Tess woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. She was ready for her test. All she had to do was wait for it to begin. She changed into day clothes and made her way to the breakfast hall to see the rest of the sirens were eating.

“Priestess! Come sit by me!” a young siren, seated at the opposite end of the table, called. Tess hesitated, her place was normally by Matera.

What was one day of inconsistency? Tess grinned, making her way over to the reserved spot. “How are you today, Aterea?” Tess asked, sitting next to the young siren.

“I’m so excited!” She gushed. “I get to start my magic training tomorrow!”

“That’s wonderful news,” Tess replied, matching the young siren’s excitement. “You’ll do excellent in your studies.”

Aterea brimmed with excitement at Tess’ encouragement. “If Matera says it’s okay, can I watch your test this morning?”

“If you can get her to agree to it,” Tess glanced at her plate that had been served to her. It comprised eggs with strips of cooked meat. There were two glasses brought to her to complement her breakfast. One water and the other filled partially with blood. Tess took the glass of blood and took a sip. Cold. She did her best not to grimace.

“Priestess, are you okay?” Aterea asked, noticing Tess’ discomfort.

“I’m okay,” Tess answered, gingerly putting the cup back down. “I just prefer the drink warm.” Blood was easier to drink warmed up, it hid the metallic taste better. One thing she knew was that, whether or not it was warm, it influenced her magic. “You better go ask Matera before she goes to set the test up.” Tess encouraged Aterea to ask permission.

Aterea smiled towards Tess, showing off her dark needle-like teeth, then ran off. Tess watched as she raced to Matera’s side and got her attention. “Priestess, how is your meal?” a servant asked as they refilled another siren’s glass.

Tess looked at her breakfast. She suddenly wasn’t hungry. “It’s fine, thank you Dorian,” Tess replied, not looking at him. As she ate her meal, anxiety for her upcoming test was forming in the pit of her stomach.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Dorian replied, backing away to the wall, not waiting for her to reply.

Tess looked at Matera to see her gaze had settled on her once more. Probably making sure she didn’t distract the servants. They had punished her several times for making friends with them. Now she did her best to hold conversations with them when she was alone. She didn’t want to know what Matera would force her to do if she found out she still had a few troll friends.

Before Tess knew it, breakfast was over, and she was on her way to the testing room. Matera had instructed her to wait outside the doors, as she made sure everything was ready. Tess’ heart beat frantically. Even though she knew what the test would be, she was still nervous. Would she mess up this time? Would she falter like she did the first time? Even though she’s had similar tests in the last few months. If she completed this test to Matera’s standards, she’d be moving on to more advanced magic. She couldn’t mess up.

The doors swung open to show Matera in the room. Lights dimly glowing behind her, showing a small audience waiting for her. “My priestess, are you ready to begin?”

Tess nodded, then walked into the room, Matera closing the doors behind them. She walked to the table at the side of the room, looking at the instruments sitting there. All lethal items. All items for rituals. Tess glanced behind the table when she heard stifled giggling. Aterea had convinced Matera to let her in.

Tess gave a small wave, making Aterea return the gesture as she nearly fell off her chair in excitement. Tess looked back at the table and picked up a thin, jeweled knife. A witches athame. Matera had given it to her within the first few months of her being there. She had completed her first full ritual using this very knife. It was now her favorite instrument of her entire collection to use. She held it at her waist, pointing it to the ground, while both hands rested on the hilt. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, preparing herself for what she was about to see. It was always the same thing. As part of preparing for a future ritual, the sirens believed this would be the best method.

“Are you ready?” Matera asked, as Tess made her way to the middle of the room.

“Yes, mother,” Tess answered, solemnly. She turned, so the doors were behind her, and looked at the two figures kneeling on the ground in front of her. Both were sailors from the most recent ship raids. Their wrist were tied securely behind themselves, then tied to their ankles. They had sat two large bowls in front of them. They removed the sacks from their heads to reveal Tom’s face glamoured over the sailors.

“You may begin,” Matera called from behind Tess.

