Siren Song (The Fated #1)

15 | The Cliff

The black consumed everything. Time seemed to slow to nothing as something about the world clicked off. It took her several, unnerving moments before she realized it was her heart. Typically, one did not hear their own heart. Now, however, she heard the absence of it. Despite the world around her having faded into absolute silence, there wasn't a single heartbeat to be heard.

Iliana was dead.

The realization didn't come with as much panic as it should have. Perhaps because some part of her had realized this was coming. It was the same part that'd felt unnerved when asked to turn her back to the sirens. After all, to become a siren meant you were dead or dying. Iliana'd been neither. Looking back, it was obvious. The gods couldn't break the laws, therefore the situation had to be corrected before she could become a siren.

Still, it didn't mean Iliana wasn't angry.

Rhode had literally stabbed her in the back. No warning. No, "how would you like to die, Iliana?" No, "this might hurt." Just a single, condemning wound to the back would have left her to bleed out in the water had she not fallen on the blade. Perhaps Rhode had meant to stab her heart, but hadn't been able to dig the blade deep enough before Iliana wrenched around. She wasn't sure if she should feel grateful that the siren had meant to finish her off instantly, or even more pissed that Rhode hadn't managed it.

Dying hurt. A dagger tearing through your flesh because your attacker couldn't finish the job was even worse.

All of these thoughts seemed to happen over a number of hours, or seconds. She couldn't tell which. Time was as absent as light. The dark, which would have once set her nerves on edge, only made her curious. She felt as if she were nowhere, but everywhere. She stared around, as if she were turning her head, but at the same time when she looked down, she saw nothing. Another thing that should have sent her into a panic.

Perhaps it was impossible to be scared.

A light appeared in the distance. It was no more than a faint glow, but in the pitch black it might as well have been the sun. She started towards it, that feeling of moving, yet not, flooding her absent body. The light moved towards her as well. Soon, almost familiar features filled what had been a fuzzy glow. His hair, what had struck her as dusty brown before, came off as a dark chestnut now. His eyes, once appearing gray, now appeared to be almost as black as the air around them. He was no longer translucent, instead the gate-master's toned, muscular frame appeared as solid as the strongest men.

Everything about Aran, a creature born of death, drew her towards him. Without opening his mouth, his presence created a pull sweeter than any siren song. Perhaps this was the reason that when he rose his hand, a screen of light flooded the darkness left between them.

"You cannot come here."

His soft voice washed over her, soothing away any nervousness that'd managed to worm through the strange calm the darkness coated her in. The words held a strange edge to them, an accent she'd never heard. They were sharper, and Iliana faintly realized they sounded similar to how the few foreigners she knew, spoke. Those who'd learned the common language, not grown up with it.

"Why?" she asked.

The faintest hint of amusement lifted the edges of his lips "Because if you touch me, you will truly die. It is something the legends don't speak of. Once your soul is collected, no power beyond that of my masters can change your fate."

Iliana frowned. He was right; she had never heard that story before. Suddenly that pull she'd felt made sense. If he hadn't stopped her, she would have gone to him without a second thought. Her whole plan would have ruined, and she'd have never known.