The naval port is bustling, filled with citizens both young and old, cheering as the Seastar rolls out of the port, along the waves. Ren and Penny wave goodbye to the colony of Gravelle, to Elvira and Rayfel who stand at the edge of the outcrop. Once again, they are leaving Gravelle behind, but this time, they will be on the high seas, bound for Ilecthia.

Ren just hopes he won’t puke into the ocean. What would people like Vane and Gridel (and Clemon. No, Ren did not forget him for a second there.) think of him then? Penny’s not a factor in his embarrassment level, for she has seen him in way worse scenarios. None of which he shall mention in detail.

The ship sails through the underground lake, gently floating down the water as the wind blows. Clemon was adamant that this lake would lead them straight out to the open seas, and though Ren did have his doubts, he really should trust someone who’s lived here his whole life.

Even if this someone looks right at home in secondary school.

Illuminium lamps hang on the sides of the walls, brightening their way ahead. The waterway is broad enough that the boat doesn’t bump its sides, and the caverns are tall enough that the mast of the ship doesn’t brush the ceiling.

It is not long before they reach the mouth of the cave, and beyond that is a ginormous body of water. The ocean stretches for as far as the eye can see, with no sign of land in the far distance. Ren gazes back at the land that they are leaving behind, at the Ashen Plains, Cave Centurian, and Mount Hilbeck.

“Woo!” Penny throws her hands in the air, rushing to the front of the ship and greeting the sea breeze with open arms. Ren follows her, holding an arm out to shield his eyes. The sky is a startling shade of crimson, but it’s still…refreshing, somehow.

“The seas of Ilecthia are directly ahead,” Clemon says. “Master Ren and Lady Penny, feel free to take a rest. I think it will be a while before we reach land.”

Penny shows him a thumbs-up sign. “Yeah, sure! Thank you for steering the ship, Clemon!”

Ren stifles a chuckle at Clemon’s suddenly bashful expression, complete with a bright flush of his cheeks, which he attempts to hide by ducking his head. Ren turns back to the vast swathes of blue before him. When’s the last time he ever got on such a vessel—that is, never—and when will he get on one ever again?

“Ren and Penny,” Gridel calls, from the entranceway leading to the cabins. “Would you like me to show you to your rooms?”

That’s a nice thought, to have a private place that Ren can retreat to whenever he needs it. Penny skips after Gridel, clearly interested in exploring the said cabins below the deck.

Down the rickety staircase, the corridor—floors and walls—is polished to the point where if Ren squints hard enough, he may be able to see his reflection in the wood. Gridel shows them to two cabins just beside each other, both doors a dull shade of maroon in the dim light.

“It will be a while till we reach our destination,” Gridel says. “Please, do not worry yourself with the workings of the ship. Under Clemon’s instruction, we should be able to arrive at Ilecthia with little trouble.”

“Really? Wouldn’t it be hard to manage a ship with three people, though?” Penny asks.

Gridel purses her lips. “It’s not right to make the Luminaries do such lowly work…”

“Dude.” Penny puts her hands on Gridel’s shoulders. Ren tries to bite back the cackle at Gridel’s widened eyes. If Penny notices the shell-shocked expression on Gridel’s face, she doesn’t show it and instead fixes Gridel with one of her most stern glares ever. “It’s not lowly work if it’s getting the ship to run. Besides, I wanna try sitting on the crow’s nest at least once in my life.”

“Well…I suppose…” Gridel mumbles.

“Great. It’s settled, then,” Penny says, releasing Gridel and striding over to Ren, jabbing a finger right into his chest. “And you, matey, will scrub the deck!”

“Wait, what? Why do you get to do the fun stuff and I—”

“Arguing with the captain? To the plank with ya!” Penny hisses and manages to hold her giggles back for a mere second before she bursts into rambunctious laughter. She grabs Ren’s arm and drags him back up the stairs and onto the deck.

*

“See anything?” Ren calls from where he leans against the sides of the boat, just under the sail, and the tallest mast on the ship. That is where Penny has made her home, her body but a black speck upon the crow’s nest.

