The grandfather clock chimed midnight.
The house was still.
Diana crept from her room with her heartbeat pounding against her ribs like war drums. Shadows stretched long and tall across the hallway, the dim light of the moon creeping through the arched windows. She knew her father was asleep—he always was by now. And yet, this felt dangerous. Not because she feared being caught… but because deep down, she feared what she might find.
For years, her father kept the truth of her mother sealed away, as if locked behind the same heavy wooden door she now stood before.
With trembling fingers, she reached for the handle.
Click.
It opened with a whisper.
Her father's study smelled of sea salt, old parchment, and cedarwood. Shelves lined the walls, stuffed with ancient books, faded maps, and forgotten trinkets. She tiptoed in, careful not to disturb the delicate calm. Her eyes scanned the room before falling upon a thick, ocean-blue leather-bound book resting atop the mahogany desk.
There was no title on the cover, only a golden crest etched into the surface — a seashell surrounded by thorned vines.
She sat, hesitated for a second, then flipped it open.
Page after page, her eyes devoured the contents.
"The siren gene awakens on the nineteenth year of one's life. Symptoms begin with increased sensitivity to sound, emotional imbalance, and dreams of the sea. A siren is not born of evil, but cursed to balance between longing and destruction. The call to the ocean is instinct. The voice, their weapon."
Diana's breath hitched.
She turned to the next page and froze.
A portrait—drawn in delicate charcoal—of a woman with wavy black hair and piercing sea-green eyes stared back at her. Her mother.
Beneath the sketch, a name was written in elegant script: "Seraphina Delmare"
"She wished to live among humans. To love, to raise a child in peace. But the Council of the Deep forbade it. A siren who seeks to silence her own song is a danger to the balance. She was marked a traitor. Her heart was sacrificed to the sea."
"No…" Diana whispered. Her hands trembled as the book slipped from her lap to the floor with a soft thud.
The door creaked.
Her father stood there. His face pale, hollowed with age and guilt. He said nothing for a moment, just looked at her — at the pain in her eyes.
"You knew," she said, voice barely audible. "All this time… you knew what I was."
He stepped forward slowly, his voice raw.
"I didn't want this for you. I wanted you to be safe. Human. Just… Diana."
She turned her face away, blinking away tears that refused to be held back.
He knelt beside her, picking up the fallen book. "Your mother… she loved you more than anything. She fought the siren inside her every day. When she found out she was pregnant, she searched for a way to stop the cycle. To free you before it even began."
Diana's eyes locked with his. "But they killed her."
He nodded. "They found out what she was doing. They believed a siren who denied her nature would bring imbalance to the tides. So they took her. I tried to stop them… but I was only human."
Silence lingered for a moment. The only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall.
"I should've told you," he whispered. "But how do you tell your child she's destined to become something… monstrous?"
Diana stood slowly, numb. Her limbs felt foreign, like she wasn't even in her own body. The room spun slightly, and she clutched the edge of the desk.
"I can feel it," she said quietly. "The symptoms. The voice… it's starting to whisper to me in my dreams. I wake up with a longing I can't explain."
Her father's eyes filled with tears. "I'll protect you, Diana. I swear on her memory, I'll find a way—"
But she was already walking away.
"I just need time," she said, barely able to speak past the lump in her throat.
As she stepped into the hallway and slowly made her way back to her room, a soft hum echoed in her mind—faint, melodic, ancient. It wasn't hers.
Not yet.
But soon… it would be.