Siren Head Sightings Novels & Stories

We were on a huge branch of a century-old tree, and we were lucky that the leaves were thick enough to hide us. I can see a few Sirens passing by around the area as if they can sense our presence but can't identify our exact location. We only sneakily checked on their movements one at a time.

Guards tried to clear the crowds, but rumors spread faster than steel could cut them down. “She’s returned—” “A Luna blessed by the Moon—” “The tides follow her—” “A ghost walks—” Voices rose, blending into frantic whispers as the grand hall’s silver doors slammed shut behind the last council member. Kai entered just before they did, shoulders tense, jaw tight. He had barely slept. Not after the visions in the mist. Not after Lucien’s warning that more sightings of a “silent woman by the shore” had been reported, scattered across the northern fishing villages.

To my chagrin, he throws his head back and lets out a boisterous chuckle. All I can do is stand there and tolerate his mocking amusement. After a few seconds, his laughter dies down to a few muffled cackles. He sniggers and shakes his head in bemusement. “Oh, luv, the things you should know. Well, let me educate you, my beauty. Sirens are rare supernatural creatures who can influence a being by using their voice. You can usually find them frolicking near the ocean. However, several centuries ago, they began to live and mate with humans. Unfortunately, the intermixing of human and siren blood meant more human children and fewer sirens.” He says with a look of disgust and continues. “Which bec

Nothing visible, nothing scented on the light breeze, yet the wrongness persists. After thirty seconds of absolute stillness, I activate the communication channel with a double tap. "Central team reporting unnatural silence zone," I murmur, voice barely above a whisper. "No visual confirmation of threat. Position marker delta-seven." "Eastern team confirms similar conditions," Dane responds immediately, his voice equally soft. "Beginning approximately two hundred meters before the expected ritual site perimeter." "Western approach experiencing the same," Liam adds. "Tree line ahead shows visual distortion consistent with previous Skinwalker activity."

Our warriors were heavily armed in the event that a defense was required and we all wore siren-blocking earpieces to avoid being bewitched or affected by their high-pitched screams. My black silky hair was caught in a man-bun to keep out of the way, knowing that the wind on this side of the territory was quite blustery. Turtles basked on the hot sand. I avoided their eggs as I passed them. Sea pebbles freckled the rest of the sandy ground where orange, gray, and red starfishes sunbathed. Several colorful merfolk heads were seen on the sea’s tidal surface. While a few others laid in the rock pools that were close to the shore. My emerald irises counted approximately fifty of them.

The woman on the bed whimpered louder, looking at me with undiluted fear in her eyes. I turned away from her and walked out. Shutting the door behind me, I dialed Elvis’s number for the umpteenth time. “I want every chopper I own in the air right now!” ***** At dusk, I stood at the door of one of the helicopters as it flew over the sea. I pressed the headset and adjusted the microphone that I was wearing. “I need all eyes on the lookout for any moving object. But on sea and offshore, understand?” “Boss, I think I see something!”

“Only way is to push ‘til I find it.” He stared at me for a while. And then Soren's quiet voice came from across the clearing. He was using that tone he saves for when things shift, trying not to startle anyone. “Rhydian.” We both turned. Soren was at the northern edge, peering into the trees. Hands loose at his sides, face doing that careful nothing that meant he was hiding his thoughts. “How many?” Rhydian asked. “Six that I can smell,” Soren answered. “Maybe more upwind.”

Standing in the rusted skeleton of a dry dock was a familiar silhouette. Siren. She wasn't wearing her silver-fox silks. She was clad in greasy overalls, her cybernetic eye covered by a thick leather patch. Beside her sat a "Skimmer"—a low-profile, flat-bottomed boat powered by a manual diesel engine, an ancient beast of iron that emitted no digital signature. "You're late, Thorne," Siren rasped, her voice barely audible over the lapping water. "I had to bypass three automated patrol buoys to get this bucket here. The Circle is tightening. They’re starting to pulse the water with sonar every twenty minutes."

It was a competitor. Alexander sat in the repurposed comms room of the southern terminus, staring at a topographic map of the coastline. Beside him, Jax was cleaning the sand from a set of long-range thermal binoculars. The air in the room was cool and clean, but the tension was thick enough to taste. They aren't sending drones this time," Jax said, nodding toward the window that faced the ocean. "The scouts in the Iron-Sinks reported heavy seismic activity near the Old Pier. It’s not an earthquake. It’s a 'Dredger.'

shouted Helena to the open sea. She was like a madwoman screaming to herself. No answer. She looked down, the beautiful blue sea with colorful fish. Dimly she heard a humming sound, something foreign to her ears but pleasant and melodious; siren sound. Siren Aquamarine, the mermaid of the Caribbean sea who always tempts pirates and fishermen. They suck every soul that is subject to their beauty. Beautiful but deadly.