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Across the black ocean, the storm roared powerfully as a wild animal, the waves above him soaring in height and crashing down fiercely as if it were a thousand storms. Theseus stood his ground at the helm, his hands rough and weathered gunning for the slithery steering wheel in control to the MS Aurora’s course as if it were, literally, the last string of saved sanity. The salty sea was like a dragon unleashed against him and all the rain that came down mercilessly from the sky ultimately drenched his already waterlogged clothes. His wet, curly brown hair blew on his face as the wind howled.
But, there was no hint of doubt in his gaze because he had faced worse before. Yet this storm seemed to have a life of its own that he had never encountered before. For months, he and his crew had sailed these waters off the coast, facing those that could swallow, drawn far away from the nearest land, just to behold one creature: the Squid.
Not some regular squid, a beast so powerful, many sailors carry nighmarish descriptions of a creature of three men in length with tentacles that could sink a warship and eyes as dark as obsidian. The tales from the past were too regular for him to consider just myths, and Theseus wasn’t someone who would turn down such a summons. He had numerous entries in his books aimed at finding explanations for the unknown-Numerous such relevant information including statistics about the tides, scripts of different sightings, drawings of the region were catalogued.
Another wave struck the ship, causing it to lean so much more he could almost hear it groan. He pursed his lips and inched his way towards the stern, the entire floor almost slurry vapor swept Step by step. The ground felt slippery under his feet and the vessel was trembling as the breeze blew. He gasped and held onto the railing, His palms aching from the pressure that was exerted by the wood. Theseus’s breaths were short and quick, a bell rang, signalling that something has been caught in the net.
Theseus begins to grin widely, despite the storm he holds onto the net as if a sacred treasure, which it was in a way. He mentally began dividing the prize between him and his crew as the biting winds calmed down and the rising tides became small waves again. Theseus begins to twist the net towars himself, trying to pull it onto the ship. It felt heavy, definitely heavier than the usual fish catch, he groans and continues pulling. Despite the cold ache in his bones he doesn’t falter in his rhythm, his determination winning. With a heavy thud he manages to oull the net onto the MS Aurora, but as the tangled mass breached the surface, Theseus’ blood ran cold. It wasn’t the Squid. The thing thrashing inside the net was no beast of legend - it was something far more impossible. Tangled in the nylon was a woman. Or, at least, something that looked like one.
Her mocha-toned skin glistened in the moonlight, long wet strands of brown hair clinging to her body. But where her legs should have been was instead covered in scales, deep purple shimmering with each of her terrified movements. And there, where feet should have been, was a wide fin.
A mermaid.
Theseus stared, breathless, unable to process what he was seeing. The air between them was thick with the scent of salt and rain, the net still held taut in his hands. He shifted, unsure whether to release the ropes or pull them tighter. The mermaid’s eyes snapped open. With a hiss, she recoiled, her tail thrashing violently as she tried to free herself from the net’s grasp. Her sharp nails tore at the nylon, ripping at her tail, and she winced in pain as the net dug deeper into her scales.
Theseus’ heart raced – to his surprise not with fear, but with awe. He had expected to find a monster, but this creature, this being, was something far more mysterious, far more beautiful than anything he could have imagined. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the purple scales. The mermaid’s eyes shot open, revealing deep brown irises that glinted with both terror and anger. With a sharp hiss, she thrashed, her tail slamming against the deck as she struggled to free herself from the net. Her nails, long and sharp like claws, dug into the nylon, ripping at the ropes that ensnared her. She winced in pain as the net tightened around her tail, the scales scraping against the harsh fibers.
Theseus’ heart pounded, but not from fear. He was filled with a strange awe—he had set out to find a monster, and instead, he had found something far more mysterious, far more beautiful than he had ever imagined. The legends hadn’t prepared him for this. For a moment, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, transfixed by the shimmer of her scales, the intensity of her gaze.
