The week started on a hopeful note.

Neat piles of gold shone in the light that streamed onto my desk, two-hundred and ninety-four, the last mound being added after a fruitful trip to the zoological guild. They paid handsomely, and that, combined with the Dogmens’ payment, brought me closer to my goal. A part of me had worried they, or the succubus, would be waiting in my room upon my respawn, but no one else was present.

A true blessing. As a bonus, my copy of the demonic book remained in my bag, a potentially powerful souvenir.

Of course, my life couldn’t remain easy. With financial success comes its counterbalance, in this case, a dragon attack. My entire building shook as the dragon’s bestial roars echoed overhead. My knees stung as they slammed into the ground, my haste getting the better of me in my quest to hide under the desk. Gold coins scattered around me, twinkling lights bouncing around the floor. Ironic that. A dragon disturbing my hoard.

Prayers to the pantheon fell from my lips, though Lutheris received an extra one when the dragon’s wing once again flashed by my window. The house shook, but my attention remained focused on collecting the coins back into the bag hidden on my desk.

Another roar, another shake, which drew my attention to my bed. It was sturdy, the most robust piece of furniture in the room. The question was, was it robust enough to survive the collapse of the house? If not, my chances of permanent death shot up.

No use worrying about it, not when bigger concerns flew so close by; and this time, my focus wasn’t on the dragon. A group of people soared through the air, the one at the front dressed in flowing robes wielding a glowing staff. Behind the mage was a mixed crew, all wearing leather armor and bearing spears and bows.

Their projectiles bounced off the dragons’ gleaming scales, but a few stuck into the beasts’ hide.

The dragon roared, and one member of the group right in the back flinched. Something glinted on his chest, drawing my eye, which widened as the badge became visible. That was the upper floor surveyor’s crest, the winking fox, but in gold as opposed to my silver. An upper floor resident then. Did The Council know about this? Did they want this to happen?

Screams and smoke filled the air, pulling my attention back to my current surroundings. A rush of air followed the crackling of flames as a nearby building caught fire. More screams. More angry roars came from the dragon. Sounds of battle raged until dusk, moving through the city and over the bay. The sun’s rays diminished alongside the noise, the last speck of sunset accompanied by a final splash.

Night, covering any signs of the dragon’s corpse.

No one in the city needed the body to understand. The beast was dead. All thanks to our esteemed adventurers. A few seconds of silence reigned, quiet after a day full of sounds; then the cheering started.

Foolhardy idiots lined the docks, screaming and cheering in the torchlight. Though, when scanning the crowd, not everyone was thrilled. Sour faces were plain on those huddling in the shadow of smoldering buildings.

Before the cheering died down, fireworks started lighting up the sky with multicolored dragons. Portraits of the adventurers appeared next, vapid smiles on full display. Next came weapons and illusionary roars, the battle told in miniature to an awe-struck crowd. It made me sick, and another scan of the crowd showed a majority fell into the same boat.

Nearby, a woman clutched a crying child as she stared at a ruined home. Three men poured buckets of water onto a nearby bakery, its sign shattered on the street. An older gentleman picked through a wrecked boat, that was smashed upon the rocks.

My gaze moved up, scanning the skyline for other recent changes, and one caught my attention—the blue fox was gone. The guildhall was on fire. Mounts streamed from the burning building, each rider weighed down with sacks or chests, as they flew into the darkness.

Not a single one stopped to check on the rest of the building.

Some stayed close, though they hovered above any danger. A burning ember floated down and landed on the roof of one of the nearby stores. They responded to that building going up. Each summoning spells, or using magical items to fight the fires that now spread around the business.

They stayed to save the merchandise. Products owned by The Council's family put ahead of any lives trapped inside The Guildhall. Hell, put ahead of anyone in the immediate area who might need the help.

We weren’t heroes. That fact was repeated by my superiors through word and deed. But this? This was wrong. Being a decent person doesn't require you to be a hero. A sneer formed on my face as they continued to battle the fires.

The single saving grace was that my Master wasn’t with them.

My anger abated after sucking in a deep breath. Nothing to be done about it, but others may yet need help. An elderly couple lived beneath me, and so time to do what my so-called superiors wouldn’t.

