Those that traversed the seas in more ancient times were not merely braving the dangers of the unknown. The march of civilization had pushed back the boundaries of the mythical world, and those ships of trade, war and discovery were the sharp edge of that progress. But the two opposing worlds would sometimes collide, often with tragic results.
The forgotten island of Anthemoessa had witnessed so many wrecks that its rocky surface was tainted white from the bleached bones. The boulders around the island promised certain doom for any ship that ventured too close. That such an isolated and dangerous piece of land had seen so much death only made sense when one realized that the place was not uninhabited –at least, not by anything human.
On this late evening, the sterile shore of this misbegotten isle played host to two survivors. Fed with the wooden remains of their ship, the campfire offered at least a little warmth for the tired and bloody men who had witnessed such horror that day.
The first of these sailors was Arsenios, whose impressive build suggested an athlete worthy of the pankration. His clearly defined muscles still bore the sheen of sweat from his earlier exertions. In the maelstrom of foaming water, broken wood and equally broken bodies, he had achieved more than just survival. With a ferocity bordering on madness, he had located one of their marine enemies and wrestled it to the island.
The second man, Tryphon, was much slimmer than his companion, but had managed to emerge onto the shore through wit and good fortune. Having witnessed the struggle of his companion with the monster, he helped bind the creature and drag it further up onto land.
There was no doubt that when the Sirens were first spotted, they had all the appearance of comely women, of fair limbs and flowing hair. Even before their singing and playing had begun, the men of the ship were eager to steer closer, despite the danger. Their voices, raised together, promised every carnal delight, and the intimation of prophecy. Each man heard them in their own way, the pale lithe women exposing their naked flesh, and speaking to their innermost secrets.
Now, in the aftermath, their true nature was revealed. This one, whose mouth had been gagged with a length of rope, could no longer wield her spells. Her face, though still pretty, was sharp featured and bereft of the gentleness that was once promised. Hair that was first golden was proved black, and ran in unruly ringlets over her face and shoulders. Her arms and chest were still naked and pale, but bore a deceptive strength.
Most telling of all was what lay below the waist. Here, any pretense to human nature was betrayed by the sinuous, scaled length of a fish's tail.
Arsenios stood over the creature, who glared back with dark eyes. The way Tryphon had bound its wrists behind its back was complete, and she was far less mobile on land than she'd been in the sea. She was also exhausted from the struggle, and was long in catching her breath.
Certain that she was beyond the ability to cause them harm, he removed the gag to permit her the use of her voice.
"What name do you go by," the large sailor asked, holding her by the jaw to keep her face towards his.
It didn't answer, her silence speaking defiance. Arsenios had little patience for that game, and gripped the back of her hair tight, rattling her head.
"Leukosia," it replied finally, gritting her teeth.
Arsenios slackened his grip only slightly, offering it little comfort. That the thing had a name might have made a difference to some, but he couldn't for a moment allow it the mercy of a human identity.
"What do you suggest we do with her," Tryphon asked, watching the two closely. He had been amazed that such a fantastical being could actually exist in this world. A man of calm and rational thought, he would have scorned the often-told tales of monsters within the seas –not an opinion he could possibly hold anymore.
"Take her from behind," Arsenios instructed. "Hold her up, and keep a knife close to her throat."
Kneeling in the sandy soil, Tryphon lifted the Siren's torso from the ground and let her weight rest on his chest. Holding her around the waist, he kept his trusty old knife in his other hand. The feeling of her clammy but smooth skin was unsettling and strange.
"Isn't this a lovely sight," Arsenios leered, taking in her bare torso. Arms forced behind her, her breasts were displayed full and proud. Arsenios lay his large hands over the soft mounds of flesh, pressing them salaciously between his strong fingers.
"I haven't forgotten they way you had us in thrall," Arsenios rasped, pressing his face even closer. "The promises of fulfilled desires, the raptures of joined flesh. And what of the words, the hints of our future destiny, the details that only the most intimate in our lives would know?"
"The souls of men are not difficult to read," she replied. "And their desires are even easier to provoke. No wonder they should be mere chattel for our feed. You are beneath us in all ways."
This did not sit well with her tormentor, whose examination of her breasts became cruel. He squeezed her hard enough to make her yelp with pain, and left shocking red marks on her skin.
"We'll see who is beneath whom very shortly," he assured her, rising to stand. As she was forced to watch, he quickly stripped out of his wet and torn clothes. Even in the light of the fire, his erection was clearly visible, rising with the excitement of the moment.
To sully and violate this temptress creature would at least be some reward for what it had caused to his ship and crew. Arsenios felt no remorse as to his intentions as he ran his thick fingers over her strangely cool skin, arousing himself with the thoughts of what he was about to do. She would quail beneath the onslaught of his manhood, begging for release, until he planted his seed within her.
As his meandering caress became more involved, he was confronted with a pressing and obvious problem.
"Where is it," he demanded. "Where is the pouch of your womanhood?"
"What do you think I am," Leukosia replied tersely. "If you're looking for some way to procreate, than make what you will of this."
So saying, she made a tight grimace, and a sudden splurge of blackish material slid down the backside of her tail.
The act was clearly meant to send to message to the two sailors. She was not a mortal maiden whose virtue could be so easily sullied. She was of something other, something older, and entirely of the sea. Aresnios was not deterred in either his anger or ardor, however.
