[Courtesan 5 (Siren) POV] Year 2, Day 192

  Sleep didn't come.

  The siren lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Eyes open. Mind racing. Body exhausted but consciousness refusing to shut down.

  [The lake. Right there. So close. Real water. Open swimming. Freedom.]

  She'd tried every mental exercise. Every relaxation technique accumulated over seven hundred fifty years. Breathing patterns. Meditation. Even counting—absurd, childish, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Nothing worked.

  [How do I get there? Who can take me? Lady Kira? No—she'd want something in return. Too dangerous to owe her favors.]

  [Pebble? Maybe. But liability issues. She might refuse.]

  [The dwarf? Already said no for the same reason.]

  [Who then? Who?]

  Movement beside her.

  The harpy shifted. Wings unfolding slightly. Still asleep but restless. Then—without fully waking—she moved closer. Crawled into the siren's bed. Wrapped wings around her in a protective embrace.

  [She noticed. Saw I was worrying. Even asleep, trying to help.]

  The siren felt warmth. Gratitude. Affection for this four-hundred-year-old girl who still had the instincts to comfort friends.

  But the obsession didn't fade. The wings provided physical comfort. Mental reassurance. Emotional support.

  None of it mattered. The lake remained. The need remained. The desperate hunger for proper swimming after centuries of denial—it consumed everything.

  [I have to get there. Somehow. Today. Tomorrow. Soon. Very soon.]

  [I'll find a way. There has to be a way.]

  Hours passed. The harpy's breathing deepened. Sound asleep now. Peaceful. Trusting.

  The siren lay awake. Trapped in her own mind. The window showed darkness gradually lightening. Dawn approaching. The compound would wake soon. Work starting. Builders arriving. Another day beginning.

  Still she couldn't sleep. Watching dawn arrive with eyes that refused to close.

  When proper morning came—when the compound truly woke—the siren gave up pretending to rest. She extracted herself carefully from the harpy's wing-embrace. Dressed. Prepared for the day.

  [I need to do something. Walk. Move. Think. Find someone. Find answers.]

  She left the room quietly. The harpy still sleeping deeply. Wings splayed comfortably across both beds now. Face peaceful.

  [She always likes sleeping long. Let her rest.]

  Outside, work had already begun.

  The contrast startled her. She'd expected early morning quiet. Instead—construction activity. Builders setting up equipment. Dwarves hauling materials. Maids moving between buildings with purpose.

  [These people start early. Very early.]

  She walked aimlessly. No destination. Just movement. Just the need to not be trapped in that room with her thoughts.

  Then she saw them.

  A group ahead. Near one of the construction sites. Six dwarves gesturing animatedly. Large movements. Pointing at something. Voices carrying but not the words themselves.

  And facing them: Lady Kira. The head maid. The one with proxy authority who made her nervous.

  Even from this distance, the siren could read body language. Kira's posture was rigid. Expression tight. The particular tension of someone dealing with something frustrating. Exhausting.

  The dwarves kept pointing. Explaining something with increasing animation. Arguing maybe? Negotiating?

  Between them stood the bunny maid. The shameless one from yesterday. White fur with black markings. Large ears visible even from here.

  She was writing on papers. Showing things to both sides. Moving between the dwarves and Kira. Professional. Focused. Mediating.

  The discussion continued. Minutes passing. The siren watched, transfixed by the dynamic.

  Then—agreement. Something resolved. The bunny wrote more. Presented papers. Both sides reviewed. Nodded. Accepted.

  Kira looked relieved. Exhausted but relieved.

  Then—unexpected—she reached out. Pat the bunny's ears once. Gentle. Brief. A gesture of appreciation. Thanks for mediating successfully.

  The bunny beamed. Clearly pleased.

  Kira turned. Walked away quickly. Hurrying somewhere. Probably to handle the next crisis. The life of someone managing this entire operation.

  The siren watched her go.

  [Should I run after her? Ask about the lake? Get permission? Formal request?]

  [No. Bad idea. She looks stressed. Exhausted. Approaching her now—asking favors when she's obviously overwhelmed—wrong timing. She'll remember. She'll want payback later.]

  [Better to wait. Find another option. Don't create debt with someone who has authority over you.]

  She kept walking. Away from the construction site. Deeper into the compound. Wandering without direction.

  More builders. More maids. Everyone purposeful. Everyone busy preparing for the day.

  Then—sound ahead. Loud. Singing?

