June 22, 2025

The Sirens Call (Part 1) - "Depths"

The Sirens Call (Part 1) - "Depths"

Marine biologist Dr. Marina Torres arrives at the isolated Blackrock Island research station to investigate mysterious maritime disappearances—seven empty ships and twenty-three vanished crew members. She meets Kai Nereon, an enigmatic acoustics specialist whose unusual diving abilities and intimate knowledge of the ocean floor immediately captivate her.

When Kai shows her sonar images of impossible underwater structures at crushing depths, Marina insists on seeing them herself. That evening, a haunting song from the dark water nearly compels her to walk into the harbor until Kai intervenes. His warning about the supernatural danger lurking beneath the waves only deepens the mystery surrounding him.

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Welcome to the Sirens Call a special Romance Weekly and

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Ghost Scary Stories crossover event. This is Episode one depths.

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The ferry lurches over another swell and I grip the

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railing tighter, watching black Rock Island emerge from the morning

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mist like something from a maritime legend. Jagged cliffs rise

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from dark water, crowned with a lighthouse that hasn't operated

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in decades. The Tidal Research Station clings to the island's

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eastern shore, a cluster of modern buildings that look impossibly

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small against the vast Pacific. My name is Marina Torres,

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and I'm here to solve a mystery that's been haunting

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the coast Guard for six months. Seven ships found drifting

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empty in these waters. People vanished without a trace, no

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distress calls, no signs of struggle, no bodies recovered, just

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empty vessels floating like ghost ships in the currents around

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Black Rock Island. The official theory is equipment failure leading

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to mass drowning. Implausible, but the only explanation that doesn't

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invoke supernatural causes. I'm here as a marine biologist to

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investigate environmental factors that might explain the disappearances. Unusual currents,

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toxic algae, blooms, anything rational that could account for such

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specific maritime disasters. What I don't expect is him. Doctor

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Sarah Cohen, the station director, meets me at the dock

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with the kind of exhausted smile that suggests she's been

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dealing with bureaucrats and investigators for months. Doctor Torres, Welcome

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to Blackrock. I hope you're prepared for isolation. Supply boats

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only come twice a week, and the weather can cut

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us off for days at a time. She leads me

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up a winding path to the main facility, chattering about

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research protocols and safety procedures. The station is impressive, underwater

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observation domes, deep sea submersibles, equipment worth millions of dollars,

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all funded by a private foundation studying ocean acoustics and

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marine behavioral patterns. We've had to restructure since the incidents began,

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Sarah explains, as we tour the laboratories lost three researchers

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who couldn't handle the isolation after all the media attention.

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But we've gained a new team member who's been invaluable.

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She pauses at the observation deck, looking the harbor. Actually

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there he is now. I follow her gaze to the

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dock below, where a man in a wetsuit is emerging

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from the water. Even from a distance, there's something unusual

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about the way he moves, too fluid, too graceful, as

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if the ocean is reluctant to let him go. He

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pulls off his diving mask, revealing dark hair and features

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that seem to shift in the changing light. Kai Nerion,

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Sarah says, our new acoustic specialist. He arrived just before

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the disappearances started, which has made him popular with investigators.

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There's something in her tone that suggests she doesn't entirely

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trust the man we're watching. Popular, how every agency that's

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been here wants to interrogate him, Navy Intelligence, Coast Guard, investigated,

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even some FBI consultant who claimed expertise in unusual maritime phenomena.

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She shrugs. Kai's been patient with all of them, but

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his background is sparse. Excellent credentials, but his previous work

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was all in very remote locations, deep ocean research in

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places most people have never heard of. I watch Kai

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secure his diving equipment with economical movements, each gesture precise

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and purposeful. When he looks up toward the observation deck.

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His gaze finds mine instantly, as if he sensed my attention.

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Even at this distance, his eyes seem to hold depths

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that go beyond color or expression. He dives alone, Sarah continues, says,

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he works better without partners. The depths he goes to

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would require advanced mixed gas equipment for anyone else. Some

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How he manages on standard gear. Our safety officer hates it,

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but his results are undeniable. What kind of results Acoustic

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mapping of the ocean floor around the island. He's discovered

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formations down there that aren't on any chart, underwater canyons,

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cave systems, structures that almost look she hesitates, look like

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what artificial? But that's impossible, of course. The geology around

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Black Rock Island is ancient. Nothing human has ever been

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built at those depths. As we descend to the main

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laboratory level, I find myself thinking about Kai's upward glance,

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the way he seemed to see me rather than simply

