Chapter Text
In a remote corner of the isle of Zaun, stood a lone lighthouse.
An old, withering monument guiding ships towards one of its biggest ports known as the Lanes. The water in those parts was muddled with pollution from the city factories, jagged rocks scattered about the bay that could be extremely difficult to navigate safely. One said if you fell into the putrid waters, the souls of the damned who’d fallen before you would drag you into depths, never to be seen again.
It was quite an isolated location, only small dirt road through a thick forest leading to the lighthouse, miles and miles away from the nearest village. Many a keeper was said to have gone mad or disappeared, trying to man it. There were many tales across the world about the kind of madness that could spring about staying in such lonely places, but this one, there were many whispers about this one being straight up cursed.
There were rumors, about something lurking in the waters around it, a specter from the depths that supposedly tormented anyone who’d dared to attempt to stay inside the old lighthouse for longer periods of time. A ghost, a siren, nobody knew for sure what it was. All that people knew were vague descriptions from survivors, the bodies that were found from within the depths of the tower or sometimes at the small crescent patch of sand beneath.
Bodies gone pale, all of their blood sucked out, sometimes with deep slashes across them aa if something had clawed on the poor bastards. The survivors who’d stagger back to civilization via the dirt road through the forest would ramble about eyes in the dark, oil slick hair draped over a pale face, water filling their lungs as if by command. No one knew for sure what the hell it was that was haunting the lighthouse, and despite countless searches and even exorcisms provided by holy men and women, the entity seemed to remain.
Regardless, someone had to be there to attend the light, otherwise the important trade route would be cut off; without the guiding light, ships could not navigate through the dangerous bay waters, especially not during storms.
Being an old building, it rattled and creaked during those, the sounds making the rare visitors fear it’d straight up collapse someday. If there was some credit to be given to the old tower, it stood firm despite everything, having been built to last. The previous keeper had been killed by the entity, young man named Marcus; not a drop of blood left in his body as it’d floated back up to the shore, found by bunch of kids downstream. A sight likely to traumatize even grown men, but also familiar in Zaun. Death was something you got used to in such harsh place from early on.
The lighthouse had stood empty for a few weeks, meaning the Lanes port had to be closed during stormy weather, as without the light the ships could not navigate in safely. Finding somebody willing to take the job was always tricky, usually those sent there were either daredevils or desperate. Even the most hardened seafarer men and women tended to avoid this place, most not having a death wish.
This time though, the person appearing before the old tower was someone very different. Not a reckless young man with too much to prove, or a desperate father taking in a dangerous job for some coin his family needed. As eyes peer from the waves in the darkness of the night towards the newest unfortunate soul to try and man the tower, the lighthouse 'curse’ would soon come to learn how it felt, turning from predator to prey.
The isle of Zaun had no wolves.
But it had a man.
Silco watches the new keeper from the shadows of the jagged stones, circling around the lighthouse to the storage building next to it, likely to check on whatever supplies were left or needed replacing.
Sensing fresh prey enter his territory was always a delight, he’d grown bored of the previous keeper quite quickly. The younger man had tried to act like he wasn’t easily unnerved, but it had taken Silco only a couple of weeks to break him and lure him to his death.
Sliding his eyes closed, Silco breathes in slowly, letting the wind carry the scent to him. It was deliciously rich, speaking of the kind of life experience the previous overconfident prey hadn’t had. There was a strange tang to it as well, something that felt different from anything he’d smelt before.
As the large figure eventually steps out of the shed and makes his way into the dim glow of the front door lights, Silco get’s a proper look at the new keeper. He’d already noted this man was large, probably larger than anyone he’d seen trying to man the lighthouse. The dark brown hair had streaks of grey here and there, indicating he had to be at least a decade or two older than that little Marcus.
Not old old, there was definitely none of that frailness you’d expect from elderly, but this man was clearly past his most explosive youthful years. Silco backs away further into the shadows as the lightkeep’s eyes now scan the dark waters, their sharpness almost surprising him.
"Oh, this one is going to be a challenge, isn’t he?”
