Page 26 of Siren Problems

CALDER

I don’t remember falling.

One moment I’m singing like it’s the only thing tethering me to this plane—like if I stop, the ocean itself will suck me under. The next, I’m weightless. Empty. Not drowning, not fighting. Just... floating in the dark.

Then her voice cuts through.

“Calder. Calder, come on. Don’t you dare fade out on me now.”

It’s Luna. Fierce. Shaky. Pissed, probably. My first instinct is to smirk, even while half-unconscious. But I can’t lift my head. It’s like my limbs forgot they exist.

“Wake the hell up,” she whispers. “You’re not allowed to save the damn ocean and then keel over like some cursed prince. Not on my watch.”

I let out something between a grunt and a groan. Air rushes into my lungs— easy , like I’ve never known before. My chest rises without pain, without pressure, without magic pulsing like a parasite under my ribs. I can breathe like I’m alive .

My eyes blink open. Her face is the first thing I see—silver hair plastered to her cheeks, sand stuck to her jaw, eyes red from crying or maybe the salt spray. She’s cradling my face like she’s scared I’ll vanish if she blinks.

“Luna,” I rasp.

Her eyes go wide. “Oh thank god . I swear, if you’d gone full sea-ghost on me, I would’ve kicked your spectral ass.”

I chuckle, and it hurts, but not in the way I expect. More like a cracked rib from laughing too hard. “Sorry. Cursed guy habits die hard.”

She scowls, but there’s no real fire in it. Her fingers trace the line of my jaw like she’s making sure I’m solid. Real. Here. “You scared me, seaweed.”

“You scared me first,” I say. “Standing in that tide, offering your voice. I thought...”

“I’d get sucked under?” she finishes. “Please. I had a plan. Sort of. I mean, Mira helped, and Kai brought snacks, and Lyle sang backup by accident, and—okay, maybe it wasn’t a great plan.”

“It worked,” I say simply, and when I say it, something settles inside me. Final. Clean. Like old wounds finally deciding to stop bleeding.

She pulls back just enough to study me. “So? How do you feel?”

I take a long breath. The air doesn’t taste like blood or brine or curse-bound silence. It tastes like her skin—salt and citrus and wild wind. I look out at the water. It’s still. No more glowing ripples. No more warning hums beneath the surface. Just the ocean. My ocean. Ours.

“I feel...” I pause. “Free. And empty. But in a good way. Like there’s space in me again. Space for you.”

She stares. “Damn. That’s almost poetic, fisherman.”

“Don’t let it go to my head.”

“I won’t,” she snorts. “I’ve seen you without your coffee.”

We sit there, in the lull of the tide, hands still tangled.

Mira’s glowing relics have dimmed, scattered around the sand like seashells after a storm.

The sky is bleeding pink and gold on the horizon.

Kai is doing a little victory dance near the dunes, and Lyle’s holding up a thermos like it’s a holy relic.

Mira’s grinning through tears, scribbling notes like a mad scientist.

“You know,” Luna murmurs, “this was never about fixing you.”

I glance at her. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“No,” she says. “It was about standing with you. Giving you a damn choice. You’ve been carrying this thing alone for so long... you forgot how to be held.”

Her words slam into me harder than any wave.

“I don’t want to be held,” I mutter. “I want to hold you back.”

She leans in, her forehead pressed to mine. “Then do it. Be here. Be with me.”

I pull her into my lap, just to prove I can. She lets out a surprised squeak, but her arms wind around my shoulders like she was always meant to be there and I breathe her in. Not because I need to. But because I want to.

“I thought letting you love me would destroy everything,” I whisper. “Turns out, it saved me.”

She kisses my temple. “Told you I was good for something.”

I close my eyes, just for a moment. Let the world exist as it is. No curses. No lies. No running. Just her heartbeat against mine, the sea lapping at our knees, and the distant sound of Mira yelling at Lyle to stop juggling sacred relics.

I don’t want to be anywhere else.

The tide's breath slows, gentler now, curling around our legs like a dog that’s finally tired of barking. Above us, the sky stretches from bruised blue to burnished gold, the storm breaking open into morning.

Luna shifts in my lap, her head resting on my shoulder, and says softly, “You know what you have to do, right?”

I do.

It’s been whispering in my chest since the curse broke, vibrating low and steady in my bones. The ocean hasn’t just calmed—it’s waiting. Not for violence. Not for power.

For a song.

I stand slowly, dragging in one last breath of her scent, the grounding warmth of her. When I turn toward the cove, the others are watching—Kai with her arms crossed and a smug grin, Mira clutching her tablet like it might record the air itself, and Lyle, wide-eyed and reverent.

I don’t ask them to follow. I just walk to the cliff’s edge, where the wind still tugs at my hair like it remembers who I was.

I plant my feet.

And I sing.

Not the old songs of rage or siren commands. Not the grief-heavy ballads I used to croon when the curse owned my tongue. This is new. This is mine . A song shaped by Luna’s laughter, by Kai’s chaos, by Mira’s relentless curiosity and Lyle’s ridiculous optimism.

It’s a melody of peace .

Low and slow at first, it spirals out of me—gravelly, imperfect, human . It glides across the surf and dips into the ley lines like a soft pulse. The stones shimmer faintly. The wind settles further. Somewhere below, sea creatures hum back.

Behind me, I hear footsteps.

Luna.

She doesn’t speak, just slips her fingers into mine as I keep singing. Her eyes are wet, but she’s smiling, and that smile becomes my harmony.

The whole town feels it. Lowtide Bluffs listens . Windows open. Doors creak. People step outside, heads tilted like they hear something they forgot they needed. A lullaby for the whole damn coast.

By the time the final note fades, the ley lines glow steady and warm—no longer fractured, no longer bleeding.

Healed.

And this time, I don’t collapse. I turn to Luna, and I breathe .