Siren song

The Red Sky

The change was slow. By the third day, the wind had cooled. It no longer tasted of sweet, sun warmed salt, but had a sharper edge, as if it came from deeper below. The bright blue waters had dulled to gray, and the gulls that had shadowed them since leaving port had vanished into the mist.

Kyria had been the first to notice. She'd been leaning on the railing that morning, watching tendrils of kelp drift lazily beneath the surface, when she'd felt a shiver pass through her, not cold, but a chill, from the unnatural stillness of the air. The sea was too calm, too glassy. Even the ship moved as if it were afraid of something, skittish in the waves.

Tate found her there a few hours later, and his usual grin was dimmed. "Feels different, doesn't it?" he said, rubbing his hands together. Kyria nodded. "The air feels… heavy.

"Aye," he said, staring toward the horizon. "Could be nothing. Could be a storm brewing far off."

"Does that happen often?"

"Sometimes," he said, but the crease between his brows belied the truth.

By midday, clouds had gathered in thin lines high above, and the sailors had gone quiet. The singing and laughter from the days past had faded. There was only the groan of the timbers, and the slap of water against the hull breaking the silence. When the sun began to set, the world turned red. It wasn't the soft pink of evening, or the burnished gold she'd seen days before, this was darker, blood deep, painting the clouds and sea alike in burning crimson. The light caught in the sailors' faces, painting their eyes molten copper. "Red sky at night, sailor's delight," a man said under his breath.

"Not this kind o' red," another answered, his voice tight. "That's a warning."

Kyria stood just a little apart, hands resting lightly on the rail. She could feel their eyes on her when they thought she wouldn't know, the way their heads turned, the muffled whispers when the wind carried them. "Told you," someone muttered near the mast. "Bad luck follows them."

"Keep your voice down," someone else said. "Cap'n won't have talk like that."

"Ain't the Cap'n who decides what the sea wants."

Kyria tried to focus on the horizon, and not to listen, but each word went deep and cold beneath her skin. The sunset should have taken her breath with wonder, the beauty of that burning sky and red sea. Instead, it made her uneasy. The air smelled strange, metallic almost, and beneath the whisper of wind she thought she heard a hum, soft and low, rising and falling like a tune half remembered. She turned to ask Tate if he'd heard it too, but he only shook his head and said softly, "Best come in before dark, miss. Sea's gone quiet."

She followed him below, glanced back once more. The sun had dipped lower now, bleeding into the horizon until sky and sea were the same color as if the world itself had stopped, was holding its breath. In her cabin that night, Kyria couldn't sleep. The ship creaked, restless, and through the small round window she watched the reflection of that red light fade slowly into black. She told herself it was only the wind, only her imagination, only stories told to frighten sailors. But deep down, something inside her knew. The sea was changing