  The siren turned toward it. Curious. Following the noise.

  A group emerged from around a building. Dwarves—seven or eight—plus several maids mixed in. Walking together. Laughing. Singing. Stumbling slightly.

  [They're drunk. Or still drunk. Coming back from drinking all night?]

  The siren recognized Pebble immediately. The massive beargirl maid. Shield still strapped to her back. Expression happy. Relaxed.

  [They actually did it. Spent the entire night drinking. And now they're returning. At dawn.]

  The group approached. Saw her. Slowed.

  Pebble blinked. Focused with visible effort. "Oh! You're already up? Or are we just really late?" She laughed. Several members of her group joined in. Amused by their own situation.

  The siren didn't know what to say. The question felt absurd. So she asked the first thing that came to mind. "Is this... allowed? Going out and drinking all night?"

  Pebble's expression shifted. Memory surfacing through alcohol haze. "First time it happened, Master Ealdred wanted to whip everyone. Literally. He was furious. Proper discipline and all that." She grinned. "But Master Void protected us. Said we're allowed our own lives. Our own choices. As long as we complete our assigned tasks, what we do in free time is ours."

  She continued, voice carrying genuine emotion. "When I joined here—when I decided to become a maid—I thought that was it. End of freedom. End of fun. No more proper drinking. No more wild nights. Just walking the line twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. That's what everyone says about maids, right? Perfect behavior. Constant vigilance. No real life."

  One of the other maids added. "Ealdred's training was horror. No doubt. We all thought we'd die. But once we got our hundred points—once we proved ourselves—life became better than anything before."

  Pebble nodded emphatically. "Exactly! I was an adventurer before this. Had too many close calls. Too many near-deaths. Didn't want to die in some monster-infested hole in the middle of nowhere. So I took maid training. Expected strict rules. No freedom. Just safety and structure."

  Her eyes brightened. Genuine focus despite the alcohol. "But Master Void is the best. The absolute best. We've been talking—all us girls—about asking 22 to teach us proper elven servant norms. She's an elf. Clearly knows them. Master Void has done so much for us. Given us so much. We need to give back. Serve him better. Learn the proper forms. Show him we appreciate everything."

  The siren felt something shift in her chest.

  [Real dedication. Real loyalty. Not performance. Not professional courtesy. Actual devotion.]

  She'd seen loyal servants before. Centuries of observation. Most were performing. Playing roles. Doing jobs.

  This was different. Pebble's eyes when she talked about Master Void—there was genuine commitment there. The kind you couldn't fake. Couldn't manufacture.

  [She really means it. They all do. What kind of master inspires this? What does he do differently?]

  She'd heard stories about serving elven masters. Some said elves brainwashed servants. Used subtle magics. Underhanded methods. Others claimed elves genuinely cared but showed it strangely. Cultural differences making their affection hard to read.

  The siren wasn't sure which was true. But these maids—they seemed happy. Genuinely happy. Not coerced. Not manipulated.

  [Maybe this household really is different. Maybe the rules here operate differently than elsewhere.]

  While she processed this, the group started moving again. Past her. Heading deeper into the compound. Toward wherever they lived. Sleep finally calling after a night of celebration.

  Then—

  Idea struck. Desperation giving her courage.

  "Pebble! Wait!"

  The beargirl turned. Slightly unsteady but attentive.

  "Can you help me with something?"

  Pebble looked curious. Gestured for her to continue.

  "The Wonder. The lake outside the city. Can you bring me there?"

  Pebble's expression shifted. Understanding dawning. Then regret. "I'd like to. Really. But it's outside actual city limits. Lady Kira would literally kill me if I took you somewhere monsters roam. Even weak ones. I can't risk it."

  The siren nodded. Expected answer. Same as yesterday with the dwarf.

  [City limits they dare. Outside the walls is too dangerous. Liability again. Makes sense.]

  "Thank you anyway," she said. Polite. Professional. Hiding disappointment.

  But then—another idea. Last desperate attempt.

  "If someone else could get us there—someone with permission—would that work?"

  Pebble thought about it. Processing through alcohol and exhaustion. "If Lady Kira or Master Void gave explicit permission, I could take you with some girls. It's not that dangerous. Just weak monsters in the area. But..." She paused. Hesitated. "Null can."

  The siren's attention focused. "Null? The maid is allowed?"

  Something changed in Pebble's expression. Subtle. Hard to read. Almost like—fear? Uncomfortable? The way someone looks when discussing something they don't want to discuss.

