sang. So beautiful. Take off your clothes, little one. Let me see what you're hiding.
Arielle's hands moved to her belt. Unbuckled it. Her trousers fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them, her movements slow and dreamy, her eyes locked on the siren's black ones.
More, the siren sang. All of it. I want to see everything.
Her tunic came off. Her underthings. She stood naked in the cold water, shivering, her nipples hard and her thighs slick with something that wasn't just water.
The siren extended a hand. Her fingers were long, skimming across Arielle's cheek, tracing the line of her jaw. Cold. So cold. Like touching the dead.
Pretty, she sang. Pretty little half-breed. I can taste your fear. It's delicious.
Her hand moved lower, cupping Arielle's breast, thumb brushing across the nipple. Arielle gasped. The touch was like ice, but it sent heat flooding through her, a contradictory fire that spread from her chest to her belly to the place between her legs.
You like that, the siren sang. You like being touched by something that could kill you. I can smell it on you. You want to be claimed.
Her other hand found Arielle's hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Then lower. Lower still.
Arielle's breath caught.
The siren's fingers were cold and slick, tracing along her folds with a precision that made her knees buckle. Two fingers pushed inside her, stretching her, and she cried out—not in pain, but in something worse. Pleasure. Forced, unwanted, undeniable pleasure.
There, the siren sang. There it is. You're so wet for me, little one. So ready.
Her thumb found Arielle's clit, circled it with slow, deliberate pressure. Her other hand remained on her breast, kneading, squeezing. And all the while, her song continued, weaving through Arielle's mind like a poison.
Arielle's hips bucked. She was grinding against the siren's hand now, helpless, her body responding to the spell even as her mind screamed in protest. She could see Fox over the siren's shoulder—paralyzed, watching, his eyes full of horror and something else. Something that looked like guilt.
Again, the siren sang. Come for me again, little one. I want to feel it.
Her fingers curled inside her, finding that spot that made white light explode behind Arielle's eyes. Her thumb pressed harder on her clit. Her tongue—that long, forked tongue—flicked out and caught Arielle's nipple, dragging across the sensitive flesh.
Arielle screamed.
Her climax hit her like a wave, dragging her under, drowning her in sensation. Her body shook. Her thighs clenched around the siren's hand. Tears streamed down her face—from shame, from pleasure, from the horror of what was happening.
But the siren didn't stop.
More, she sang. I want more. I want to hear you scream until your voice breaks.
Her fingers moved faster. Harder. Her tongue lashed at Arielle's breast, leaving trails of cold saliva that burned like frostbite. And the song—
The song in Arielle's head was changing. It was pulling something loose, something deep and primal and furious.
Mine, the siren sang. Mine, mine, mine.
And for the first time, Arielle heard it. Really heard it. Not the melody, but the hunger underneath. The loneliness. The desperate, pathetic need.
Mine, she sang, but there was no love in it. Only possession. Ownership. The way a child claims a toy.
Arielle's climax peaked again. And again. Each one stronger than the last, until she couldn't tell where one ended and the next began, until she was just a vessel for the siren's pleasure, a plaything, an object.
Then the siren turned her attention to Fox.
She pulled her fingers from Arielle's body—slick, glistening—and brought them to her lips. Licked them clean. Smiled.
Sweet, she sang. But not as sweet as you, my Foxy. Come. Come and let me show you what I've learned.
She drifted toward Fox, her tail coiling beneath the water, her arms reaching for him.
And the spell broke.
Not the siren's spell. The one she had over Arielle. The haze that had been smothering her mind cleared like fog burning off water, and she saw everything with terrible clarity. The bones on the floor. The coral on the walls. Fox's pale, terrified face. The siren's long, twisted tail, its scales slick and gray.
Her dagger was gone. Her poisons were in the vials on her belt, but her belt was somewhere on the floor, lost when she'd stripped.
But she still had her body.
She launched herself forward, fingers clawing at the siren's back. The creature screamed—not the song, but a real scream, shrill and enraged. Her tail whipped around, catching Arielle in the ribs and sending her spinning through the water.
Fox was moving now. The siren's hold on him had weakened when she turned her attention to Arielle. He was fumbling for his belt, for his own dagger.
No! the siren screamed. You are MINE!