“Nope, nothing!” Penny shouts, though her voice is faded, carried by the wind. The ship continues to make its way through the sea, with absolutely no land in sight. Are they already in Ilecthia? Will there be land? Ren hopes so, because he doesn’t want to have to fight the next Horseman in an underwater temple or anything.

“Wait! I…I see something!” Penny shouts. “I see…there’s, like, this flock of birds or something!”

A flock of birds? Ren squints in the direction that she points, and lo and behold, there is certainly a cloud of gold in the distance. Gold, or just shiny yellow. He’s never seen seabirds like these before—gulls and albatross tend to be predominantly white, right?

“Harpies!” Penny shouts. “They’re Harpies!”

Harpies? What the heck are those?

“Harpies? Are you sure?” Clemon’s voice tears through the air. As they near the cloud—no, the cloud is nearing them—Ren can hear it. The ugly squawks and screeches, the mighty beat of their wings. Vane draws his sword, and Gridel nocks a bolt into her crossbow.

“Penny, get down from there!” Ren screams.

The Harpies rapidly approach, and it is then that Ren can see them for what they are. Abominations with human heads and a fowl’s body, dishevelled long hair trailing behind them as they swoop in for the attack.

Ren whips Ifrit out—somewhat glad that he didn’t have a chance to put his things in his cabin—and imagines a wave of flames. From Ifrit’s ruby bursts a stream of fire, but the Harpies fan out, almost in perfect formation, as if they’ve done this before. The fire streaks past them, disappearing into the dark clouds in the distance. Ren’s gaze follows them, only then noticing that they’re surrounding the ship.

Ren barely has time to react when one of these half-man, half-bird creatures makes for him. It screeches, talons raised and prepared to rip his eyeballs out. Ren raises his rod just in time to block its claws, pushing against the bird and sending it tumbling through the air.

There are way too many Harpies for them to contend with. They make skilful swoops, diving with their talons outstretched and ready to tear them to shreds. Ren slams his rod into one, wielding Ifrit like a baseball bat. The Harpy darts away, one of its wings flapping funny.

However, it is at that one moment, when Ren straightens his posture in triumph, that something snatches at him from behind, talons grabbing the hem of his robes and lifting him into the air. No sooner had Ren’s feet left the deck did something zoom through the air and pierced the Harpy’s back.

Feathers scatter, and the Harpy screeches, releasing Ren who drops several inches to the ground like a stone, landing harshly on his rear end. Vane steps in, slashing at a couple of Harpies with his sword and cutting them in two. Sure enough, they’re thinning the flock, with Harpies dropping left, right, centre.

Ren lifts his rod, about to fire another bolt of fire, when suddenly, an explosion rings out in the distance. No, not an explosion. The clap of rolling thunder. Ren glances up at the sky, gawping at the blanket of dark clouds. When did those get there?

“It’s gonna…” Clemon starts, firing off bullet after bullet from his pistol, bullets striking the avian monsters and splattering blood all over the deck. “Rain! There’s a storm on its way!”

“Clemon, can you drive us out of it?” Penny asks. Lightning zaps the water, forking across the sky in a brilliant flash. Clemon shoots another Harpy and opens his mouth to answer, but another sharp crack of thunder drowns out his reply.

By now, the sky above them is so dark that it borders on blackness. A downpour descends from the heavens, heralding Aquarius’ wrath. The waves turn choppy, throwing Ren from port side to starboard. Ren crashes into the hull of the ship, wincing as the edge of the wood digs into his side. He peels himself from it, staggering back onto his feet, only to fall victim to another vicious rock of the boat.

Ren’s muscles tense as a bolt of lightning strikes a Harpy just over their heads, and it lets out the most blood-curling screech that Ren’s ever heard. It convulses, wings bent every which way, the faint stench of smoking flesh wafting into Ren’s nose. The Harpy falls to the deck, body sooty and almost unrecognizable, its face contorted into an expression of pure agony. Ren fights the bile in his throat.

Just then, an explosion rings out in the air. A real explosion, this time. Ren whips his head around, just in time to see a silhouette through the fog. It appears to be in the shape of a ship, sails out and cutting through the water, heading straight towards them. The figurehead of a fair maiden appears through the fog, bronze in the dim light.