  [She's afraid of Null? Or uncomfortable talking about her? But why? Yesterday she stated Null's strength like simple fact. What changed?]

  Maybe it was the alcohol. Lowering barriers. Making emotions more visible.

  "Yes," Pebble said finally. "She can. But you need to talk to her yourself. Directly."

  Then—without explanation—all the maids left. Quickly. Almost hurriedly. Like none of them wanted to continue this conversation. Like talking about Null made them uncomfortable. Nervous.

  The siren watched them go. Confused.

  [What was that? Why the sudden departure? Why does mentioning Null create that reaction?]

  But beneath the confusion—hope.

  [Null can take me. She has permission. Authority. Power. Whatever makes people nervous also makes her capable.]

  [Talking to Null. That's better than asking Kira. Much better.]

  She'd met Null briefly. Lessons about Master Void. About intimacy. The courtesan training they'd requested. Null had been friendly. Approachable. Polite. Genuinely interested in learning.

  [Professional. Easy to talk to. This should work. This could actually work.]

  Better than Kira certainly. No proxy authority. No uncomfortable power dynamic. Just another servant. Maybe higher-ranking, maybe more capable, but still—peer-level conversation. Request between colleagues.

  [If Null doesn't have permission to leave the city, she'll just say so. Like Pebble did. No harm in asking. No debt created. Just a simple question.]

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Hope bloomed. Real hope.

  [This could work. This might actually work.]

  [Just need to find Null. Ask. Make the request. Get to the lake.]

  [Today. Maybe even today.]

  The siren stood there. Dawn fully arrived now. Compound active. Work progressing.

  She had a plan. A target. A way forward.

  [Find Null. Ask about the lake. Get permission. Swim.]

  [Just need to find her first.]

  The next few hours passed in frustration.

  The siren walked the compound. Systematically. Trying to look casual. Professional. Not desperate. Not obsessed.

  [Where does Null work? What does she do normally? I've only seen her twice. Lessons and once in the city. Where else?]

  She checked the common areas. The training grounds. Near the main house. The construction sites. Everywhere.

  No Null.

  [How do you find one specific maid in a compound this large? With this many people? Without asking directly and looking desperate?]

  She kept walking. Tenth circuit? Twentieth? She'd lost count.

  Then—

  "Excuse me. Are you alright?"

  The siren turned. Bunny maid. The shameless one. White fur with black markings. Large ears folded back slightly in concern.

  "I've seen you walking in circles for hours. Is something wrong?"

  The siren froze. She'd been that obvious? That noticeable?

  The bunny waited. Patient. Genuinely concerned.

  Desperation overrode caution. "I'm looking for Null."

  The bunny's expression cleared. Understanding. "Oh! I can help. Please, follow me."

  She led the way. Toward the maid housing. Large building. Multiple stories. Professional. Well-maintained.

  At the entrance, the bunny stopped. "Please wait here. I'll get her."

  She disappeared inside.

  The siren sat on a nearby bench. Heart pounding. Anxiety and hope mixing uncomfortably.

  [This is it. This is the chance. Just ask politely. Explain the request. Be professional. Don't look desperate.]

  [She'll either say yes or no. Simple. Clean. No complications.]

  Minutes passed.

  Then the door opened. Null emerged. Young-looking. Innocent appearance. The same maid who'd been so interested in learning about intimacy.

  "You were looking for me?"

  "Yes." The siren stood. Tried to sound calm. Professional. "I heard you might be able to help. I'd like to visit the Wonder. The lake near the city."

  "The lake?" Null tilted her head slightly. "Why? There's nothing particularly interesting there."

  The siren hesitated. How much to explain? Why admit the obsession?

  [Just be honest. Simple truth.]

  "I'd like to swim there."

  Null's expression changed. Understanding. Like a puzzle piece clicking into place. "Oh. You want to swim." She nodded. Simple. Matter-of-fact. "We can do that. I'll come pick you up in a few hours. Put your things ready. Feel free to bring your friend too."

  The siren's brain stuttered. [That's it? Just... yes? No questions? No complications? No requirements?]

  "Really?" The word came out uncertain. Disbelieving.

  "Yes." Null looked slightly confused by the question. Like it was obvious. "A few hours. Be ready."

  Then she turned and went back inside.

  The siren stood there. Stunned.

  [It worked. It actually worked. That easily. That simply.]