Silco mutters to himself with a faint chuckle, his entire body giddy with the mere idea. The previous keepers hadn’t managed to provide that much entertainment, dying or leaving far too easily. Something told him this one wouldn’t be as easy to break down.
That was fine, Silco had been growing desperately bored at this point, and having a more difficult prey to hunt was a welcome change. He breathes in the scent again, still wondering between the hunger gnawing at his stomach and the way his mouth watered, what that strange musky and tangy part of the smell was. It felt too harsh, too strong for a human, like something sharp grazing his senses. He’d likely find out later what it was about; for now he’d let the man settle in and observe first.
With one last, deep inhale, Silco sinks under the dark surface, disappearing into the murky depths unseen.
As the sun creeps above the horizon somewhere behind the gray clouds the next day, the keeper has visitors. Silco pays them no real mind, having seen them before. Likely people who owned the towering structure, always coming in to bring new supplies for the next keeper. There was an extra person among them, a balding man with glasses that seemed to know the lightkeep, judging from the fairly friendly conversation between them. Silco could not hear any of the words from this far away but could tell from the pair's demeanor; going closer during daytime risked him being seen.
Breathing in, he examines the scent of each potential prey; the two men he’d seen before reeked of piss and fear, they always did when coming here, eyeing the water with barely disguised unease. Silco was sometimes tempted to snatch them as well, but that’d be too risky. He needed his prey to be alone for this to be worthwhile.
Curiously enough, the two men were not looking at the water this time around however, their eyes fixated on the lightkeeper. Almost if they were intimidated by the man more than the murky waters surrounding the lighthouse. When they walk past him to deliver the supplies into the tower, they kept an eye on him, appearing very tense.
How strange.
Silco’s gaze drifts back towards his primary target, getting a better look now in broad daylight, even if far away. He confirms his earlier observations of the man’s size and slightly graying hair and beard; perhaps it made sense those two would be intimidated, he was tall for a human, arms so large it seemed plausible he could crush someone’s skull with his bare hand.
Silco glances around, then curiosity wins him over; he sinks underwater, swimming along the edge of the cliffside until he could get closer to the shore, close enough to perhaps hear something. There was a risk he could be seen, but remaining in the shadows of the ledge should keep him hidden, paired with the jagged rocks littering the bottom. Hiding behind one of those dark pillars, Silco strains his ears to listen; the wind howling around him does dampen the sounds, but he could catch some parts of the conversation.
"……sure about this, big guy? This place got a reputation after all.”
"T’s fine. Someone’s gotta do it. Better me than another young lass who’s too big for his britches and wounds up floating face-down in the water.”
Oh.
A strange shiver ran down Silco’s spine upon hearing that deep cadence the new keeper spoke with; he presses closer against the rock, wishing the wind would die down so he could hear better.
"But it could happen to you.”
The new lightkeeper seems to wave his hand dismissively at his concerned companion, tapping his forearm. It was a strange gesture, and Silco dares to take a closer peek from behind the rock, still remaining in the shadows of the cliff.
"I’m tougher than I look Benzo. I can handle this.”
"I know, but still. Be careful yeah? I’d rather not—you know. Let alone have you regret things.”
"I've got it covered, don't worry. been dealing with it for years now."
The man - Benzo, was it? - reaches a hand out to squeeze the keeper’s massive shoulder, and the newcomer just offers him a confident smile, smacking the hand away playfully as he tells his apparent friend to stop being a mother hen.
The two others now return from placing the supplies wherever they were needed, still giving the lightkeeper a wide berth. Were they truly that intimidated by his size? How amusingly pathetic. His gaze shifts back towards the lightkeep, noting from closer up that this human was….acceptably pleasant to look at. The previous one hadn’t been half bad either, but he’d lacked the life experience that shone through this man’s eyes and posture. He wasn’t nervous like a young child about the embark away from the safe haven of their crib into the cruelty of life, nor boastful like a too naive hothead thinking far too highly of himself.
No, this one was someone who knew exactly where they stood, what they were capable of. Someone who had nothing to prove to anyone.