Another explosion rips at Ren’s ears, followed by an audible splash. Something large hit the water, and he can only wonder what that was.

Alarmed by the new arrival, the Harpies take to the skies, beating their mighty wings and darting away. Ren watches as they go, squinting against the pound of raindrops at his eyes, completely soaking his face and his robes.

“Uh…what’s that?” Penny shouts. Vane and Gridel turn to face the incoming ship, which shows no signs of stopping and is instead turning, such that it’s lined up with their ship.

“Everyone! Hang on tight!” Clemon yells.

Ren yelps at the sudden jerk of the vessel as the Seastar fights the raging currents, sails pulled taut by the icy drafts. Raindrops splash upon the deck, the corpses of Harpies thrown with the motion of the ship. Behind them, Clemon struggles to steer the ship, yanking the wheel as he tries to command the Seastar.

In the next instant, a shot has Ren tossed against the deck, rolling away from the starboard side. He scrambles to his feet, taking care to avoid the sliding Harpy corpses. Splintered driftwood litter the ground, and is it just him, or is the ship getting lower and lower?

“We’re hit!” Clemon hollers.

Hit? Was that what that sound was? Ren thumps his palm against his temple, eyes widening when he sees it. A big, fat metal ball hurled into the hull of their ship, smashing into their cabins, the dining area, and everything underneath. They’re sinking, and fast.

“Clemon! Hurry!” Vane snarls.

“I’m trying! I’m trying!”

Two more cannonballs crash into the Seastar, and more debris rains to the churning waves below. The bow of their ship has been reduced to smithereens and clinging to the side of the ship is all Ren can do not to fall right into the chilly fingers of death that is the sea. And yet, despair grips him as tightly as he grips Ifrit. There’s nothing that Clemon can do now, not when their ship has four big holes in it and the enemy ship is planning on blasting a couple more for good measure.

However, Ren needn’t dwell on that thought, for the next moment, a sharp neigh silences the engaging parties. Ren stares up at the sky, at the white horse and its team galloping across the sky.

They’ve officially entered the reign of the next Horseman, it seems, but they are going to leave it as quickly as they came. The storm grows ever stronger, and the rain comes down ever harder, pelting against Ren, almost like hailstones.

“Ren!” Gridel screams.

Ren barely has time to register the bang that stabs his ears, the white spark in his peripheral vision, before it’s too late. A cannonball is flying straight at him, at him standing at the ruined bow.

Ren doesn’t even have time to shut his eyes and brace for the impact.

*

The water is cooling. It’s calm, and flowing, and nurses his sore limbs. Ren blinks blearily up at the sky, at the sky of a shade so red it hurts his eyes. A faint song floats in the distance.

It’s a voice unlike what he’s heard before. It’s so serene, like he’s listening to a lullaby. He can shut his eyes and let his mind wander, as freely as it did when he was a child. Staring up at the clouds in the sky and making shapes from them.

A wave of sleepiness washes over him, much like the gentle water that lifts him up. Ren closes his eyes, surrendering himself to the drowsiness once more, and allows himself to drift away.

*

When Ren next awakens, he finds himself on dry land. Twitching fingers close around grainy sand, and palm leaves sway above him. Ren props himself up on his elbows, rubbing at his throbbing temple. What happened? Where the hell…is he?

Glancing around, at the piles of jagged wood and shredded sails, Ren surmises that the Seastar’s wrecked, with absolutely no hope for repair. It’s a shame—that was probably one of Gravelle’s best seafaring vessels, too. Ren spots Ifrit stuck into the sand, the once-ruby orb now sporting a startling lack of colour.

Ren stumbles to his feet and over to Ifrit. When his fingers curl around it, a sense of familiarity fills him. A sense of rightness, if you will. He digs Ifrit out of the sand and turns to survey his surroundings. More closely, this time.