  [A few hours. Put things ready. Going to the lake. Going swimming.]

  [Real swimming. Open water. Freedom.]

  She ran back to her room.

  The harpy was awake. Making morning tea. Using the small heating element provided in their room. Professional courtesy from the household.

  She looked up. Saw the siren's expression. "What happened to you?"

  "The lake." The words tumbled out. Excitement. Joy. Relief. "The one we saw yesterday. I can go. Today. Null is organizing it. She's coming to pick us up in a few hours."

  The harpy set down her teacup. "The lake? You asked about the lake?"

  "Yes! I can swim there! Real swimming! Open water! And she just said yes! Just like that! No complications! No requirements!"

  The harpy smiled. Genuinely happy for her friend. "That's wonderful. I'm glad you found someone to help."

  They prepared together. The siren picking out appropriate clothing. Simple. Practical. Nothing valuable.

  [Don't need much. Just myself. The water. Freedom.]

  Time crawled. Every minute felt like hours. Every hour like days.

  The siren paced. Sat. Paced again. Checked her things. Rechecked. Arranged. Rearranged.

  The harpy watched with amused tolerance. "You're going to wear a hole in the floor."

  "I can't help it. I'm—" She paused. Tried to find words. "I haven't had proper open water since coming to the Republic. Centuries ago. This is—it's important."

  The harpy understood. She always did. "I know. I'm happy for you."

  Then—knock on the door.

  The siren froze. Stared.

  Another knock. Polite. Patient.

  She opened it.

  Null stood there. And behind her—two fox girls. Identical. Perfect twins. Maids in matching uniforms. Expressions bright. Excited.

  The siren had seen them before. Once or twice in the distance. Never close enough to really observe.

  [Twins. Actual twins. Identical. Even their expressions match.]

  Null spoke. Professional. Direct. "Let's go. Our transport is waiting."

  The fox twins bounced slightly. Perfect synchronization. "Fish lady can go swimming!" Their voices overlapped. Harmonized. Joy radiating from both simultaneously. "Happy! So happy!"

  The siren didn't know what to think about that. The enthusiasm seemed genuine. Childish. Innocent.

  [They're excited. Actually excited. Like this is fun for them too. What strange maids these are.]

  "Let's go," Null repeated.

  They followed. The siren. The harpy. Null leading. The twins bringing up the rear. Still bouncing. Still emanating happiness.

  Outside, near the compound entrance, waited—

  [A lizard. A massive lizard. With seats on its back. And a maid holding the reins.]

  The wolfgirl maid from yesterday. The one with excellent hearing. Professional. Capable-looking.

  Null gestured toward the creature. "Our ride. Neither I nor the Twins know how to handle riding lizards properly. So I asked for help." She indicated the wolfgirl. "The area around the lake isn't full jungle, but it's rough terrain. You two will find moving difficult. This lizard will get you there safe and comfortable."

  The siren looked at the creature more carefully. Large. Well-trained. The seats securely mounted. Ropes and safety harnesses visible.

  Professional setup. Real equipment. This wasn't improvised. This was organized transport.

  Null moved to help them mount. Lifting them easily. Placing them gently in the seats. The twins simply jumped. Three meters straight up. Landed perfectly on the lizard's back. No effort. No preparation.

  The wolfgirl checked the ropes. The safety harnesses. Making sure everything was secure. "Don't want anyone falling off," she explained. Professional. Thorough.

  The siren noticed Null and the twins ignored all safety measures. No ropes. No harnesses. Just sitting casually. Confidently.

  [Different rules for different people. Or they're just that capable. Probably both.]

  Then they moved.

  The lizard walked. Smooth gait. Comfortable. Through the compound gates. Into Borderwatch proper. Through the city streets. People moved aside. Making way. The sight apparently common enough not to cause alarm.

  Beyond the city walls. Into the forest.

  The lizard's head had two long appendages. Flexible. Snake-like. They moved forward. Cutting vegetation. Clearing path. Like biological machetes. Efficient. Natural adaptation.

  The forest was beautiful.

  The siren hadn't been in proper wilderness since childhood. Centuries ago. Different continent. Different life. Her years in the Republic had been urban. Client estates. Cities. Controlled environments.

  This was wild. Real. Trees meters away. Monster sounds in the distance. The smell of growing things. Living things. Natural chaos.

  [It's... actually interesting. I'd forgotten what wilderness feels like.]

