Captain Ollie looked at Arthur with furrowed brows. ’He’s young... too young. He may be a world-renowned director, a genius even—but he doesn’t understand the dangers of the sea... not truly.’
The old captain stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Arthur’s shoulder.
"I’m not trying to frighten you, Mr. Pendragon," he said, voice steady. "But those things out there— sirens— are no ordinary creatures. Their voices aren’t just beautiful—they’re deceiving. They’ll fool you into believing they’re divine... but behind the song is something vile."
He leaned in slightly. "You might think you’re immune. But you’re not. No one is. Their magic doesn’t just play tricks on the ears—it makes you want to believe."
Inside the room, tension hung heavy. The sailors exchanged uneasy glances.
Near the doorway, Apollonia whispered to Firfel, "Is he alright? What if the sirens really got to him?"
Firfel kept her gaze on Arthur and whispered back, "Your brother is many things... but weak-willed isn’t one of them. He’s not enchanted. I’m sure of it."
Apollonia’s shoulders relaxed at that.
Arthur met Captain Ollie’s warning with a calm smile. "I appreciate your concern, Captain. Truly. But I know what I’m doing. They can’t hurt me—or anyone on this ship."
Ollie frowned, unconvinced.
"Just trust me," Arthur added, voice firm now.
A few moments passed. Then, with a reluctant sigh, Ollie nodded and turned to his crew. "Return to the original heading."
The ship slowly corrected course, turning back toward the sirens.
Arthur gazed out the window, a faint smile tugging at his lips. With a subtle gesture, he snapped his fingers—quietly weaving a hidden spell that unraveled the enchantment woven into the Sirens’ song.
The moment the magic dispersed, he turned and made his way to the bow—calmly, deliberately—ready to greet the Sirens himself.
Across the decks, those who had been under the Sirens’ influence suddenly blinked awake.
"I—I felt awake but... like I wasn’t myself."
"It was like dreaming with my eyes open..."
Murmurs of disorientation echoed through the ship, while others looked around in alarm.
Meanwhile, up on the deck, those who hadn’t fallen under the spell remained on guard. Among them was Rika, who stared across the sea.
Though it was night, the moonlight glistened across the waves, casting eerie silver reflections. And out there—shimmering just beneath the surface—she saw them.
Faint outlines. Beautiful, terrible.
’The Fae... Just like the stories the maids used to whisper when I was a child...’ Rika thought, her hands gripping the railing. Then she noticed something. The ship was turning—heading toward them.
’Why are we going back?!’ Her pulse quickened. ’Don’t they know what’s out there?!’
She turned to run toward the bridge—only to stop in her tracks.
There, on the bow, stood Arthur. Follow current novels on NoveI(F)ire.net
His figure silhouetted against the stars. His eyes locked on the sea.
’What is he doing...?’ Rika thought, her breath catching. ’Is he... calling to them?’
She froze in place, eyes wide in disbelief. A strange worry tightened in her chest.
’Why am I... worried?’ she wondered, quickly shaking her head.
’He means nothing to me. I’ll just stay here and see what he’s up to.’
Meanwhile, out on the sea, the Sirens continued their song, their haunting voices echoing across the waves. They had noticed the Titanic altering course. At first, they feared it was sailing away—but then, to their surprise, it turned back toward them.
The Sirens grew smug. They believed the entire ship had fallen under their spell.
At the center of the pod was a striking figure—taller, more graceful than the rest. Her long, flowing hair seemed to move with a life of its own, and in her delicate hands, she held an ornate violin. She hadn’t played it—yet. Instead, she allowed her sisters to sing.
She was their leader.
Her eyes were not the usual soulless void like the others. They were warm hazel—almost human—and shimmered with a quiet intelligence.
’Hehehe... no one resists our song,’ she thought, amused. ’We wield the power of the «Great Harmony».’
But then, something caught her attention. Her expression shifted.
She leaned forward slightly, narrowing her eyes at the bow of the massive ship. "Hmm?"
There stood a figure—a man—watching them. Calm. Unmoving. Unaffected.
And as she looked closer, her brow furrowed further. Not just him. There were others on the ship—awake. Alert. Immune.
’What is going on?’ she thought, unsettled.
Suddenly, the stillness of the night shattered.
A loud voice boomed from the ship, projected by a microphone. "Intelligent creatures of the sea—Sirens!"
The song came to an abrupt halt.
"I’m honored to meet you in the middle of a film shoot," the voice continued, smooth and confident. "And I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse."
Ligeia’s gaze sharpened.
Beside her, another siren swam up and whispered, "Lady, they’re not under the spell... perhaps it’s time to use the Violin of Terror. Let them remember who they’re dealing with."
Ligeia narrowed her eyes, her expression thoughtful as she watched the man standing calmly on the bow while the others around him stirred freely. "Perhaps... it’s time."
She lifted the violin in her hands.
With a fluid motion, she rested it beneath her chin. Her long, clawed fingers—refined but sharp—slid expertly along the strings. A deep, eerie resonance swelled into the air.
The bow danced across the strings.
A haunting melody spilled from her violin, rippling over the waves like silk spun from moonlight.
Arthur remained motionless, eyes calm. But he immediately noticed the effect.
One by one, every soul on the Titanic began to fall into a trance. The melody wrapped around their minds like a warm fog. Their expressions slackened, their eyes glazed.
Then Ligeia closed her eyes and began to sing.
ἐν νηνεμίᾳ καθεύδεις."
Her voice was unlike anything normal. It layered over itself—thousands of harmonies, singing as one. Serene, seductive, and terrifying.
Arthur frowned. ’That language... It sounds familiar.’
He couldn’t quite place it, but it stirred echoes of something from his past life.
He raised the microphone to his mouth and calmly spoke, "Listen, I mean no harm. I came to talk. Trust me."
His voice, amplified across the waves, interrupted the spell.
Ligeia’s fingers froze on the strings. Her eyes snapped open.
"What...?" she whispered.
Around her, the other sirens murmured in shock.
"That man... he’s still standing."
"He interrupted Lady Ligeia’s song!"
Ligeia’s eyes narrowed. With a sharp inhale, she resumed playing—fiercer now. The notes lashed out with violence, and her voice rose again.
This time, even stronger.
Everyone on the ship—except Arthur—began to sway, eyes vacant, their bodies drifting toward the railing, drawn to the sea like sleepwalkers chasing a dream.
Arthur’s brows furrowed. He lifted one hand and made a small wave-like motion.
A gentle ripple of magic pulsed out across the ship.
Every passenger—Apollonia, Firfel, Vivienne, Rika, even Sylwen hidden in the shadows—collapsed into peaceful sleep where they stood, safe and motionless.
On the ocean, the sirens gasped.
"He... he neutralized them all," one whispered.
"He broke the trance... with a wave of his hand?"
Arthur cleared his throat and tapped the mic. "I think that’s enough for tonight."
Ligeia stopped playing, stunned.
Her fingers trembled on the strings.
"This... this is impossible," she breathed. "He’s immune to the Violin of Terror... and even the Forbidden Ancient Tongue..."
She stared at Arthur, shaken for the first time in centuries.