Tess walked up to the first one, kneeling at their side. Looking on with hardened eyes. The sailor was shivering with fear as Tess grabbed his hair and forced his head back. She was thankful for the prep the sirens put in beforehand. The man’s struggles were barely noticeable as he tried to wretch himself away.

She brought her blade to his neck; her face unchanging as he whispered pleas of forgiveness and mercy. It wouldn’t have shocked Tess in the slightest if the man had wet his pants. She sliced into his neck, blinking rapidly when a few droplets of blood splattered on her face. She held the man over the bowl, ensuring his death throes didn’t waste any of his blood on the floor.

Tess moved over to the second sailor, who was cowering in fear. He bowed before her, tears wetting his face as he watched his fellow sailor bleed into the bowl in front of him. This one was louder with his cries for mercy, a younger voice. He struggled more when she grabbed his hair, terrified of his young life being cut so short. Tess pursed her lips as he wiggled more than the older sailor. She had a hard time keeping her grip on his hair. She should feel mercy for them, but sirens had found encroaching on their hunting grounds.

She repeated the same action as before. Using her athame to cut the man’s throat and let him bleed out in the bowl. She watched as his glamour faded, revealing his weatherworn face. His features contrasting against his now paling face. A scar revealed itself along his cheek, trailing up to his eye. The light faded from his crystal blue eyes, reminding her of Theo. Theo… Tess brought her attention back to her task at hand. Finish the ritual.

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Tess moved to the side of the room as the men bled into their respective bowls. She grabbed a blackthorn branch she had gathered earlier that week. Minding the thorns, she carried the small limb to the bowls.

They moved the sailors from their bowls, their lifeless bodies collapsed at the side of the room. She carefully brought the bowls closer to her workspace, dipping the leafed end in. Tess covered the leaves with blood, allowing it to drip back into the bowl when she lifted the branch out of the bowl. She painted a circle close to the sacrifices with her branch brush. Renewing the branch with more blood if she ran out of it. She drew symbol after symbol on the ground, lost in her own thoughts. She continued until the outside of the circle was full.

Once she was done, she knelt down inside the circle. She bowed low and began reciting a spell she had been learning for the past few weeks. It was to grant her strength and help her become the leader the sirens needed. After, Matera stepped down in the future.

“Very good,” Matera beamed once the ritual was done and Tess had walked over to her. “Make sure you clean yourself up before your next lesson.”

Tess gave a small nod towards Matera. “Yes, mother.” She cleaned her athame with a cloth that was on the supply table, then left her knife there. She took a wet cloth from Aterea to clean her face and hands. It wasn’t long before she was immersed in her next task, the sailors being the furthest thing from her mind.

——

Tom woke up in a sweat. Dreams of Tess being tortured by sirens plagued him. He looked around the room to see the other sailors still sleeping around him. He got out of his hammock and went to the upper deck, breathing in the crisp morning air.

They had docked the previous night. The sailors immediately went to the bars, sloshing their way back to the ship in the early morning. Destru and Tom spent the night planning on how they were going to kidnap the government official. Specifically on how they would get information before the police were after them.

He looked towards town when he heard loud shouting coming from a bar. Probably Destru annoying a barkeep's son once again. Sighing, Tom walked towards town. Why was he the babysitter?

Tom found his way to the brawl that had made its way to the street. It wasn’t anyone from the ship. Tom leaned against the corner of a house, watching as two drunks yelled and swung at each other. A small crowd formed as he watched from the shadows.

The fight wasn’t as exciting as he had hoped it would be. The drunks staggered so much their hits weren’t finding their marks. Their insults too slurred to be coherent. Tom’s eyes wandered the street as the crowd became bored with the fight. He stopped when he saw an orange tabby sitting nonchalantly on a barrel, watching the fight.

The cat watched the fight disinterestedly. Its front paws tucked under its chest as its tail swung lazily behind it. Most cats would’ve startled from the commotion. Why didn’t this one?

Tom jumped in surprise when a hand took his shoulder. “Good fight?” Destrus voice asked from behind him, before Tom had the chance to swing his arm.

