SIREN-Iris

The old fisherwoman's eyes squinted against the harsh midday sun as she mended her nets by the quay. Her gnarled hands moved with surprising deftness, weaving in and out of the torn mesh with a piece of twine that had seen better days.

"It's a strange tune the sea's playing today," she murmured to herself, her gaze drifting over the waves that lapped lazily against the wooden planks beneath her. The water was unusually still, almost as if it were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. The fisherwomen had all brought in the catch early, leaving the usually bustling harbor eerily quiet.

The fisherwoman's heart skipped a beat. She'd heard the legends, of course, but never in her long years at sea had she encountered anything more than a good old-fashioned siren's wail. She peered over the side of the dock.

The silence was absolute. Not even the gulls dared to break the spell. The sea's surface reflected the sun's glare like a mirror, giving away no secrets. Yet, the fisherwoman couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, something lurking beneath the surface that didn't belong.

As she listened, the fisherwoman felt a chill run down her spine. The story was too vivid and real to be dismissed as mere fancy. And the siren's song was said to be irresistible, a call that no mortal could ignore.

The fisherwoman knew she had to act. She couldn't just let this be.