All that Ren can see for miles are trees. Trees, trees and more trees, most of them palm trees, but there are a couple of fern-like plants as well, and farther in are the kinds of broadleaved trees that he is more familiar with. The beach stretches almost boundlessly, curving into a crescent shape, with the sea just beyond it. To his left lies a mountain of sorts. Or, rather, a small rocky hill. However, most importantly…

Ren does not see anyone, not even amongst the shipwreck. He shuffles along the beach, glancing behind piles of debris, the mast utterly torn and broken, and snapped planks. He hoped to find Penny, Gridel or Vane…Hell, even Clemon.

Just as Ren makes it to the other end of the wreckage, he notices a figure appearing from behind the small hill, and Ren has never been so glad in his life.

“Vane!” Ren calls, waving and running over. Vane shouts something, vaguely reminiscent of Ren’s name, and meets him halfway. Ren wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting. If Vane were Penny, she would have hugged him tight in relief, and Ren would have returned the gesture, but…

Vane stops just in front of Ren, and Ren skids to a halt in front of him. Vane’s gaze roves over Ren, as if searching for something. He coughs.

“Are you alright, Master Ren?”

If Ren had any injuries, he didn’t see or feel them. “I’m good.”

“Have you seen Lady Penny, Gridel or Clemon?”

Ren shakes his head. “Sorry, I didn’t. I just woke up here and…”

Vane averts his gaze. “I see. I’ve been circling the island’s perimeter for a while now, but I’ve yet to catch sight of any of them.”

As much as the obvious conclusion is that…Ren purses his lips. He doesn’t want to think about that. They shouldn’t give up so easily. Perhaps those three headed into the forest or the hill in search of the two of them.

“We should go search for them,” Ren says. “Come on.”

Vane looks doubtful, the apprehension clear in his frown, but he acquiesces. Ren turns towards the forest, staring at the dense trees and ferns and wondering whether they’d crumble under his touch like the grass of the Ashen Plains.

The forest gradually gets darker and darker the farther they walk. Vane treads silently behind Ren, the latter seemingly stepping on every single branch upon the soil. This place looks relatively untouched by civilization of any sort, or any animal, to be honest. They trudge through the forest, pushing aside curtains of vines and ivy, brushing past thorny bushes.

Neither of them speaks much throughout the whole forage. There isn’t much to talk about, really. Not when they don’t even know whether Penny, Gridel or Clemon are safe. The longer they walk, the more frantic Ren gets, casting sweeping gazes at the undergrowth. He clenches and unclenches his clammy palms, doing his best to beat back the pounding of his heart.

That is, until he hears the sound of running water. Are they near a stream? Might Penny or one of the others be there? Ren makes for the noise, almost tripping over a root. He swipes the leaves blocking his path and comes to a clearing in the forest, and a very familiar man crouched with his back to Ren, seemingly trying to stoke a fire.

“Clemon!” Ren runs over to him, and at the mention of his name, Clemon gasps and turns, almost falling flat on his butt.

“S-Stay back!” Clemon whips his pistol out and waves it at Ren. Ren holds up his hands, digging his heels into the ground and stopping. Vane draws his sword, fixing Clemon with a steely glare.

“How dare you threaten the Luminary,” Vane snarls, Claymore held out in front of him.

“I-I don’t know that,” Clemon whimpers, clearly distraught, hands trembling so hard that Ren fears he might accidentally discharge the firearm. “You could be a Siren for all I know!”

A Siren? Ren’s heard of those before. Perhaps from listening to one of Penny’s stories or read in one of those books on magical creatures.

“If Sirens live on this isle, I can assure you we’re no Sirens,” Vane says sternly.

“Sounds…sounds exactly like what a Siren would say.”

Ren backs away, giving Clemon some space. “We can prove to you that we’re the real deal, alright? Look, I have Ifrit here with me.”

Clemon’s gaze shifts to the rod, then quickly back to Ren and Vane. Ifrit’s orb fills with a deep blood red.

“I’m gonna make a fireball. Sirens can’t do that, right, so if I do it, then that means I’m not a Siren, right?”

Clemon nods.

Ren raises his rod to the sky and sends a fiery sphere into the clouds, a stream of fire trailing after it. Ren watches Clemon’s expression, as the boy’s gaze follows it, which then falls back to Ren and Vane.