  They arrived at the lake quickly. Faster than expected. The lizard efficient. The path relatively clear.

  But when they stopped—

  Everyone was looking at the water. Null. The wolfgirl. Expressions serious. Focused.

  The twins' faces had lost their playful joy. They looked—calculating? Assessing?

  "Fish lady." The twins spoke together. Perfect unison. Their childish enthusiasm gone. Replaced with something darker. "It's full of monsters."

  The siren looked.

  At first—nothing. Just water. Blue. Clear. Beautiful.

  Then she saw them. Shadows. Moving beneath the surface. Large shapes. Many of them. Dozens maybe. Difficult to count.

  [Monsters. Aquatic monsters. The lake is full of them. The locals leave them alone. Harmless as long as you don't enter the water.]

  Her throat tightened. Eyes burned. Tears threatening.

  [I can't swim here. I can't. The monsters. The danger. It's not safe. It's not possible.]

  [They brought me here. Organized everything. And I still can't swim. Still can't have this one thing. This one simple thing.]

  The tears came. She couldn't stop them. Centuries of control. Of professionalism. All breaking down over one denied desire.

  Null spoke. Quiet. "Nora. You know the Tree of Swords?"

  The wolfgirl nodded. [Nora. That's her name. Should remember it. Still don't know what most maids here are called.]

  "Let's visit it."

  Then Null said one more word. Casual. Simple.

  "Play?"

  The twins exploded with joy. Both of them. Jumping off the lizard. Landing hard. Actually shaking with excitement. "Play! Yes! Play!"

  The lizard moved. Away from the lake. Deeper into the forest. The siren barely noticed. Too depressed. Too defeated. Too consumed by loss.

  [So close. Right there in front of me. And still impossible. Can't swim. Can't be free. After all that hope. All that planning. For nothing.]

  Time passed. She didn't track it. Didn't care. Just sat. Miserable. Trapped in her own failure.

  Then they arrived somewhere. The lizard stopped.

  The siren looked up. Saw—

  A tree. Large. Ancient-looking. But strange. Very strange.

  Swords. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Stabbed into the trunk. Driven through the bark. Creating a grotesque sculpture. Metal everywhere. Some swords fresh. Others old. Rusted. Barely recognizable as weapons.

  Knives too. Various blades. All sizes. All conditions. A museum of violence. A monument to death.

  "Locals call it the Tree of Remembrance," Null said. Voice quiet. Respectful. "In these borderlands, many people die. Often without bodies. Without graves. So near every major population center, there's a tree like this. When someone dies, those left behind put their sword into it. Or knife. Or whatever weapon they carried. A memorial. A marker."

  She gestured at the rust. The decay. "These trees make metal rust faster. Something magical. Something unnatural. Even adamantium swords become rust eventually. Everything breaks down. Everything is forgotten. This tree shows—everyone ends up forgotten. No matter how strong. How important. How memorable. Time erases everything."

  The siren stared. At the monument to death. To loss. To inevitable erasure.

  [This is Borderwatch's forty-year history. All the deaths. All the lost people. Remembered here. Soon to be forgotten entirely as the rust takes everything.]

  She didn't know why Null brought them here. What the point was. Local custom? Interesting landmark? Closest notable location?

  Or was there meaning? Message?

  She was too depressed to figure it out.

  Silence held. No one knew what to say. The appropriate response unclear.

  Finally, Null pointed back toward the lizard. "Let's return."

  They did. Retracing their path. Back toward the lake.

  When they arrived—the twins were waiting. Both standing at the shore. Smiling. That same bright, childish joy from before.

  "Fish lady can swim!" Perfect unison. Singing it almost. "Safe-safe! All safe now!"

  The siren looked at them. Confused. [What are they talking about? The monsters. The danger. Nothing changed—]

  Then she looked at the lake.

  Really looked.

  No shadows. No movement. No monsters visible anywhere.

  [They're gone. The aquatic monsters. All of them. In the—hour? However long we were away—they're all gone. Cleared out. Removed.]

  She turned to the twins. Understanding dawning. "You... you cleared the monsters?"

  Both twins jumped. Literally. Three meters up. Landing. Bouncing. Pure excitement. "Yes-yes! Made them go away! All gone! Fish lady can swim now! Safe! Safe!"

  Then—without warning—both twins jumped into the lake. Fully dressed. Maid uniforms and all. Splashed. Dove under. Came back up.