Besides, they wouldn’t need me to come to work tomorrow, anyway.

***

The Guild was low on the priority list of repairs, leaving it a ruin for the rest of the week. A fact, the higher-ups used as an excuse to take time off, while they expected us on the lower floor to continue conducting business under whatever shelter we could find. Not that anyone came. The King was livid, and any smart Adventurer was keeping their heads down.

My colleagues left for lunch, leaving me alone to my sketching. Lines turned into shapes as my quill scratched over parchment. An image of the docks coming into focus.

It was empty of ships, broken pillars dotting a white void. None of the dockworkers appeared in my sketch; my intent was to show the destruction caused. This didn’t need to happen. The Adventurers could have fought outside the walls. But when did they care who they hurt? A question asked by many a surveyor.

Not that we were much better.

That thought led me to Minnius, and the Slime Queen. Both killed me. Though why not? My entire presence there was to make it easier for someone to slay them. A minimum amount of coin, so Adventurers could hunt without getting lost. At least Minnius got something out of it, provided the barbarians followed my instructions.

A sharp cough interrupted my musing. Startled, my hand twitched, leaving an ink trail along the parchment, causing me to sigh in frustration. So close to done. My roaming gaze caught the bemused expression of the well-dressed ratfolk standing beside me, who bowed and doffed his top hat.

“My good sir,” He started, his accent foreign but with a clear upper-class drawl. “Are you still available to hire?”

“Of course, sir. How may I assist?” My voice was devoid of embarrassment from letting him see my frustration.

His whiskers twitched as he nodded towards the docks. “Rattock Bilgeguard, a pleasure. Have you heard about the islands? We’ve been having more trouble on the waters than this incident, I’m afraid.”

“Enough to do my job, sir.” My reply was chipper. While no one had asked me to travel to them, we’d all seen maps depicting the surroundings during training.

“Well, you would know the siren, Nonasia. Dreadful business for my trade vessels. Dreadful!” Rattock said.

While he spoke, he stamped his feet and gestured recklessly about with his cane, coming close to hitting me more than once. Nonasia, the siren who dwelled in the nearby waters, was causing him grief. She charmed the captain and crew, destroying his most prized ships.

The S.S. Plague Bearer being the latest.

This had become a common story among the traders, each losing vessels to her hunts. The Adventures Guild refused to help, citing unmapped underwater dungeons as being too big a risk. When asked, the upper floor surveyors demanded exorbitant prices, while disparaging the product of the lower floors.

Desperation was the single factor in bringing him to me now.

While my guild mates’ opinions were disheartening, the job he offered was intriguing. To experience a siren song myself? Few others could survive that. Thoughts about getting a recording flashed through my mind, but it wasn’t practical. Devices that could record sound were rare, and without knowing if it would keep its magical properties, the risk was high. No reason to get arrested over accidental mind control.

Rattock dashed my hopes that he would be like the noble-born elf when he handed over the standard fifteen coins, though he promised to prepare a vessel for the next evening.

Apparently, she hunted during the day, and he wanted to give me the maximum time, and of course, keep his property out of danger.

He bowed again before leaving, his bald tail whipping around the next corner as he scurried away. When the other hopefuls returned, we chatted, and they dropped interesting gossip. Apparently, the Adventurers lured the dragon to The Capitol, so they wouldn’t have to carry the dragon’s corpse. Lazy bastards.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The juiciest gossip came after, however. Someone confirmed that an upper floor surveyor accompanied them. Allegedly, one of The Council’s family-owned stores went and cut some sort of deal with the adventuring party. That got a reaction. Gasps from the newer members, and side-eyed looks from the older ones.

An older surveyor loudly calculated how much money they would make with newer buildings.

It turned out to be a lot when you factored in the King’s decree that the crown would give financial aid to any rebuilding efforts. For the nobility, of course. Anyone who wasn’t rich or important was on their own. Typical. The amount made the measly Seven-hundred and a bit of gold that stood between me and my opportunity to complete the competition look like chump change.

A younger catkin boy sneezed, wiping his nose on his ragged tunic before giving a deep, chesty cough. Poor kid. His illness wasn’t getting better, and it was causing him to lose work. He never complained as they trained us.