Silco had to admit it was something rather new and exciting, for most keepers he’d dealt with the past ten or so years had been either on the younger side, or boring old farts and hags with a death wish. This man was something different, but Silco wasn’t quite certain yet what that meant.
He watches the group eventually head back to the horse carriage they’d come there with, the poor animals shifting nervously as they could likely sense his presence in the water. Understandable if silly reaction, for he had no desire for hunting land animals. Shifting his gaze back towards the lonesome man now standing there and watching his friend leave, Silco feels familiar restless energy settle into his poison infested system.
This would be—
Suddenly, the lightkeeper’s gaze drifts towards the jagged rocks, and Silco presses himself back, slinking deeper into the shadows and the murky water, feeling his heart skip a beat. For a second, it felt like the man was staring right at him, but the grey eyes matching the skies above eventually drift away, and the lightkeeper heads back inside.
Silco sinks back into the water, swimming out to the bay beneath the surface as he starts planning his next steps, that deep, oddly attractive voice still echoing in his mind like a persistent song one couldn’t quite recall properly.
Observing his prey wasn’t always the easiest, given they typically stayed inside the tower, rarely venturing outside apart from getting more firewood or other supplies. Given how polluted the water around this part was, fishing was not something the lightkeep here could do, unless they wished to die via food poisoning. It was also the reason why no other siren like him existed in these parts, rest had been long killed off by the pollution the nearby city’s factories pumped into the water. The only reason Silco was still alive, was because he’d been born into the sludge; his body naturally having adapted to the environment where it wasn’t toxic to him.
That didn’t mean he hadn’t been affected as well of course; unlike his brethren living elsewhere in the oceans or even other parts of the isle of Zaun shores, Silco had no singing voice to speak of. He could never lure someone to their deaths like you’d expect from his kind. Silco had other ways of doing it of course, but it didn’t stop him from feeling somehow lacking, broken.
It wasn’t like his kin didn’t think so, either.
'Dirty little thing,' a social pariah; he never left the bay because he wouldn’t be accepted among his people, seen as diseased and dangerous. Ugly even, too ugly to join the rest.
He’d once been bitter about it, perhaps he still was, but it was a hatchet he’d buried long ago; he did not blame them, honestly. Pale and skinny to the point his ribcage would protrude out if he didn’t get a proper meal in a while, hair more of an filthy oil slick rather than the smooth cascading seaweed curls most others had.
He’d think of himself as cursed as well, contagious, if he was in their fins.
Making his way to a familiar cavern, Silco swims through it, going past glowing underwater mushrooms littering the walls; the fungi used to shine with many different colors, but the pollution in the water had changed them so much the only hue you’d ever see now was sickly, bright green. He reaches the air pocket in no time, climbing up from the water and sitting at the coarse sand for a moment, blackened from ash and whatever else was polluting the bay. He turns to look at his long, black fin, more reminiscent of a snake than anything else.
Closing his eyes, Silco focuses; this part was always painful thanks to the toxins coursing in his system since birth. Unlike most, transformation required more effort and energy for him, often leaving him panting and gathering his breath for a while as his vision swam in colorful lights, briefly bringing something else to his surroundings than sickly greenish hues.
Eventually, the fin is replaced by blackened human limbs, sharp looking toenails protruding at the ends of each toe. His arms carried the same sickly look to them, his skin permanently stained oily black from his surroundings. Dirty little thing.
Standing up shakily once his vision clears, Silco makes his way towards the small opening, a hole that’d lead to the basement of the lighthouse. It was a gap in the thick wooden boards, obscured from view by old barrels and boxes at the other side. The foundation for the structure had once caved here, and instead of repairing it properly, they’d just covered the hole with thick wooden boards to hide it, that had eventually rotten away enough to grant Silco the secret passageway inside.
Someday they’d probably notice it and block it finally, but until then he’d use it to his advantage.
He listens beneath the hole for a moment, but there were no sounds above; the keeper was likely upstairs right now, checking on the light to make sure it was working. It was the typical thing each newcomer did first around this time.
