𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘, 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝖻𝗎𝗆

[B.N] 🐾 i can take the suffering from you!

The sea was strangely calm that night.

Too calm.

The Iron Lion's crew, packed with familiar faces from both the Right Arm and the rebel fleet, had long shed any belief in myths. Storms, WCKD airships, flesh-eating cranks: those were real threats.

Sirens? Sea ghosts? Laughable.

But not to Nico.

Not to the ex-pirate who'd once watched an entire ship disappear beneath moonlit waves, crew screaming in blissful ecstasy as they dove into the ocean... chasing a melody that wasn't real.

Now, as he stood at the prow, eyes narrowed into the rolling mist, Nico felt it, heard it. A humming lull. Sweet. Familiar. Painful.

He gripped the rigging tightly.

Bea's voice.

Bea's laugh.

"I miss you, Nico..."

His breath hitched.

The others behind him: Thomas, Hugo, Luke, Gally were laughing about something crude involving fish guts and Aris's failed attempt at fishing, but Nico? Nico was frozen.

She was there, just past the haze on the water.

Standing on the creaking plank of a ghostly wreck. Her hair falling in ringlets, that same half-up style she wore on their wedding night. She wore one of his old shirts, sea-washed and oversized on her like she always did when she missed him.

"I'm cold without you," Bea whispered, reaching a hand toward him. "Come home."

His feet moved.

Salt burned his eyes. A storm stirred in his gut. He staggered forward, boots scraping the slick deck. His breath grew shallow, his heart thudding faster -

not from fear, but longing. Need.

"Nico?" Thomas turned, eyebrows pinched. "You good?"

But Nico didn't answer. The mist parted, and the mirage-no, the thing was right there. Beckoning. Its eyes weren't Bea's, not really. Too pale. Too wide. Hungry.

And suddenly, BOOM.

A flare fired into the sky. Hugo's doing.

The light cut through the illusion. In an instant, the siren's disguise melted like ink in water, replaced by a creature too long, too sharp, too cruel.

Nico fell back onto the deck, gasping, heartbeat thundering.

"You- You saw her, didn't you?" Gally muttered, pulling him up roughly. "The one you love."

Nico, shaken, nodded. "She sounded like my wife."

Thomas's voice was quieter than usual, but steady. "They always do."

The rest of the night, Nico sat against the mast, jaw tight, staring out at the waves. He didn't sleep.

When the sun finally rose, burning away the fog, someone dropped beside him with a canteen and dry rations-Luke, maybe. No one asked questions. Not about the siren. Not about how close Nico had come to diving in.

But later-when they docked at a tiny port for supplies, someone handed Nico a crumpled letter.

In Bea's handwriting.

"Don't let the sea take you, Nico. You promised me forever. I'm still waiting for you at home."

He clutched it to his chest like a lifeline.

He didn't look at the sea again that day.