The days leading up to the Sirens' visit felt electric, charged with a current of excitement that buzzed through the orphanage. I watched as Eleri transformed into a whirlwind of energy, driven by a singular obsession that felt more like a calling than a mere interest.
Her training had started months ago, a secret she had shared with me one evening, her eyes gleaming with determination. "I want to be ready," she had said, sitting cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by books and scattered papers. "If I'm going to join the Sirens, I need to be exceptional. They won't just take anyone."
At first, I had thought she was joking. Eleri had always been bold, but this felt different—more serious. "Do you really think you can become one of them?" I had asked, skepticism threading my voice.
Her response had been immediate, her confidence unwavering. "Of course! I'll train harder than anyone else. I have to. I need to prove myself."
And prove herself she did. She threw herself into her training with fervor. I often found her by the edge of the lake near the orphanage, her arms slicing through the water as she practiced swimming techniques. I could see her moving with an ease that left me in awe—her body gliding like a fish. She would sometimes invite me to join her, but the thought of getting into the water made me hesitate.
"Come on, Sera! You'll never know until you try!" she would call, splashing water in my direction, her laughter ringing like music. But I always found an excuse, the cold water an insurmountable barrier in my mind. Eleri didn't let my reluctance dampen her spirit; instead, she grew even more determined.
As the weeks passed, her obsession deepened. Eleri became a creature of the water, honing her skills in both swimming and diving. Her confidence surged as she learned to hold her breath longer and dive deeper, emerging from the lake with droplets cascading from her hair like shimmering jewels. She was exceptional, truly—her prowess unmatched by any of the other kids who dared to venture into the depths.
I watched from the shore, filled with a mix of admiration and trepidation. The lake was our connection to the ocean she so desperately wanted to join, but it felt like a stark reminder of the unknown that awaited her. Would I have to lose my best friend to the call of the Sirens?
"Why don't you try?" Eleri would plead, her excitement bubbling over. "You could be amazing too! Just think of the possibilities!"
"Maybe," I would reply, but I never made a move to join her. My feet felt rooted to the ground, tethered by fears I couldn't quite articulate. The thought of becoming a Siren was exhilarating for her, but for me, it was terrifying.
One afternoon, Eleri finally decided to drag me along. "You need to experience this with me," she insisted, her voice firm but kind. "If you won't swim, at least help me train."
With some reluctance, I agreed to join her for a dry land exercise she had devised. We spread out mats beneath a tree and practiced the hand signals she'd learned from her readings. "It's essential for communication underwater," she explained, her fingers moving swiftly, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
As she demonstrated, I felt the thrill of connection to something greater, the ocean's whispers beckoning just beyond our reach. Eleri's infectious passion seeped into my bones, and I couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement.
"You're getting it!" she cheered, her laughter filling the air like sunlight piercing through clouds. "You could be a Siren too, Sera! Just think about it. We could do it together!"
But even as I smiled, I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach. Her dreams felt more significant than mine, and while I loved the idea of being part of something greater, the thought of joining her in that world made me feel small and lost.
As the days passed, the lines between us began to blur. Eleri's training intensified, and I became her steadfast support, but it was clear she was on a path I couldn't follow. She immersed herself in every aspect of the Sirens' world—studying their history, learning their rituals, and dreaming of the day she would swim alongside them in the ocean's embrace.
One evening, while sprawled on her bed, she looked over her collection of books and papers with an intensity that made my heart ache. "I just know it's what I'm meant to do," she murmured, almost to herself. "The ocean calls to me, Sera. I can feel it deep inside."
I wanted to comfort her, to tell her that whatever she chose, I would support her. But a part of me couldn't shake the feeling that I was standing on the edge of a precipice, watching her prepare to leap into the unknown.
That night, as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I couldn't shake the feeling of impending change. Eleri's dreams were bright and bold, while mine felt hazy and uncertain. The call of the Sirens resonated in her, but for me, the sound was muffled—a whisper lost in the winds of doubt.
The world outside felt expansive and terrifying, filled with paths that diverged and twisted like the waves. I knew, somehow, that everything was about to change, and the thought filled me with a mix of dread and longing.
Little did I know, the visit from the Sirens would be the turning point for us both—Eleri on the brink of embracing her destiny, and me, teetering between fear and the desire to join her in whatever lay beneath the surface.