Watching him splutter and shiver made me wonder. Was this competition worth it? Was getting to the upper floors something anyone should aspire to? The look on the faces surrounding me caused my stomach to sink with the weight of the answer.

Corrupt or not, the opulence would be worth it. Right?

***

The frigid night air caressing my bare skin as it made its way through the holes in my tunic wasn’t the sole cause of my shivering. An eerie silence pervaded the docks this late at night. No one remaining to create the usual noise.

No hammers beating, or supervisors shouting to unload cargo at midnight. A part of me worried about getting caught in a Thieve’s Guild plan, either as an accomplice or a witness needing to be disposed of.

Ocean ripples reflected the light of the grimy oil lanterns, the dragon’s corpse long pulled from the water. Several mages worked in tandem to retrieve the body, hired at the King’s expense, much to his displeasure. Not that we didn’t pay in the end.

Pamphlets describing the incoming tax increases circulated throughout the city. The royal guards followed them, manhandling anyone who complained in their presence.

“Uptight jerks.”

My voice broke the silence, though splashing stalled any further comments. A craft headed to shore, a rowboat rather than the promised ship. Balanced on the prow stood a female sharkkin, wearing a tricorne hat, flanked by two burly men who wielded the oars.

“You the surveyor?” Her voice was rough, holding a level of command that made me stand up straight.

“Yes, um, Captain?”

“Good, get in. We’re to row you out and that’s it,” The Captain waved at the single empty spot behind her. “You got a way back?”

“Yes. That won’t be a problem.”

The boat wobbled under my feet until one of the crew pulled me down into the seat. He sneered at me, but no one spoke a word. In the dark, nothing but the splashing oars and shoulder movements of the crew showed we were moving. Shivers wracked my body, the oppressive silence of the trip filling my head with stories about the deep.

Sure, if anything happened, it wouldn’t be a permanent inconvenience. Though that didn’t stop the pain and terror of getting drowned by a giant squid. A tapping sounded out, quiet and without rhythm. The Captain beat her tail against the boat, first on one side, then the other. Did sharkin possess innate dark vision?

That would explain the lack of torches. So the tapping was to steer. Clever, especially if you didn’t want to give your position away.

My thoughts raced back to the conversation with Rattock. He never said this ship belonged to him. Smugglers maybe? Not that it mattered now.

Shipwrecks loomed all around us as the small craft weaved its way towards the island. The Captain’s thumping grew quieter, and each splash of the oars seemed like a dinner bell.

They left me on the island without a backward glance. That was fine. There were other ways off the island.

My lantern sparked, illuminating the graveyard of ships that surrounded me. Their rotten wood creaked in the wind. Would any of these wrecks contain treasure in submerged holds? Possible, but not my job for now.

Besides, there was a limited amount of time before Nonasia woke up.

Time to get started.

***

A hair-raising hour passed while mapping the island, every step having the potential to wake a sleeping predator. Several pools of murky water dotted the island, too murky to see the bottom of. Potential passageways for the siren? Some were narrow, but others would fit a human. Stomping around didn’t seem to have much effect, and neither did throwing rocks into the larger pools.

Damn.

Her song was my way out. My death remaining my best method to leave. A stone dropped into the nearby pool received no response. Two options then: searching the nearby wrecks, or waiting for daybreak and hoping she appeared.

The first option left me soaked and injured as rotting boards plunged me into the depths. A no-go then. Death wouldn’t be the end, but getting back would prove difficult.

Clothes dripped onto the stone, reminding me to check on my sketch. Relief filled me. It was undamaged. Ink still smeared parts of it, but it appeared almost deliberate now. The scene of destruction itself destroyed, a wrecked depiction of pointless cruelty to those who believed themselves above the rules.

With nothing to sit upon, the stone leeched my warmth. The lantern’s flame flicked in the breeze, the surrounding air filled with the stink of rotting fish and sea salt. My quill scratched at the parchment until a new blend of scents appeared: dried seaweed and blood. Unpleasant, dangerous, everything told me to run — something was coming.