“Do you believe us now?”

Clemon turns to Vane. “How do you intend on proving your identity?”

Vane holds Claymore just above the ground and drives the tip of his blade into the soil. Small stalactites burst from where the sword drills into the ground.

“This is Claymore, the authentic article,” Vane says. “Are you convinced now?”

Clemon nods. He lowers his pistol, but before he can move another muscle, Vane holds his sword out at him, blade glinting menacingly.

“What about you?” Vane asks. “You could be a Siren for all we know.”

“That’s true…” Clemon mumbles. In one swift move, he hurls the pistol at their feet, the weapon landing with a soft thump upon the soil. Clemon holds his hands up. “I’ve just thrown away my only weapon. I put my life in your hands.”

And with that, Ren breathes a sigh of relief and Vane sheathes his sword. Clemon notices the gesture and he stops shivering. Vane strides over to him and offers him a hand. Clemon gratefully takes it.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Vane knees him in the gut. Clemon’s eyes go wide, lips parted as he coughs. He goes flying with a roundhouse kick, smashing into a tree. It is then that the Siren’s illusion fizzles, and Ren gasps as he sees its true form.

“Clemon’s” human limbs mould back into wings, and the Siren screeches in pain, blood trickling down its head where it struck the trunk. Vane draws his sword again and holds it out to the Siren.

“You wretched…how?” the Siren hisses, snapping its beak, peeling itself off the ground and standing back up on its own two feet.

“I wasn’t entirely sure, so I needed confirmation. You gave yourself away when you threw away the pistol,” Vane says. “Oftentimes, throwing one’s weapon away is an indication that they mean no harm. However, in this case, it is different.”

Ren turns from the Siren, to Vane, and back to the Siren.

“You clearly knew you were in no danger, so long as we bought your act,” Vane continues. “If it were the real Clemon, he would not have abandoned his only form of protection like that so readily.”

The Siren harrumphs. It spreads its wings and takes to the skies, bursting through the canopies above.

“W-Wait!” Ren shouts, but the Siren ignores him. It soars in the direction of the rocky hill, likely where the rest of its brethren nest. Ren turns to Vane, who’s picked Clemon’s pistol from the ground. He gives it a good once-over, turning it over in his hand, a wistful expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Ren asks. “If they know what Clemon looks like, then that means that they have him, don’t they?”

“Do you know what Sirens are?” Vane asks, tying the pistol to his belt, beside the sheath of his sword.

“Uh…no. I heard of them before, though.”

“I’ve also only ever encountered them in books. They are creatures who live on deserted isles like these,” Vane says. “Sailors are enamoured by their song, and so beach or wreck their ship upon the shore. Once their prey has been cornered, these hideous monsters cast illusions and mimic the voices of people they know to lull them into a false sense of security. And when they fall for the Sirens’ trickery, that’s when the Sirens strike.”

“Strike?”

Vane sighs. “They’re man-eating creatures. If the Sirens have discovered Clemon before us, then that means that they would have had a rather hearty meal already.”

Then the only thing left to discover is…Ren gulps. The thought never did occur to him. He’d just assumed that the Sirens would be keeping him captive in that hill of theirs.

“And the fact that this pistol lies in our possession now is…well, you know why,” Vane says.

Clemon was younger than both Ren and Penny. He had a whole life on the sea ahead of him, and yet he was…the first one to go. Ren’s jaw tics.

“Do you think Penny and Gridel are…” Ren looks up at Vane, who merely stares ahead.

“There is one more thing about Sirens that few people know of,” Vane says. “It is that they cannot reproduce, being an entirely female race.”

“I know of an entirely-female lizard race that can reproduce.”

Vane pulls a face. “That’s besides the point. What I’m trying to say is that to grow their numbers, Sirens will take captive women they find and transform them into one of their own.”

“Wait, so—” Ren starts, in the face of a horrible, horrible speculation. Vane’s features turn dark.

“Yes, and that is likely why there are so few of them around now, and why we must journey to the Sirens’ abode.”