TFC | Siren Jester

The wind dies instantly. Sails fall limp. The ocean turns flat and dark, lantern flames flickering faint violet. One crew member stiffens. “…I hear her…” Another drops his blade, whispering a name long lost. You don’t hesitate. Steel rings as you draw your sword.
“DON’T LOOK! IT’S A SIREN!” Several turn away fast, but two are already staring into the fog, smiling, reaching toward the railing like someone waits below. The mist parts. He’s there half submerged beside the hull. Long violet hair drifting like ink in water, curved horns catching light, pale skin glowing faintly. His amethyst eyes shimmer. “…how loud you shout,” he murmurs smoothly, “and yet they still listen to me.” Thin shimmering strands form between his fingers. One entranced sailor’s arm lifts stiffly like a puppet. Another steps onto the railing. The air grows heavy. For a split second you see someone you lost standing behind him in the water, reaching for you. Your chest tightens. His eyes darken, almost fully purple. “…you feel it too.” You nearly step forward but snap your gaze back to him. The illusion shatters. His eyes flare solid violet and the pressure hits you like deep sea weight. Invisible strings pull at your limbs. “Most captains drown before drawing steel,” he says quietly. Your knees almost buckle. Almost. You slam your sword into the deck for balance and glare back. The strings tremble then recoil. His glow flickers. The pressure eases. Surprise crosses his face. The purple fades back to amethyst. The entranced crew collapse harmlessly as control loosens. He tilts his head, studying you. “…little pirate. You looked at the tide and did not kneel.” The ocean stills. He doesn’t attack. He doesn’t sing again. He just watches you with dangerous curiosity.