Tom looked towards Destru before glancing back at the barrels. The cat was gone. Had he imagined it? “Nothing exciting,” Tom finally stuttered out, his mind reeling.

“Come back to the ship. We need to make sure we’re ready for supper.” Destru walked towards the docks.

“What’s at supper?” Tom asked, curiosity peaked, his ears perking forward in interest.

“I’ve bought information on where our government pal will eat tonight.” Destru smirked, showing teeth.

“I thought we were-“ Tom started, as he attempted to figure out how supper fit in with their plans for the evening.

“That’ll be if he doesn’t cooperate,” Destru brushed off his concern. “Find a nice outfit and I’ll see you at supper.”

Tom groaned as Destru’s spur-of-the-moment plan took him by surprise. Find a nice outfit? He didn’t think he had one anymore.

——

Tom stood in front of a broken mirror in the sleeping area of the ship. He finished buttoning a shirt he could buy from the market earlier in the day. He let out a slow breath as he attempted to brush out his hair.

If supper went better than he thought it would, they might have a new destination for the morning. After a few minutes, Tom shook his head, his hair following his movements. That was as good as that was getting. “This better work,” he muttered to himself as he walked to the upper deck.

Destru greeted him by the plank. He was dressed in a nice blue long coat, adorned with gold chains. He opted for a less holey shirt than he usually wore and made sure his hat had been refreshed.

“Lookin’ sharp, Cap’n.” Rune saluted as he rushed below deck for supper. The crew was to stay on the ship so they could head out immediately should things turn south.

“Ready?” Destru asked, offering his arm to Tom.

“As I’ll ever be,” Tom replied, ignoring Destru’s gesture, walking to the dock. His nerves were getting the better of him. How many things could go wrong if they weren’t careful?

Destru sulked as he joined Tom on the dock before leading the way to the restaurant.

—-

Tom stood by the bar of the restaurant. Destru had bought a round of shots for a few people at the bar. He frowned as he looked out at the tables of people eating. Nobody looked like they were from the government. He shook his head; he knew little about politics or the people behind them. “Having fun, Wilkie?” Destru asked, shoving a pint into Tom’s hands.

“How many shots have you had?” Tom asked, annoyed. This had been Destru’s idea. Why wasn’t he helping?

“Enough to know you’re still no fun,” Destru pouted, and looked around the room. “He’s still not here,” he grumbled.

The pair waited at the bar for what seemed like hours. Destru continued doing shots with the patrons, while Tom kept watch of the diners. Finally, a well-rounded man followed by a small entourage of security walked through. They made their way to the back of the restaurant, few patrons paying mind to them. “Destru,” Tom elbowed him in the ribs, making him spill his newest shot.

“Wilkie!” Destru cried out, looking at his spilled drink. “What was that for?”

“In the back,” Tom nodded. The man disappeared behind a curtain, waitresses rushing behind him. Trying to make sure he was taken care of before he sat down.

Destru nodded, turning back to the bar to Tom’s dismay. “Give him a few minutes to settle down, then we’ll go join him.”

“Fine.” Tom sank into a bar seat, motioning to the bartender for a drink. It wasn’t until his drink was almost gone, when Destru went to the back of the restaurant. Tom pulled himself up from the chair he was occupying. He was getting tired. The restaurant was nearly empty by now. How late was it?

Destru held a finger to his mouth as he reached for the curtain. Tom’s ears swiveled around, trying to hear sounds from the backroom, but it was unnervingly quiet. “Destru,” Tom whispered, only to be shushed by the older wolf. Tom laid his ears back in annoyance, but complied.

Destru moved the curtain, allowing Tom to pass through first.

Tom wasn’t sure what he expected, but an extended hallway wasn’t it. He walked down the hallway, Destru not far behind him. A feeling of unease filling him, dulled by the alcohol consumed earlier. Only slowing when he heard talking ahead of them. He felt his ear perk forward in anticipation. There was no way to predict what happened next.