A man with wolf ears stood before Dawn, and she quickly deduced that he must be Ashley's father, given the striking resemblance in their features.
Clad in a sleek black suit, his hair was slicked back, giving him an air of authority. However, the energy he radiated was one of aggression and hostility.
He approached her, wearing a forced smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I'm Mr. Lewis, and you must be Dawn," he stated, though it felt more like a declaration than a question.
His gaze fell on the book she held, and his eyebrow arched at its title, a flicker of irritation crossing his face, even if he tried to mask it. "Why are you interested in Sirens?" he asked, his tone laced with a feigned curiosity that felt anything but genuine.
He took a seat as if he owned the place, causing the chair to creak under his weight. Dawn frowned but chose to remain silent.
"It's quite simple, really. I want to learn more about them," she replied, trying to keep her composure.
His grin widened, "Are you referring to your friend, Iravan?" Dawn narrowed her eyes, cautious not to provoke him with her words. He seemed to relish the knowledge of her unusual connection with Iravan.
Settling deeper into the chair, he crossed his arms, muscles bulging beneath his suit.
"How about I share some tales about Sirens?" he proposed, and as she closed her book, he leaned in with a sinister smile. "THE SEIRENES, or Sirens, were three fearsome sea-nymphs who enchanted sailors with their deadly melodies.
Once handmaidens to the goddess Persephone, they were transformed into birds by Demeter during her search for the abducted goddess.
Eventually, they settled on the lush island of Anthemoessa.
The Argonauts encountered them but passed by unscathed, thanks to the poet Orpheus, who drowned out their song with his own. Later, Odysseus sailed past, tied to the mast while his crew blocked their ears with wax. The Sirenes were so distraught to see a man hear their song and still escape that they plunged into the sea, meeting their end." Dawn listened intently until he finished, then asked, "Why are you telling me this?"
He gazes into her eyes, filled with unrestrained malice and icy fury.
"They are monsters. They lack any semblance of empathy.
One of your so-called friends, a siren, left my daughter in a horrific state. I can't even tell if she'll pull through after this attack.
He will never walk free again." Dawn meets his furious gaze, "You can't keep him locked away forever."
A grin spreads across his face, yet his eyes betray a chilling certainty.
Rising from the chair, which groans under his weight, he declares, "That's all I needed to say. But I have something to show you that could alter your perspective."
"What is it?" Dawn inquires.
His grin shifts, the glint in his eyes changing, "You'll find out soon enough."
A part of her sensed a trap, yet her curiosity was piqued. She chose to follow him, navigating through the throngs of students bustling toward their destinations.
They pushed through the crowd until they halted before a large curtain that concealed the entrance to a secluded room.
Inside, it was silent, save for the sound of shallow breathing.
Mr. Lewis gently draws back the curtains, feeling their soft yet chilly texture against his fingertips.
As we step through, the scene before us sharpens into focus. There lies Ashley on the pristine white bed, a breathing mask covering her face.
Her hair, damp with sweat, clings to her skin, and her chest rises and falls rhythmically, creating a mist within the mask.
The girl who exudes strength during the day now appears fragile and vulnerable. Dressed in oversized hospital attire, she seems even smaller than usual.
Mr. Lewis approaches slowly, his movements deliberate, as if he wishes to avoid disturbing the slumbering girl. He halts beside her, gently lifting his hand to her forehead and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Turning his gaze to Dawn, who stands quietly behind him, he notices something in her expression that is beyond comprehension. It's an unsettling look, one that seems to belong to someone much older, almost ancient, rather than a typical teenage girl. Mr. Lewis chuckles to himself, questioning his own sanity.
Internally, he wonders, 'how could he feel intimidated by a girl who is likely only fifteen or sixteen?'