Art supplies spilled behind me during my dive forward. Instincts screaming at me to flee.

It took a true force of will to stand again, knees bloody where they’d scraped on the rocks, as my eye caught the rippling of a nearby pool.

She was here.

Muffled snarls and cursing filled my ears, as a figure emerged out of the pool, its attention fixated on me.

Short green hair dripped water onto bare, tanned shoulders. Her fingers dug into the stone as her dark blue eyes fixated on me. A predator eyeing her prey. Still, something about her made me want to approach her. A force drawing me to be around her, no matter the obvious risks.

“Nonasia,” My voice didn’t crack, filling me with pride. A sensation that was almost strong enough to quell the butterflies that filled my stomach.

“Who do you think it’d be, you half-wit? You’re on my island. Now get. Before I drown you,” Nonasia replied, her voice rough and throaty, as she pulled herself out of the water enough for me to see where her skin turned blue and rough. No sparkling scales here. It reminded me more of a shark, powerful and built for a single purpose. Hunting the waters.

“Um—”

She spat at my feet, interrupting me. “Are you going or not?”

My first instinct was to lie, and agree with anything she wanted. But a part of me knew it would be useless. There was nowhere on the island to hide. Besides, she was my best chance of escape. It would have to be the truth.

“No. Well, it’s more... No. Actually, I can’t leave.”

Her annoyance was obvious. Not that anyone would blame her. Who wanted strangers in their home this late? One path out remained for me, and she would have to lend aid to travel it. It was now or never.

“Can I hear you sing?”

Nonasias’ expression changed in an instant, from annoyance to bemusement. She clapped her hands together as the water splashed around her, droplets staining my picture.

“You wanna what?”

“Hear you sing.”

Water droplets ran down her arms, shining like stars under the flickering lantern light. While her limbs were thin, they were strong, with trim muscles designed to drag down prey.

“I wanted...”

“I understood what you wanted. You want to die?” She squinted at me. “You one of them Death God nutters?”

“No! No, I don’t follow Xigohr. I’m not crazy. I’m a surveyor, so I remember what happens after I die. And without a boat, I figured hearing your song was the best way out. So…”

Upon noticing her changed expression, my rambling petered out.

Her smile widened, almost splitting her face in half as more and more shark-like teeth revealed themselves.

“Oh, a mapmaker! I haven’t had the pleasure of one of those in ages. The last one wouldn’t stop crying. Big baby. Tell you what? Tell me about the landlocked people. Give me stories, and I’ll sing. Alright?” She pulled herself almost fully out of the water, only her tail fin still submerged. “Oh, I ‌love to learn about them. Is it true they build entire rooms to dump water over them?”

“Sort of?”

We talked the rest of the night; the topics ranged from the Minotaur’s Labyrinth, the Capital’s streets, the dragon attack, and how bathrooms worked. She laughed about the dragon, a beautiful melody that captured her joy. A predator enjoying the failure of a competitor. As the sun rose out, my voice grew hoarse, and she waved me to silence.

“This has been fun. You’ll come back, right?”

“No boat...” My voice was croaky and harsh, but she understood.

“That’s no problem. There are a few intact ones remaining where people have jumped overboard. I’ll bring one. We can meet south of the cliffs. Leiko, promise me you’ll come back?”

We set a date, and she made me promise to bring her food from the mainland. Her smile was terrifying but sweet at the same time. Our bargain settled, she sang.

It stirred my soul, the melody deep and primal. The song changed with every line: glass shattering, children laughing, lovers moaning, demons whispering. Nonasia held me underwater during the last part, and even as the water rushed into my nose, my relaxation remained. As my body inhaled water, one last thought remained.

Seeing her again was going to be the highlight of my month.

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ADDITIONAL NOTES

Don’t. Just. Don’t.

If you’re an adventurer, and you think targeting a siren is a good idea. Heed my earlier warning.

Don’t.

Not only is she fast, smarter than most humans, and capable of destroying ships.

She’s a friend. If you find yourself in trouble with such a monster, attempt conversation if possible.

Stories, jokes, information. Give them something, and you may make a powerful ally. If you try to fight them? Well. I hope you enjoy your personal dirge.