Reaching up, Silco pulls himself through the hole carefully, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the basement quickly; his eyes were used to near lightless surroundings due to the dark waters, making it easy for him to see and navigate in the dark. Even if he couldn’t see, Silco knew the basement like the back of his hand, able to navigate through it blind. There were some new things at one corner, likely the new supplies brought to the new keeper he hadn’t sorted into their proper places yet. Curious, Silco paces to the pile, carefully lifting the lid from one of the boxes. It was mostly clothing, some pots and pans in another.
What does pique his interest was what was among the clothes, something that felt out of place.
Chains.
Very sturdy looking ones. Why would the lightkeep need those?
Closing the boxes carefully, Silco makes his way up the stairs to the door, pressing his ear against it to listen. He couldn’t hear anything on the other side, but just to be safe, he breathes in again. The familiar scent fills his lungs, hunger lifting its head again though Silco keeps it at bay.
Above, it was faint; as he’d suspected, the man was up with the light.
He pushes the door open slowly, keeping an eye on the staircase nearby in case the man would come back. So far, it seemed safe for him to continue observing. Silco steps out from the basement into the living space of the keeper, having been there many times before. He’d sometimes leave stained foot- and handprints everywhere to terrorize whoever the occupant was, but for now he does his best to be as discreet as he could.
For now, he was just studying his prey, to see what was the best approach.
The living quarters appeared similar to how the previous keeper had left it, apart from the missing pile of pin-up magazines he’d had tucked under the bed, some of which had been suspiciously stained. That young fool wasn’t the first one to carry such objects with him, but Silco was still glad this older human didn’t seem to be that type.
There were some new personal items at the shelves, mostly books to pass the time, an old barrel-shaped beer keg and a smaller, decorated glass beside it. The design was quite intricate, and something told Silco those two items held a lot of personal value. Why else would they be on display like this? He notes that some of the books seemed to be peculiarly about magic; it wasn’t a topic he often saw the keepers to be interested in, but clearly this one was. Mostly about curses and old legends, even a tome speaking of different types of beings living around the isle and beyond.
Silco was curious to see if it spoke of sirens as well - likely, their kin were notorious around Zaun - but he leaves the books be, noticing something else interesting in the corner. There was a photo at the nightstand next to the bed. That was certainly new, the previous ones had no family photos or anything with him, being a young single man.
Pacing there, Silco picks it up carefully, noting it indeed looked like a family photo. The lightkeep stood there with two other adults, a man and a woman who were holding onto each other, alongside what seemed to be two young daughters; the blue haired one was clinging to the keeper’s arm like a little monkey, his smile wide and warm at the girl’s antics.
It was a bit peculiar of a photo, as Silco suspected the kid’s parents were the man and woman in the picture, not him. Perhaps he was an uncle who was particularly close to this family? Also, the other man in the picture felt vaguely familiar…
Placing the photo back down exactly as it was, Silco now paces to the large, round table near the kitchen section, noting there was a letter opened at the table, perhaps something given to the keeper by his friend. The handwriting in it was quite neat, and judging from the tone of it, whoever the writer was, was close with the keeper.
"Vander,
Benzo told me about your choice. I know I can’t stop you from doing this, but please reconsider.
The girls would hate losing you too. It wasn’t your fault, he was just careless.
Come back home.
- Feli”
A sound gains his attention, and Silco quickly places the letter back, slipping back through the crack of the basement door, watching as the man’s large frame appear down the stairs, eventually reaching the bottom. His scent immediately permeates the air, making a hungry shudder run down Silco’s spine. He’d never smelt anything like this, it was so strong and mouth watering the hunger in his stomach was growing painful.
The man paces to the table and picks up the letter, gray eyes scanning over the words with an unreadable expression. This was the closest look Silco had gotten so far, and he had to yet again agree with his earlier assessment. This one was strangely attractive.
Silco didn’t mind if he found his prey pleasant to observe, but it did make the temptation to play with your food rise its head, something he always refused to do. He knew some of his kin would sometimes play with their prey like that, seduce them and trick them into thinking they’d be safe. He found that tasteless, personally. You shouldn’t play with your food.