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look in my direction. There was recognition in that moment,

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not of me specifically, but of something about me that

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resonated with him. The main lab is a marvel of

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modern marine science. Computer displays show real time ocean conditions,

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sonar readings, and acoustic patterns recorded from hydrophones positioned throughout

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the surrounding waters. Kai stands at the central console, now

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dressed in dark jeans and a white buttoned down shirt

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that somehow manages to look both casual and formal on

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his tall frame. Kai Sarah calls, I'd like you to

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meet doctor Marina Torres. She's here to investigate the environmental

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factors around the disappearances. He turns, and I get my

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first close look at the man who's been occupying my

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thoughts since I spotted him at the dock. He's handsome

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in a way that seems almost other worldly, sharp cheek bones,

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sea green eyes that shift between blue and gray depending

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on the light, and an indefinable quality that makes it

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hard to look away. His skin has the kind of

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tan that comes from sun and salt water, but underneath

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there's a pallor that suggests he spends as much time

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deep underwater as on the surface. Doctor Torres, he says,

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extending his hand. His voice carries a slight accent. I

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can't place something vaguely European, but with undertones that seem

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much older. I've read your work on deep ocean ecosystems,

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impressive research. When our hands touch, I feel a shock

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of something, not electricity exactly, but a sensation like cold

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water rushing over me, followed immediately by warmth. His grip

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is firm, his skin slightly cool, despite the ambient temperature

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of the lab. Thank you, I manage, trying to ignore

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the way my pulse has accelerated. Sarah Man, you've been

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mapping the ocean floor around the island. I'd love to

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see what you've discovered. Something flickers in his expression, surprise perhaps,

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or wariness. Of course, though I should warn you some

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of the formations I've found are unusual. They don't match

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standard geological models for this region. He gestures to a

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large display screen, and as his hands move over the controls,

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I notice they're slightly webbed between the fingers, just enough

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to be noticeable, but subtle enough that someone might dismiss

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it as a trick of lighting. The sonar image that

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appears on screen takes my breath away. The ocean floor

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around Black Rock Island isn't the relatively featureless continental shelf

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I expected, but a complex landscape of canyons, ridges, and

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what can only be described as architectural structures, geometric patterns

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too regular to be natural, formations, too ancient to be

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human construction. How deep, I ask, studying the impossible geography

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displayed before us. The deepest formations are at nearly three

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thousand feet, Kai replies, well beyond the reach of conventional diving,

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but accessible to our deep sea submersibles. I turn to

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look at him more closely. You've been down there, personally,

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A pause that lasts just a moment too long in

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the submersible. Yes, the acoustic equipment requires precise positioning that's

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difficult to achieve remotely. But I notice he doesn't quite

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answer my question. Sarah mentioned he dives alone to depths

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that should require specialized equipment. I file this observation away

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for later consideration. I'd like to see these formations myself,

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I say, tomorrow, if possible. Kai's eyes meet mine, and

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for a moment I feel that same rushing sensation as

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when we shook hands, as if I'm standing at the

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edge of very deep water feeling its pull. I'd be

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happy to take you down, though I should warn you

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the conditions around those formations can be unpredictable. Unpredictable how

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equipment malfunctions compass irregularities, the acoustic readings become distorted. He

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turns back to the display, his profile sharp against the

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blue glow of the sonar image. Some of my colleagues

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have reported feeling disoriented at those depths, hearing sounds that

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aren't picked up by our recording equipment. What kind of

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sounds music, he says, quietly, or something like it pattens

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in the water. That register has sound, but seem to

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come from everywhere and nowhere at once. A chill runs

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down my spine, though I can't say, why have you

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heard these sounds? Kai's hands still on the console controls

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for a long moment. He doesn't answer. When he finally speaks,

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his voice is careful, controlled. I have better tolerance for

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deep water conditions than most. But yes, there are acoustics

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down there that don't have conventional explanations. Sarah clears her throat,

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breaking the tension that has built between Kai and me.

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Why don't I show you to your quarters, Marina, you'll

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want to settle in before dinner. Kai, will you join

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us in the dining hall tonight? Perhaps he says, though

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his attention remains focused on the display screen. Have some

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night observations planned. The acoustic patterns change significantly after dark.

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As Sarah leads me away from the lab, I glance

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back to see Kai still studying the sonar images, his

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expression intense and somehow troubled. There's more to his interest

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in these underwater formations than scientific curiosity, I'm certain of it.

