Day 6 - The Siren.

(Day 1 - http://pathofexile.com/forum/view-thread/6071)

(Day 2 - http://pathofexile.com/forum/view-thread/6116)

(Day 3 - http://pathofexile.com/forum/view-thread/6205)

(Day 4 - http://pathofexile.com/forum/view-thread/6235)

(Day 5 - http://pathofexile.com/forum/view-thread/6428)

Solomon insisted that he could not hear it, but I was certain it was there. Somewhere, a voice was singing. I was no longer so convinced it was my own addled self imagining these things, the way it played its tones pulled at strings attached to the softest parts of my heart. They were melodies that I could easily convince myself that I recalled from my own memories, but each time I drew forth a hum or whistle from my sore, dry throat to meet the hymn, I was left without a tune to carry, and in the stillness, all was silent once again.

It would start once more when my guard was down; when once again I had convinced myself that it was not there it would tease me, permeating my thoughts and wrenching up frustration at my battered senses.

It had been nearly an hour since my descent into the deeper parts of these caves, the passage downwards a harrowing journey across sharp, steep rocks. A narrow passageway and claustrophobia were secondary threats compared to slipping and falling to my death. By some miracle I had managed my way down the treacherous slope, and then stopped to wait for Solomon to make the decent, ducking out of the way as he came tumbling down. With his frighteningly hard shell, he had recoiled into it defensively and pitched himself from the higher ground, bounced an innumerable amount of times, and then after a few moments stunned and dizzy, pulled himself from the protective covering and clicked his pincers up at me as though to playfully mock my slow progress. This evoked a smile; without his insufferable cheerfulness, I fear I would have slipped into desperation or madness long ago.

The creatures down here watch me suspiciously, traveling with one of their own. It is a reprieve that I did not think them capable of, but their watchful eyes and hissing sounds do not strike against me. It is only the music now that I feel I am searching for, to prove to myself that it exists, and they are waiting with apprehension to see if I will deliver the proof. That maybe I will find a man in the arms of death singing some ancient song.

Rounding another of many naturally formed walls, I was struck by a sense of urgency and dread. Something was terribly wrong, the song was there. It was loud and getting louder. Behind me there were scraping, hissing sounds. Ahead, as though the dark corridors had spent all of this time searching in my mind for something to strike me down with, came the Siren. I had to look upwards as it reared before me, to take in the entire form of the monstrosity. It bore tentacles like the squid creatures I had so easily been dispatching, but they stretched out below a large torso, covered in slick and shining scales. Narrow, slitted eyes stared down at me from a face that was more rows of teeth, gnashing and howling, than it was anything else. The beautiful song had melted away into a horrifying shriek, which paralyzed me briefly, and forced my hands to my head in an attempt to silence the deafening cry.

The moment my gaze turned away I felt sick, and a terrified Solomon stood at my back shaking and holding up his small claws into the air as though to frighten away anything that might attack my exposed back. His bravery was remarkable. The siren thrust its webbed arms at me, two large, fin-like appendages that with them brought out a torrent of thick, gloppy slime. It burned my skin where it touched me, acidic, foul, and wretched.

Had I not thus far learned quite well how to keep my food down, I would have lost it then. My practice with the foul and malodorous creatures in Wraeclast had steeled me, however, and I reacted without thinking, darting around a nearby corner and coughing loudly as another blast of the slime smashed against the cavern wall where I had been a moment before. Solomon, displeased, turned quickly and charged the massive beast, giving my previously assaulted ears the chance to catch the sound of a large breath being taken.

This time, Solomon suffered the spray of that horrible bile, the siren spitting it out at the crab in confusion, and I knew this was my chance. I broke from cover, charging with every ounce of my strength towards the siren, weapon hot and fearsome in my hand, illuminating the darkness with its hellish light. The red glow carved out a beautiful, perfect sweep through the air, cleanly dividing the huge creature down its middle in a gory show of stench, organs, and blood.

My body, addicted to the rush of endorphins every time I invoked the magic of the red stone, remained alive and tingling despite my fatigue. Were it not for the heavy breathing and weakness of my legs when the glowing stopped I might not have known such a toll had been taken, but now it did not matter. Behind me I could hear and almost see the legions of evil things still polluting these caves, but behind the corpse of the Siren now dispatched in earnest, there was light pouring in.

I called to Solomon, who was busy pinching the lifeless tentacles of the fallen combatant, making menacing threats to it and any who might like to follow in its wake.

We were not accosted the rest of the short walk out of the Tidal Caverns, and into the fresh air outside. Daylight stung and nipped at the eyes, but I fell on my back, the ground warm from sun, and listened to the Stone Crab that had defended me when hope was lost snap his claws triumphantly. We were free. We were alive.

-- Senophostria.

I am falling in love with Solomon <3

you r a very good writer. ty for sharing!

Very nice!

very interesting piece.

Go for it Crabby

Ryukaki <<< you AWESOME writer ;o good job

:) very enjoyable!