A Mermaid for the Lonely

The Weight of Souls

The sea was unusually quiet today. The water, which normally sang with the endless rhythm of life and death, lay still beneath the pale, overcast sky. Sirène hovered just beneath the surface, her long, pink hair floating in a cloud around her head, her dark tail swaying gently with the faint current. She had been here for hours, waiting.

It wasn't uncommon for her to linger in moments like these, where the sea remained calm and the souls were nowhere to be found. But today, her mind felt heavier than usual. Something had changed inside her, something that had begun the moment she met Lyam.

For as long as Sirène could remember, her duty had been clear: to guide the souls of those lost to the sea, to lead them away from the world of the living and help them find peace. She had done it for centuries, without question, without hesitation. Her indifference had always been her shield, a necessary barrier that kept her from becoming entangled in the lives of those she guided. To her, they had been faceless, nameless beings—lost souls who needed her, nothing more.

But now... she wasn't so sure.

It had started slowly, like the pull of a distant current beneath the waves. She would catch herself wondering, more and more often, about the lives of those she guided. Who were they? Did they have families waiting for them on distant shores, lovers who would never know what had become of them? What had their final thoughts been as the sea took them? Were they afraid? Were they at peace?

She hadn't always cared about such things. It had made her job easier to remain detached, to be nothing more than a silent guide in the dark. But now, the faces of the souls she guided lingered in her mind long after they had gone, their voices echoing in the chambers of her heart. And it was all because of him.

Lyam.

The mere thought of his name sent ripples through her, stirring up something deep and unnameable inside her. His questions, his curiosity, his very presence had awakened something in her—a longing she hadn't realized she possessed. It had begun as curiosity, a fascination with human emotions, with their strange and unpredictable lives. But now... now it was something more. She found herself thinking of him often, wondering where he was, if he was safe. She found herself missing him.

And that was dangerous.

As she drifted through the water, lost in thought, a flicker of light caught her eye. It was faint at first, barely noticeable against the backdrop of the ocean's depths, but Sirène knew what it meant. A soul was nearby, lost and waiting.

She swam toward the light, her movements graceful and deliberate, her mind shifting into the familiar rhythm of her duty. The soul was a sailor, his body drifting just beneath the surface, his eyes wide and unseeing, his skin pale and bloated from the sea's cold embrace. He had been dead for hours, perhaps days, yet his spirit lingered, tethered to the wreckage of his ship that lay in pieces on the ocean floor.

Sirène circled the body, her silver eyes glowing faintly in the dim light as she reached out to the soul, calling it to her. The man's spirit stirred, his form becoming more solid as he rose from the water, his expression blank, empty.

Usually, this was where Sirène felt nothing. This was the moment where she guided the soul without question, without thought. But now, as she gazed upon the sailor's lifeless form, she found herself wondering—who was he? What had his life been like before the sea claimed him? Did he have someone waiting for him on land, someone who would mourn his loss?

She drew closer, her hand outstretched to guide him. "Come," she whispered, her voice soft and melodic, a voice meant to soothe and comfort. "It's time to rest."

The sailor's spirit floated toward her, his eyes still vacant, his body translucent in the water. But as she prepared to lead him away, the questions in her mind grew louder. What was his name? Had he been afraid in his final moments? Was there someone waiting for him, someone who would never see him again?

Sirène hesitated, her hand hovering in the water. It was wrong—she knew it was wrong—to let these thoughts distract her. She wasn't meant to feel this way. She was a guide, a vessel of the sea, nothing more. But no matter how hard she tried to push the thoughts away, they persisted.

"Who are you?" she whispered, though she knew the soul would not answer. The dead did not speak, not in the way the living did. But the silence that followed her question felt heavier than usual, as if the weight of the soul's life, his unspoken story, pressed down on her chest.

She could feel the loneliness creeping in again, the same emptiness that had always been with her, but now magnified. She was alone in her duty, as she had always been. But for the first time, that loneliness felt unbearable.

The soul moved forward, obedient and silent, ready to follow her to its final resting place. But Sirène's heart ached with the weight of her own thoughts. She had guided countless souls before this one, never once questioning their lives, their stories. But now, she couldn't stop thinking about it. She couldn't stop thinking about him.

Lyam had opened something inside her, something she wasn't sure she could close again. He had shown her a world beyond the ocean, a world of human emotions and connections that she had never known before. And now, the indifference she once relied on to do her job was slipping away, leaving her vulnerable and unsure.

She led the soul toward the glowing horizon, where the line between the living and the dead blurred into nothingness. The sailor's spirit disappeared into the light, his form fading into the distance until there was nothing left of him but the memory of his face.

As the light faded and the sea grew quiet once more, Sirène lingered in the water, her thoughts heavy. She had done her duty, as she always did. But this time, it felt different. This time, the weight of the soul's life pressed down on her, lingering long after he was gone.

She glanced up toward the surface of the water, where the faint outline of the sun cast shadows on the ocean floor. Somewhere out there, Lyam was living his life—alive, breathing, feeling. And here she was, alone again in the depths, surrounded by the souls of the dead.

Sirène's tail flicked gently in the water, her heart heavy with the burden of her thoughts. The sea had always been her home, her solace. But now, for the first time, it felt like a cage. A cage made of endless depths and silent souls.

The thought scared her.

Something was pulling her toward the surface, toward him. It wasn't just curiosity anymore, it was something deeper, something she couldn't explain. She had spent her life guiding the dead, and now, all she could think about was the living.

She knew it was dangerous. She knew the risks. But as she floated there in the stillness of the ocean, the loneliness pressing in on her from all sides, she couldn't help but wonder—what if she didn't belong here anymore?

What if, like the souls she guided, it was time for her to move on?

The thought lingered in her mind as she turned and swam away from the place where the sailor's soul had vanished, the questions still swirling in her heart. She had a duty to the dead. But for the first time, she wasn't sure if it was enough.

For the first time, Sirène wondered if she was meant for something more.