Page 8 of Spectral Seas (Spectral Worlds #2)

F OR THE NEXT twenty minutes, the acrobats pounced, spun, formed inverse pyramids, and tossed one another up into the air. The climax of the show came when two of the limber Viridians unexpectedly trapezed down from the high ceiling, lept into each others arms, then spiraled to the members of their troupe waiting on the floor below. The grand finish prompted a roar of gurgles and applause.

The acrobats formed a line facing Elggwa, deeply bowed, then ran single file from the arena. Servers returned in their place, delivering a course of light green glowing jelly desserts molded into the shapes of conches and crustaceans. Though the nautilus-shaped jelly served in the glass habitat consisted of fruit, Abby discerned from the slurps and sucks the diners made as they devoured the course that they were feasting on sweetened krill.

Midway through the desert course, a number of Viridians rose from the tables.

“ Are those —” Leta began to ask.

“ The women ,” said Abby. “ Females anyway .”

“ Do we stand? ”

“ Not yet. First comes the song. ”

Once all of the female Viridians were standing, the arena grew silent. Again came the smacking of the Herald’s footfalls as he returned to the center of the floor. When he reached the middle, he firmly slammed the tip of his staff onto the marble floor. A high pitch resonated throughout the room, a note that hung heavy and made the glass of the domed chamber hum. When the ringing had almost completely dissipated, the Herald struck the staff down again, then again, three thunderous times. On the last strike, the servers ran in and spaced themselves evenly behind the tables, each with a small conch shell in hand. Abby then noticed that the Herald held one as well.

When all of the servers were in place, the Herald raised the staff higher into the air and, as before, held it there for an exaggerated pause, then brought it down for a fifth time.

To Abby, the ringing from the rod took a physical form, that of a fuchsia mist, a purple haze. The vision was his alone, an echo from a century of diatomic induced floods of DMT, triggered by the psycho-acoustics of the Herald’s golden staff. As the note began to fade, the Herald raised the small shell in his hand to his tentacled mouth and began to blow—extending the first note to an eerie, undulating whistle. Around the royal hall, the servers placed their shells to their mouths and harmoniously added volume and girth to the mist, causing it to brilliantly glow.

Though Abby was the only one to see the shape and color of the music, everyone in the hall was prey to other effects of the psycho-acoustics. As they listened, the still sitting males — and the musicians themselves — began to shift chromatically, their skin swathing with color.

Then the females began to sing.

“ Oh. My ,” chin-chipped Leta. “ What is this? ”

“ You have to shift out or you’ll be— ” He stopped himself. Her breathing was deep. He could tell she was already fading. That she wasn’t listening to him. His echo had drawn him slightly down spectrum, safely away from the lure, but she was in the trance of the sirens.

“Leta?” he said aloud, but there was no response. “ You have to shift.” He reached beneath the table and pinched her knee and willed her to his point in the spectrum. “ NOW. ”

Leta shook her head and widened her eyes. “ What happened? ” she asked.

“ You were caught in the siren song. I tried to get you to shift, and when I couldn’t, well, I think I brought you down spectrum when I touched you.”

Leta pursed her lips.

“ I’m sorry ,” he said. “ I know you don’t like to be— ”

“ No, it’s okay. I should have shifted as soon as they began. I know the protocol .”

“ It’s easy to get caught off guard . It’s the siren song .”

“ Even off phase, it still sounds beautiful,” she said as she tapped the recorder of her wrist console. “ The mist is emerald green .”

Abby realized that, off phase, she was able to share this vision. It wasn’t solely an echo after all.

“ It’s the mist of the Siren Song ,” he said.

As the sirens of Viridis sang, rapid waves of color continued to wash over the males of the species. Then the walls began to distort and ripple, at first lightly, then distinct silhouettes formed at intervals as the camouflaged soldiers, armed with three-pronged trident spears, began to chromatically shift into view.

“ Hmm, ” said Leta. “ And no being can resist. ”

~*~