The days after the announcement felt strange. Everyone was talking about the Sirens. Even the younger kids, the ones who didn't fully understand what it meant, were caught up in the excitement. I'd overhear them in the hallways, pretending to be Sirens, diving off the furniture and "swimming" across the common room floor.
Eleri, of course, was more obsessed than ever. She'd spend hours at the library, reading everything she could find about the Sirens. She'd come back with books, papers, even old news clippings, her eyes sparkling as she shared what she learned with me.
"Did you know they can communicate underwater?" she said one night, lying on her stomach on my bed. "They've developed this whole system of hand signals and vocalizations that work even in the deep sea."
I sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, pretending to listen. "That's... cool," I said, trying to keep my voice from sounding too flat.
Eleri didn't seem to notice. She flipped through the pages of her latest book, her brow furrowed in concentration. "And they can dive deeper than any human. They've adapted to withstand the pressure of the deep ocean."
I nodded, staring at the ceiling. The idea of becoming a Siren still made me uncomfortable, but Eleri was so invested in it. I didn't want to ruin her excitement.
I couldn't help but think about the stories I'd heard growing up. Stories about how people who joined the Sirens sometimes never came back. They disappeared into the ocean, leaving behind their human lives, their families, everything. It was like a one-way ticket to a new life, a life I wasn't sure I wanted.
But Eleri wasn't afraid. She never seemed afraid of anything.
A week later, the day finally arrived. The Sirens were coming to visit. The air in the orphanage buzzed with excitement, everyone scrambling to make sure everything was perfect. The headmistress had told us to be on our best behavior, which only made the younger kids even more chaotic.
"They'll be here soon," Eleri whispered to me that morning, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Aren't you excited?"
"Yeah," I lied. "A little nervous, though."
Eleri just smiled, her usual bubbly self. "Don't worry, Seraphina. You'll see—it's going to be amazing."
I followed her to the common room, where the other kids were already gathered. We all sat in rows, waiting for the Sirens to arrive. My stomach twisted in knots, and I couldn't tell if it was fear or something else.
When the door finally opened, and the Sirens entered, the room fell silent.
There were three of them—two women and a man, all tall, graceful, with an otherworldly elegance about them. Their skin had a faint shimmer, like they were dusted with pearls, and their hair moved in soft waves, almost as if it was still submerged in water. Their eyes, though—those were the most striking. Deep, sea-colored, and ancient. They didn't seem like the kind of eyes that belonged to anyone who lived on land.
Eleri squeezed my hand, barely able to contain her excitement. "Look at them," she whispered. "They're... beautiful."
I couldn't deny it. There was something captivating about them, something that made you want to look and keep looking, like staring into the depths of the ocean and wondering what lay beneath.
The headmistress introduced them, and they spoke to us, explaining what it meant to be a Siren. They talked about the transformation process, how it wasn't just physical—it was mental and emotional, too. They spoke about the commitment it required, how once you became a Siren, your life would never be the same.
Eleri hung on their every word. I could feel her vibrating with excitement next to me, like she was barely keeping herself from jumping out of her seat.
When they finished speaking, they opened the floor to questions. Eleri's hand shot up immediately.
"What's it like?" she asked, her voice trembling with awe. "Living in the ocean? What's it really like?"
The Siren woman smiled, her lips curving like the edge of a wave. "It's unlike anything you can imagine. The ocean is vast, endless. It's both beautiful and dangerous, peaceful and wild. But it's home to us now, and once you become part of it, you'll understand."
Eleri practically melted beside me. I stayed quiet, not wanting to draw attention to myself.
After the Q&A, we were allowed to approach them, to talk one-on-one if we wanted. Eleri grabbed my arm, pulling me toward them. I resisted for a moment, but she was stronger than she looked.
"We have to talk to them, Sera," she said, using the nickname she'd given me years ago. "This is our chance!"
Reluctantly, I followed her, though my stomach twisted tighter with every step.
Eleri introduced herself first, of course. She was fearless, asking questions about the transformation process, what it felt like, what the training was like. The Sirens answered patiently, their voices soft and calm, like the ebb and flow of the sea.
I stood there, silent, my mind racing with everything I wanted to ask but couldn't bring myself to say. When they turned to me, waiting for my question, I froze.
"Um," I stammered, feeling heat rise to my face. "I—well, I guess I just want to know... do you ever miss it? Being human, I mean."
The Siren woman looked at me with those deep ocean eyes, and for a moment, I thought she might say yes. But then she smiled, shaking her head.
"No," she said softly. "Once you become a Siren, you realize that the ocean was always calling you. It's where you belong. You won't miss the surface world because you'll finally be home."
Her words sent a chill down my spine. I wasn't sure I believed her.
Later, as we walked back to our room, Eleri couldn't stop talking about the visit. "I'm going to do it," she said, her voice filled with certainty. "I'm going to become a Siren. I can feel it, Sera. It's where I'm supposed to be."
I didn't know what to say. The idea still terrified me, but Eleri's enthusiasm was infectious. Maybe she was right. Maybe the ocean really was calling her.
But me? I wasn't so sure.
As I lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, I tried to imagine it—living in the ocean, leaving everything behind. My parents' faces flickered in my mind, a memory from a time when life was different, simpler.
Could I leave that behind? Could I leave them behind?
I didn't know.
All I knew was that the world felt too big, and I still wasn't sure where I fit in.