Perusing a Siren

Humans aren’t supposed to talk about mermaids. For even the mention of them could summon their presence. At least, that’s what is told to children on dark nights to keep them from leaving their bedrooms. Stories of sirens and their unquenchable thirst for humans fills the nightmares of all mortals. Sailors traveling from land to land know to not stray from the known paths, and if a squall blows off course, god help them.  Merpeople aren’t supposed to talk to humans. The seven seas quaked in fear of their fishing boats and their greed for new lands. Tides were changing, reefs were disappearing, and mermies stuck close to their mothers in fear of the two legged demons.  Merpeople took oaths never to use their ability to siren any two legs into the water, for if one of these mortals were to find the hidden cities, all hell would break loose. Those who went against their oaths were banished from society, left to survive on their own, thousands of feet below in the pitch black of the ocean cemeteries, their souls consumed by the black that surrounded them. This was where the real demons reigned.