By the time I was 15, I had fully transitioned into a Siren. My body, my voice, even the way I perceived the world—it had all changed, but not exactly in the ways I had imagined. I thought I would feel powerful, unstoppable. But instead, I often felt like I was caught in a constant struggle, trying to control abilities that I didn't fully understand.
Take moisture attraction, for example. In theory, it was incredible. I could pull water from the air, from the ground, even from living things if I concentrated hard enough. But it didn't always work the way I wanted it to. Sometimes, when I was upset or anxious, moisture would gather around me without me even trying. My hair would always look damp, and my clothes would cling uncomfortably to my skin. It was like my emotions were tied directly to the humidity around me.
Then there was the sonic hypnosis. That one scared me the most. I didn't like the idea that my voice had the power to control others. I had tested it only a few times in controlled environments, with instructors watching, but even then, the feeling of someone else's will bending to mine unsettled me. It felt wrong, like I was crossing a line. And the power wasn't subtle—it was loud, forceful, and left me with a splitting headache after every use.
Subsonic communication was supposed to make things easier. I could communicate with other Sirens without even opening my mouth, sending low-frequency vibrations that only our kind could detect. But controlling the frequencies was harder than it sounded. Half the time, I couldn't send the messages clearly, and the other half, I could barely hear the responses. I had to focus so much that I often gave up, preferring the regular way of talking, even though it made me feel like I was missing out on a crucial part of being a Siren.
The physical enhancements were easier to accept—durability, strength, enhanced vision, disease resistance, pressure adaptation. I could swim for hours without getting tired, dive deeper than I ever thought possible, and withstand the crushing pressure of the ocean depths. My vision sharpened underwater, colors becoming more vibrant and movements clearer. I was stronger, faster in the water, able to endure temperatures that would freeze any normal human.
But every strength came with its own set of weaknesses.
Heat was one of them. I learned that the hard way during a particularly hot summer in the capital. It was like my body couldn't handle it. I became sluggish, overheated, and my skin felt like it was on fire whenever I was too far from water. It made me irritable and tired, as if the heat was draining every ounce of energy I had.
Sonic overload was another problem. If I used my voice powers too much—whether it was for hypnosis or subsonic communication—my vocal cords would strain to the point of pain. The sounds would become distorted, and eventually, I would lose the ability to use them altogether for a while. My voice would crack, and it felt like I was swallowing glass every time I tried to speak. It took hours, sometimes days, for it to fully recover.
And then there was the most frustrating weakness of all: I was slower on land. So much slower. My movements, which were graceful and powerful underwater, became awkward and clumsy when I was on solid ground. My legs felt heavy, and I couldn't run nearly as fast as I used to. It made me feel... trapped, like I wasn't fully myself unless I was submerged in the ocean.
I tried not to let these weaknesses consume me, but it was hard. Every time I struggled to control my powers, I felt like I was failing—like I wasn't good enough to be a Siren.
One afternoon, I found myself sitting on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Antarctic Ocean, my feet dangling over the rocky ledge. The waves crashed below, sending sprays of salty mist into the air. I could feel the pull of the ocean, the way it called to me, but I stayed on the cliff, not yet ready to dive in.
"Still thinking about it, huh?" a voice said behind me.
I turned and saw Eleri. She had changed, too, in her own way. After being disqualified from becoming a Siren, she had volunteered for the vampire program. Her skin was paler now, her eyes a little sharper, and her movements more deliberate. But she was still Eleri, the girl I had grown up with, even if we had drifted apart over the years.
"I guess," I replied, looking back at the ocean. "It's harder than I thought it would be."
Eleri sat down beside me, her legs crossed. "Being a vampire isn't a picnic either, if that makes you feel any better."
I smirked. "Yeah, but at least you can walk in a straight line on land."
She laughed, a sound that felt almost normal, almost like before. "True. But I miss the sunlight. And eating food that doesn't taste like ash."
For a moment, we sat in comfortable silence, both lost in our own thoughts.
"I heard about your powers," Eleri said after a while. "That you're struggling."
I sighed. "Yeah. It's... a lot."
"You'll get the hang of it," she said, though there was an edge to her voice. "You always do."
I glanced at her, noticing the way her gaze lingered on me. There was something intense in her expression, something I hadn't seen in years.
"You'll figure it out," she repeated, quieter this time. "And when you do, you'll be even more amazing than you already are."
I felt a pang of discomfort at her words. The obsession that had faded for a while seemed to be creeping back, and I wasn't sure how to handle it. Part of me wanted to pull away, to create some distance between us, but another part of me didn't want to hurt her.
"Thanks," I said, forcing a smile.
Eleri didn't say anything more. She just stood up, dusted off her pants, and looked down at me.
"Come on," she said, her voice lighter now. "Let's go for a swim. It'll help clear your head."
I hesitated, but eventually nodded. She was right. The water always made things clearer, even if only for a little while.
As we dove into the ocean together, I felt the familiar rush of cool water envelop me, my body instantly relaxing into the rhythm of the sea. For now, the ocean was my sanctuary, even if I still had a long way to go before I mastered the depths within myself.