“Easy… easy now,” he whispered, raising his hands slowly, showing he meant no harm. He doubted she could understand him, but the gentle tone of his voice seemed to calm her slightly. The crew stood frozen, staring wide-eyed, some murmuring prayers under their breath, while others took a step back in fear. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly. The mermaid glared at him, her chest heaving with shallow, panicked breaths, her tail still trembling in the cold air. Theseus could see the fear in her eyes, but there was something else, too—a raw intelligence, a sharpness that cut through the confusion of the moment. He had read stories of sirens, creatures that lured men to their deaths with beauty and song, but this… she was something far more tangible. “I promise,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the gentle sound of the waves, “I won’t hurt you. Trust me.”
Behind him, one of the crewmen called out, “It’s a siren! Be careful, Theseus!” The mermaid’s eyes narrowed at the warning, and she bared her teeth, sharp and predatory. Theseus raised his hands higher, stepping forward cautiously, his fascination overriding his caution. “What’s your name?” he asked gently.
“Do you have a name?” She stared at him silently, her dark eyes watching every move. After a long moment, she whispered, “Your net… it hurts.”
Without thinking, Theseus reached for his knife. The mermaid - no, the siren - let out a low growl of warning, her muscles tensing. “No,” he said softly, “I just want to help.” He motioned for his crewman, Avery, to assist. Avery hesitated but eventually moved forward, crouching beside the mermaid’s midsection, carefully loosening the ropes. But as his hands brushed against her scales, she let out a sharp, pained cry and lashed out, her nails slashing across his arm. Avery fell back with a scream, clutching his bleeding forearm. Chaos erupted on deck. The crew shouted in alarm, backing away from the mermaid, their eyes wide with terror.
Theseus quickly rushed to Avery’s side, pressing a cloth to his wound to staunch the bleeding. Avery’s blood stained his jacket, but Theseus’ mind was elsewhere. He glanced back at the mermaid - no, the woman - who now looked just as terrified as they were. Once Avery was safely inside the cabin, Theseus turned back to the woman. He knelt beside her, carefully avoiding her gaze.
“That wasn’t necessary,” he said softly. “You could have killed him.”
“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, her voice raw and trembling. “He hurt me.” Theseus looked down at her tail, where the scales around her midsection had been damaged, red and raw. His gaze softened. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll be gentle.”
Slowly, carefully, Theseus began to work the knots free, his fingers moving with a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed. She watched him closely, her dark eyes unblinking.
“Leta,” she muttered.
He looked up, confused. “What?”
“My name,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Leta.”
“Leta,” he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue like a song. He smiled softly. “I’m Theseus.”
She gave a slight nod, her expression unreadable. “That’s a long name.” “And yours is a short one,” he replied with a grin, as he cut the last of the ropes holding her captive. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, the storm forgotten, the sea calm around them.
“Don’t kill me,” her voice trembled. Theseus looked shocked and immediately shook his head, “I didn’t even think of that.” She looked so small compared to him, her hands barely half his own’s size. She looked so lost, so incredibly and utterly out of place on his deck. “I’m sorry for catching you, Leta,” he apologised in a tone gentler than anyone else ever heard.
She looked up at him in silence, her sharp eyes harbouring intelligence and challenge in them. They were hypnotic, luring him in, he leaned forward without noticing, Leta seemed guilty for it. “What are you?” He whispered, his hot breath touching her face.
“I won’t eat you, Theseus,” she simply whispered, her gaze empty and almost disconnected.
“Good to know then.” He immediately noticed her shiver and stripped out of his coat, draping it over her, his knees pressed against her tail. Leta hesitantly accepted the jacket, her need for warmth overthrowing her fear and uncertainty. Her tail twitching slightly, shifting to gain more of Theseus’ body warmth. The sailor’s hand reached out hesitantly, “Promise not to claw yourself into me?” He grinned as she let a small smile slip. He began tracing her scales, trying to warm the purple array. She shivered, Theseus wasn’t sure why exactly, the only thing he knew was, that he wanted to continue warming her.
What has he gotten himself into?