The Siren Spell

The Siren Spell

The moment I moved, an incredible force propelled me forward. It was so fast that I almost slammed into the pool wall. Before I even understood what was happening, I had already reached the far end. As I surfaced, the crowd erupted into cheers, their voices echoing through the arena.

“What just happened?” someone gasped. “He was right here a second ago! How did he move that fast?”

Journalists, who had come to cover the competition, stared in shock. They had expected an ordinary school event, not something that defied logic.

By the time I reached the last side of the pool, Kunle was still in the middle, racing toward the finish line with the other swimmers struggling behind him. He turned his head, probably wondering what had caused the sudden commotion, and when he saw me at the end, his expression froze.

His face twisted with shock, fear, and something else—pure disbelief. It was as if he had just swallowed something unbearably bitter. He couldn’t believe it—I had escaped the trap he set for me.

Without hesitation, I dove back into the water, stretching my arms forward and kicking hard. My movements were fluid, effortless. Every stroke cut through the water with precision.

Kunle, realizing how fast I was gaining on him, panicked. His once-powerful strokes turned frantic, his arms flailing like a drowning man. He fought against the water, desperate to hold onto his lead. But it was useless.

I surged past him with ease. The water, once an enemy, now felt like an extension of my body, carrying me forward. With one final stroke, I crossed the finish line before anyone else.

I had won.

The moment I surfaced, the entire arena exploded into cheers. Students, teachers, and even the school staff rushed forward, trying to get a closer look at me. Security had to step in, pushing the excited crowd back.

To them, I was no longer just a student. I was a phenomenon.

I scanned the crowd for Cynthia. And there she was, her face glowing with excitement as she jumped and cheered. Beside her, the Super Cee crew celebrated like they had just hit a jackpot.

Journalists swarmed around me, their microphones and cameras flashing. They bombarded me with questions about my speed, my technique, my training.

I shrugged and gave them a simple answer.

“There’s nothing special about it.”

But my housemaster wasn’t about to let the moment slip by. He took over, grinning like he had just won an award himself.

“This boy has been training nonstop for nine months!” he boasted.

I nearly laughed. I had barely known this man for a month.

That day should have been one of pure celebration, but something was off.

Bright.

One moment, the crowd’s attention was on me. The next, it had shifted elsewhere. Even the journalists abandoned their interviews and rushed toward a growing commotion.

Curious, my housemaster and I followed.

And then I saw him.

Bright stood at the center of the chaos, looking nothing like the arrogant bully I knew. His shirt was torn, his face twisted in a mix of rage and madness. His body trembled, his fingers twitching uncontrollably.

Then, in a voice that sent chills down my spine, he screamed:

“I will confess! I will confess!”

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

Confess? To what?

Bright had always been a troublemaker, but he had never looked like this before. His usual smug expression was gone, replaced by something raw and unhinged.

Then his wild eyes landed on me.

Instantly, his entire demeanor changed. He stumbled back, his hands shooting up to cover his face. He peeked at me through his fingers, his expression full of something I never thought I’d see from him—shame.

And then, as if something inside him snapped, he started laughing.

Loud, eerie laughter that made my skin crawl.

He pointed at Kunle, who stood nearby, his soaked swimming trunks clinging to his skin.

“Look at this fool!” Bright cackled. “Look at this foolish fool! Hahaha!”

The laughter echoed through the arena, sending a wave of unease through the crowd.

Then his face darkened. His eyes gleamed with something almost... sinister.

“So,” he sneered, tilting his head, “because your ancestors were servants of the sea, because they had little demons running errands for them, you thought you could compete against the Merprince? You thought you could defeat him in the Merman competition?”

His words hit like a bomb.

Confusion crashed over me. What was he talking about? Even I had no clue.

Bright’s gaze suddenly darted to a random spot in the crowd. His expression twisted with rage.

“Hey! Where are you running to?” he shrieked. “You forced me into this! You made me do this!”

Everyone turned, but there was no one there.

Bright wasn’t done. He clutched his head, shaking violently.

“I never wanted to do this,” he sobbed. “But he made me. He gave me a powder to dab on Damian’s back, but I refused! I refused! I didn’t want to do it, but he forced me! He said something… something I didn’t understand… And now, look! Look how he still failed after his plan backfired!”

His voice cracked. Then, without warning, he collapsed, his body trembling as silent tears streamed down his face.

And just like that, everything clicked.

The creatures in the pool had mentioned this. They had spoken of visiting the one who had summoned them.

Bright.

I had been too focused on the competition to process it fully, but now it was clear.

Poor Bright.

For the first time, I actually felt sorry for him.

But thank God the creatures had said his affliction was temporary. If whatever had possessed him had taken hold while he was still in the pool, it might have killed him. But since he was on land, the damage—though disturbing—wasn’t as severe.

Still, something felt wrong.

Something much bigger was happening.

And somehow, I was right in the middle of it.