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My quarters are comfortable, but spartan, a small bedroom adjoining

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a compact office space with a window overlooking the harbor.

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As I unpack my equipment, I find myself thinking about

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Kai's evasive answers, his unusual physical characteristics, and the way

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he seemed to affect me on some level I can't

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quite identify. I'm here to investigate environmental factors in the disappearances,

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but I suspect the real mystery of Black Rock Island

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isn't environmental at all. It's personal. It's connected to the

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man with sea green eyes, who moves through water like

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he was born to it, who hears music in the

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depths where others hear only silence. That evening, I join

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Sarah and the small research team for dinner in the

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station's communal dining hall. The conversation is lively, despite our isolation,

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talk of research projects, supply deliveries, and the eternal struggle

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of maintaining sophisticated equipment in a corrosive marine environment. Kai

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doesn't appear, though I catch myself glancing toward the door

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more often than I should. He often skips dinner, explains

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doctor James Wright, a marine geologist who's been at the

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station for two years, claims he works better during certain

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tidal phases. Honestly, the man's schedule makes no sense to me.

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Sometimes he's up all night. Sometimes he disappears for days

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at a time. Disappears, I ask, not literally, Sarah clarifies quickly.

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He takes the smaller submersible for extended deep water observations,

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always files proper diving plans, always returns when scheduled. But

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he prefers to work alone, which makes some of us nervous,

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given what's happened in these waters. After dinner, restless and

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thinking about tomorrow's dive, I walk down to the harbor

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to check on the submersible we'll be using. The evening

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is calm, the water so still it reflects the stars

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like a dark mirror. The dock extends about fifty feet

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into the harbor, with research vessels moored along its length.

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As I reach the end of the dock, I hear

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it a sound unlike anything I've ever experienced. Not quite music,

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not quite singing, but something that seems to resonate in

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my bones, in my blood. It's coming from the water,

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from somewhere out in the darkness beyond the harbor. The melody,

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if it can be called that, is hauntingly beautiful. It

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speaks to something deep within me, awakening a longing I

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can't name. Without conscious decision, I find myself stepping closer

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to the edge of the dock, drawn by the ethereal sound.

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The music grows stronger, more compelling. Part of my mind

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recognizes that I should be alarmed, should question what I'm hearing,

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but those rational thoughts seem distant, unimportant compared to the

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erasistible pull of the song. I'm at the very edge

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of the dock, now, my toes hanging over the water.

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The song continues, promising things I can't quite understand but

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desperately want. All I need to do is step forward,

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let the dark water embrace me. Follow the music to

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its source. Marina. The voice cuts through the song like

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a blade, shattering its hold over me. I stumble backward, gasping,

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suddenly aware of how close I came to walking into

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the harbor. Kai stands behind me, his face pale in

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the starlight, his expression a mixture of relief and something

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that looks like guilt.

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What.

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I struggle to find words, my heart racing as the

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reality of what almost happens sinks in.

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What was that?

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You heard it? He says, not quite a question the song?

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You know what it was. Kai moves closer, his eyes

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scanning the dark water beyond the harbor. The music has stopped,

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leaving only the gentle lapping of waves against the dock.

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Something that shouldn't be here, something that's been getting stronger. Kai,

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what aren't you telling me? He meets my gaze, and

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in his eyes I see depths that go far beyond

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the physical, ancient knowledge, terrible sadness, and something that might

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be hope, more than you're ready to hear, I think,

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but Marina. He reaches out his fingers, barely touching my arm,

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but even that light contact sends a wave of warmth

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through me. Be careful around the water at night. What

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you heard tonight. It's connected to the disappearances. How do

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you know that? Because he said quietly, I know what

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made that sound, and it's not something any human should hear.

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Before I can ask more questions, he's walking away, his

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figure disappearing into the shadows between the research buildings. I'm

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left alone on the dock, my mind reeling with questions

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and the lingering echo of that impossible song. I return

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to my quarters, but sleep doesn't come easily. When I

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finally drift off, my dreams are filled with dark water

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and haunting melodies, with sea green eyes and voices that

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call from depths beyond human comprehension. And somewhere in those dreams,

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I hear Kai's voice, warning me again, be careful around

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the water at night. But even as I dream the warning,

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I know it's already too late. Whatever mystery surrounds Black

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Rock Island, whatever truth Kai is hiding, I'm already too

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deep to turn back. The water has already begun to

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call my name.

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A Siren's Call has been a production of Cala Rogus

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Shark Media Executive producers Mark Francis and John McDermott AI

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assistants may have been used in the series