But Fox's fingers closed around the hilt. He drew the blade—iron, cold-forged, the kind that hurts things that live in the dark—and drove it into the siren's chest.
The creature arched. Her mouth opened wide, wider than should have been possible, and the scream that came out was not a song but a sound of pure, unmaking agony. Black ichor poured from the wound, staining the water, staining Fox, staining everything.
Arielle found her dagger on the chamber floor. She grabbed it and swam back, driving the blade into the siren's throat, twisting, cutting.
The creature collapsed. Her tail thrashed once, twice, then went still. Her body began to dissolve, dissolving into something that looked like oil, spreading across the surface of the black water.
Fox and Arielle surfaced together, gasping, choking on the foul air.
He grabbed her. Pulled her toward the stairs. "We need to go. Now. Before whatever else lives down here—"
She didn't let him finish.
She shoved him against the wall.
The stone was cold against his back, slick with moisture and something darker. His dagger was still in his hand, dripping with the siren's blood. His shirt was torn open, his chest bare, his breathing ragged.
Arielle pressed herself against him. She was still naked, her body wet and cold and trembling, but there was nothing fragile about her now. Her eyes were wild. Her teeth were bared.
"You're mine," she snarled. "Do you hear me? You're fucking mine."
Fox opened his mouth to respond, but she silenced him with her hand. Not over his mouth—over his cock, which she pulled free of his trousers with a roughness that made him grunt.
"You don't get to die," she said, her fingers working him fast, hard. "You don't get to leave me. You don't get to call out her name while I'm on my knees for you."
His hips bucked into her grip. He was already hard—had been hard since the siren, since she'd started touching him, since he'd watched Arielle's body give itself over to the creature's sick whims. The shame of it burned in his chest, but the need burned hotter.
"Arielle—"
"Shut up." She hooked one leg around his hip, guiding him to her entrance. "Shut up and fuck me."
He drove into her.
She was tight. Hot. So fucking wet, and not from the water. Her cunt clenched around him like a fist, and she threw her head back, a keening wail escaping her lips.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't tender. It was anger and fear and jealousy and lust all tangled together, and Fox matched her rhythm with a ferocity he hadn't known he possessed. He grabbed her hips and slammed into her, again and again, the wet slap of skin echoing off the cavern walls.
"Harder," she gasped. "Fucking harder."
He obeyed. Fucking into her with everything he had, driving her back against the wall, his pelvis grinding against her clit with every thrust. Her nails raked down his back, drawing blood, and the pain only made him drive deeper.
"I'm not her," she spat. "I'm not your mage Everly. I’m not Leliana— the possessed girl you’re so desperate to save. I'm here. I'm real. And I'm not going to let you die for ghosts."
"Arielle—"
"Say my name." She bit his shoulder, hard enough to bruise. "Say it. Say my fucking name while you're inside me."
"Arielle."
"Again."
"Arielle."
She came with a scream, her whole body convulsing around him, her cunt milking his cock with rhythmic pulses that drove him over the edge. He spilled inside her with a shout, his vision going white, his legs nearly giving out.
They stayed like that for a long moment, tangled and gasping, their bodies still joined. The coral pulsed around them. The water lapped at their ankles. Somewhere in the distance, something howled.
Then Arielle pulled back. Looked at him with those wild, terrible eyes.
"Now we go," she said. "And we don't talk about this. Not until we're off this island."
Fox nodded. His throat was too raw for words.
He pulled up his trousers. Retrieved his dagger. Waded back into the black water to find Arielle's clothes, which he brought to her without comment. She dressed in silence, her movements brisk and efficient.
When she was done, she looked at him one last time.
"You called out another woman's name while I was sucking your cock," she said. "You watched me get fucked by a monster because you couldn't resist a pretty song. And then you let me claim you against a wall in a pit full of bones."
She stepped closer. Pressed her palm against his chest.
"I'm still here," she said. "Remember that."
She turned and headed for the stairs.
Fox watched her go, his heart pounding, his mind reeling. The siren's corpse had dissolved completely, leaving only a slick rainbow sheen on the water's surface.
He followed.
But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching from the shadows. Something that had witnessed everything.
And somewhere, in the darkness of the cavern, a new song began to play.
This one wasn't for him.
This one was for Everly.