  "See! Safe!" They climbed out. Jumped out really. Landing on shore. Their dresses—completely dry. Not a drop of water on them. Like they'd never been wet at all.

  The siren's brain stopped working. [How. How is that possible. They went underwater. Fully submerged. And they're dry. Completely dry. What kind of magic—]

  Null spoke. Simple. Matter-of-fact. "It's safe. Go swim."

  The siren looked at the water. The clear, empty water. The lake with no monsters. With no danger. With nothing preventing her.

  [Five hundred years. And now—right now—right here—]

  She jumped.

  Transformed mid-air. Human form to siren form. Full transformation. Scales emerging. Gills opening. Fins extending. Her true self. Her real body.

  Hit the water.

  Cold.

  So cold.

  Not normal cold. Not refreshing cold. Magical cold. Unnatural cold. [They'd mentioned ice. She hadn't listened. Didn't care. Only wanted the water.] The kind that goes beyond temperature. Beyond physical sensation. Magic-infused ice reaction at the lake's heart. Permeating everything. Freezing everything.

  [Too cold. Too cold. Way too cold. This isn't—I can't—]

  Arctic seas were comfortable. Easy. Natural habitat. Sirens thrived in frozen oceans.

  This was different. This was magic. This was ice given purpose. Given malevolence.

  [I'm freezing. Literally freezing. My body's shutting down. Cold damage. Real damage. Life-threatening—]

  [Out. Need to get out. Now. NOW.]

  Survival instinct overrode everything. She kicked. Hard. Launching herself out of the water. Desperation giving her strength. Body barely responding but moving. Airborne. Escaping the deadly cold.

  Then she heard Null's voice. "Twins! Catch her!"

  Impact. Soft. Gentle. Both twins. Mid-air. Catching her before she could fall back into the water or hit the shore. Supporting her. Holding her carefully.

  Blanket wrapped around. Soft. Warm. But not enough. Not nearly enough.

  She couldn't stop shaking. Couldn't control her body. Hypothermia setting in. Real. Deadly.

  Item box opening. Null pulling something out. Metal contraption. Magical heating element. Portable oven?

  Working quickly. Efficiently. Preparing something.

  Cup pressed to the siren's lips. Hot liquid. Chocolate. Alcohol. Something else. Magic maybe. Warmth flooding through. Actual warmth. Internal heat.

  "Drink," Null said. Voice calm. Professional. No panic. Just focus.

  The siren drank. Couldn't taste it. Couldn't process flavor. Just warmth. Blessed warmth.

  Another cup. Then another. The twins holding her. Hugging her from both sides. Their body heat helping. Their presence grounding.

  Time passed. Unknown amount. Could have been minutes. Hours. She didn't know.

  Gradually—sensation returned. Control returned. Awareness returned.

  She was alive. Still alive. Barely.

  Null looked—apologetic. Genuinely sorry. "I tried swimming there once. Forgot this kind of cold can be life-threatening. I'm sorry."

  The twins spoke together. Guilty. Sad. "Sorry... When we made monsters go away... didn't feel it. Didn't know. Sorry..."

  The siren's mind finally processed that. [They tried swimming here. Both Null and the twins. And didn't notice. Didn't feel the cold at all. What kind of monsters are these people—]

  The thought was too much. Combined with the cold. The shock. The near-death experience.

  Consciousness failed. Everything went black.

  When awareness returned—

  Her room. Her bed. Familiar ceiling. Safe environment.

  The harpy holding her hand. Tear-streaked face. Obviously been crying hard. Still crying.

  Other presence. The siren turned her head. Difficult. Body not responding properly.

  Null. The twins. Both looking guilty. Subdued.

  And—

  An elf. Female. Ancient-looking despite the body. Maid dress. But something about her felt different. Powerful. Those black eyes too dark. Too empty.

  [22. The insane mage. The one everyone talks about.]

  Those black eyes swept across all three of them. Null and both twins. Voice sharp. Angry. "You two IDIOTS! You almost killed that girl, you know it?"

  All three flinched. Null looking guilty. The twins both simultaneously shrinking back. Like struck.

  22 continued. Actually getting louder. Voice carrying real anger. "If the Divine One hadn't called me—if I hadn't been available—she would have frozen to death within hours! That's how much ice magic stored into her body for those few seconds in the water! There's a reason locals don't swim there! It kills everyone!"

  The last words came out as actual screaming. Genuine fury.

  The siren managed to speak. Difficulty. Voice weak. "Thank you. For saving me."

