uncanny ability to solve the town’s most perplexing mysteries. He was often seen wandering the streets, his long black trench coat trailing behind him like a shadow. Zerutod turned, his pale lavender eyes scanning the crowd. He was a young man, his messy silver hair catching the sunlight, giving him an ethereal quality. Rhea felt a flicker of hope as he approached, his expression softening when he noticed her distress.
“Rhea, isn’t it?” he said, his voice soft yet firm. “What troubles you?”
“My husband,” she gasped, clutching her chest. “He’s fallen into a deep sleep, along with the other men. They’re all dreaming the same thing—something about wending through woods and cricket legs. I don’t know what it means!”
Zerutod’s brow furrowed as he listened. “And you believe this is connected to the sea?”
He paused, weighing her words. “I will investigate, but you must understand the dangers involved. Sirens are not to be trifled with.”
“Anything! I’ll do anything to save him!” Rhea pleaded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Very well,” he replied, his tone shifting to one of resolve. “I’ll start by speaking to the families affected. Stay strong, Rhea.”
As Zerutod moved away, Rhea felt a flicker of hope. She watched him disappear into the maze of streets, his figure swallowed by the shadows.
Zerutod’s investigation began at the docks, where the salty air mingled with the scent of fish. He approached a group of fishermen, their faces lined with worry.
“Excuse me,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m looking for information about the men who’ve fallen asleep. I’ve heard whispers of a song.”
One of the fishermen, a burly man with a weathered face, scoffed. “A song? Do you think that’s what did this? It’s madness!”
“Madness or not, it’s the only lead I have,” Zerutod replied, his tone unyielding. “What did you hear?”
The man hesitated, glancing at his companions. “It was beautiful, I’ll give it that. Like nothing I’ve ever heard. But it felt… wrong. Like it was pulling at something deep inside me.”
“Did you see anything unusual?” Zerutod pressed, his mind racing.
“Just the sea, calm as ever. But the night it happened, the water shimmered like it was alive,” another fisherman chimed in, his voice low. “We thought it was just the moonlight.”
Zerutod nodded, piecing together the fragments of their stories. “Thank you. I’ll need to speak to more families.”
As he walked away, he could feel the weight of their fear pressing down on him. The sea held secrets, and he was determined to uncover them.
Hours passed as Zerutod moved from house to house, gathering tales of the men’s last moments before sleep claimed them. Each story echoed the same theme: a song, a pull toward the water.
“Cricket legs,” he muttered to himself, the phrase rolling off his tongue. “What does it mean?”
He paused at the edge of the docks, the sun dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. The sea stretched out before him, calm yet foreboding.
“Zerutod!” a voice called, breaking his reverie. It was Rhea, her face pale but determined. “Did you find anything?”
“Clues point toward the sea,” he replied, his voice steady. “A Siren may be involved. We must prepare for what lies ahead.”
Rhea’s eyes widened. “A Siren? You mean…?”
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. “I believe in you.”
Zerutod nodded, feeling the weight of her trust. “Then let’s uncover the truth before more men fall into the depths of sleep.”
With that, they turned toward the sea, the shadows of the night creeping in, and the haunting melody of the Siren’s song lingering just beyond the horizon.
[761/2000]
Last edited by Zerutod on Sat Aug 31, 2024 12:06 pm; edited 3 times in total