The Siren's Scion
And my eyes—empty of the love or fear he might have expected, filled only with a cold, silent, eternal accusation.
He saw me.
His head snapped up. His bloodshot eyes widened, the pupils growing large in pure, primal terror. The whiskey-flush drained from his face, leaving him a ghastly, bloodless white.
"No... no, you're not real... you're not..." he babbled, a string of denials to the empty air.