  22 turned. Expression softening slightly. "No need. I did my duty. That's all."

  She paused. Then added—tone serious. Warning. "But you should be more careful in the future. Asking help from these two IDIOTS." The emphasis was deliberate. Pointed.

  22 looked back at Null and the twins. Making sure they all heard. Making sure they all understood.

  Then back to the siren. "Don't worry. Week of bedrest. I'll come once daily to cast warming magic into your body. You should be back to normal."

  The siren felt panic. New fear. Different fear. "Will I—am I—"

  "You lost something like fifty to one hundred years worth of elixir reserves stored in your body." 22's tone was clinical. Factual. "That's what kept you alive. Your body burned through accumulated life extension to survive the cold. You've taken very good care of yourself to have that kind of reserve at your age."

  [Fifty to one hundred years. Gone. Burned. Used up. I'm going to die. Age degradation. No reserves. I'm going to—]

  22 continued before panic could fully set in. "Don't worry. I already replaced it. With better quality elixirs actually. Your reserves should be higher now than before. Maybe even exceed what you had."

  The harpy spoke. Voice shaky. Grateful. "Yes. When you were unconscious—she gave you some very fancy looking elixir. I've never seen anything like it. Beautiful. Clearly very expensive."

  22 nodded. "Don't take any other elixirs for the next two to three years. Let this one fixate properly into your body. Integrate completely. Then you can resume normal supplementation."

  Relief flooded through. [I'm alive. I'll survive. The reserves are replaced. Better than before even. I'm not dying. Not aging. Not degrading.]

  "Thank you," the siren said again. Meaning it completely. "Thank you so much."

  22 just shrugged. "Duty. That's all. Now rest. Sleep. Recover. I'll return tomorrow."

  She left. Null and the twins following. All looking subdued. Guilty. Like children who'd been properly scolded.

  The door closed.

  The harpy squeezed her hand. "You scared me. You scared me so much."

  "I'm sorry." The siren meant it. "I'm so sorry."

  "Promise me," the harpy said. Voice intense. Desperate. "Promise me you'll never go near that lake again. Never. Ever."

  "I promise." Absolute certainty. Complete conviction. "I promise. That lake is death. I'll never go back."

  The harpy nodded. Relaxed slightly. "Good. Because I can't lose you. You're all I have. You understand? You're all I have."

  "I know." The siren squeezed back. Weak but genuine. "I know. I'm sorry. I won't do something that stupid again."

  "Good."

  They sat there. Holding hands. The siren alive. The harpy grateful. Both understanding how close it had been.

  [The Lake of Death. That's what it is. Beautiful. Tempting. And absolutely fatal. One of those things that looks like dreams but delivers nightmares.]

  [Never again. Never.]

  [I learned my lesson. The hard way. The near-fatal way. But learned.]

  [No more lake obsession. No more desperate swimming desires. No more risking everything for one moment of freedom.]

  [Life. Survival. That's what matters. Not dreams. Not desires. Not centuries-old hungers.]

  [Just life. Just staying alive. Just being here with people who care.]

  [That's enough. That has to be enough.]

  [Because the alternative—the lake—that's death. Pure and simple.]

  [Never again.]

  The harpy stayed. Holding her hand. Keeping watch. Refusing to leave.

  The siren closed her eyes. Exhausted. Traumatized. Alive.

  [Never again.]

  Sleep finally came. Real sleep. Safe sleep. Surrounded by care. Protected. Valued.

  [The Lake of Death taught its lesson well.]

  [Never. Again.]

  Consider everything Null and the Twins did right: used normal transport instead of something terrifying, took everyone away so they wouldn't have to witness the gross display of ecosystem destruction, found a nearby landmark to visit while the twins worked, and even tested the water themselves to prove it was safe. They were being thoughtful. Considerate. Careful by their standards.

  And they still nearly killed her. Because none of them understood the real danger—that what feels like absolutely nothing to a monster can be instantly lethal to a mortal. Good intentions don't bridge that gap.

  Keep this incident in mind. When they commit acts that mortals call genocidal—the kind that Cardinal Vescari felt, their alien logic works exactly the same way. Whether trying to help or just existing, they fundamentally don't process harm and death like mortals do. Good intentions or casual indifference—the catastrophic results look identical from the mortal perspective.

  Spoiler for the worried: The siren will get her proper swim one day. In water that won't try to kill her. Author's promise. ??