The man huffs out a sigh as he folds the letter, placing it back against the table while rubbing his eyes. Whatever those words meant, whoever this ’Feli’ was, there was clear baggage hidden within it all, a mystery Silco was admittedly curious about.
"It’s not just about that, Feli. It started here.”
His low voice reaches Silco’s ears, deep like the depths of the dark waters he lingered in. His claws sink into the thick wood of the door, to physically restrain himself from stepping out. Had he not been fed enough by the blood of the previous keeper, and whatever he’d hunted in between? It was almost bizarre how hungry Silco felt now, so much so it was making him dizzy.
It was that smell, that oddly powerful, musky and foresty scent that had that strange note to it; it kept invading his mind so strongly Silco almost felt like he was being drugged.
Suddenly, the lightkeep drops his hand, gray eyes sharpening as he looks around. Silco freezes, observing from the crack of the door as the man scans his surroundings; had he made a noise, or was it something else? The grey eyes drift closer towards the basement door now, and Silco feels his breath catch in his throat, as the man starts walking towards it. He quickly backs away, making his way downstairs into the shadows of the basement, sinking behind the crates and barrels his entrance was hidden by.
Light pierces into the dark through the door being pushed open, and Silco could hear heavy footsteps heading down, almost covering the sound of his rapid heartbeat. Had the keeper noticed him?
The man stands there, quiet, his shadow cast above Silco on the wall. There was a mixture of unease and thrill coursing in his poisoned veins now, having not expected this. Typically the keepers were less aware of their surroundings, making it easy for Silco to slip in and out unnoticed.
Clearly, this was not the case with this man.
Silco almost holds his breath now, noting the man was standing very close to his hiding spot. He admittedly wasn’t sure what he should do if he was caught; this man - Vander - was much larger than anyone he’d ever dealt with before, and while Silco did have strength beyond human, it probably wouldn’t be enough in this case. He didn’t currently have enough toxins in his system either for a venomous scratch or a bite.
He waits, as quiet as he could, as the keeper paces around some more, then thankfully heads further away. From the sounds of it he seemed to be checking through his things now, muttering to himself as he did so.
".....Suppose I should bring these upstairs. Must’ve imagined it.”
Silco hears his heavy footsteps eventually walk back upstairs, the light slowly vanishing as the door is closed behind the man. Without further ado, Silco slips back through the hole, his steps a bit more hasty than perhaps necessary as he makes his way back to the water, its dark, murky embrace helping his racing heart to calm itself.
Once Silco makes it back to his cave dwelling, he just floats in the water for a moment, watching droplets of it fall down from the ceiling above, littered with those glowing fungi like strange green stars.
He hadn’t made any noise for sure, he’d put everything back in place, he’d made sure not to leave any marks. Yet, somehow the keeper seemingly knew where he was hiding, or at least suspected so.
How?
This was so different to what he was used to, and Silco began to suspect this case would prove an even bigger of a challenge than he even anticipated. Closing his eyes, that scent was still permeating his senses, clinging to his nostrils almost tauntingly. The hunger pains it sent coursing through his body were powerful enough that he has to sink to the bottom of the water pool, curling up there to try and wait for it to be over.
What was it about this man’s smell that seemed to send his body into frenzy like this? Silco was admittedly starting to get unnerved, for he’d never experienced such a powerful need before. Something so strong it felt like he hadn’t fed properly for weeks, even though he knew full well he had. He shouldn’t be having these spasms, and yet…
Silco pushes himself off the lake bottom, swimming outside to go hunt some fish to eat for now, hoping it’d ease the unpleasant swirling in his stomach.
It had been a few days since his initial venturing inside the lighthouse, which had nearly ended in him getting caught. Silco hadn’t dared to attempt it again for a little while, still shaken by how easily he’d almost gotten caught. That, and the strangely powerful effect this Vander’s scent had on him; Silco had never experienced this before, and wasn’t certain how to deal with it. He hated the sensation of losing control over his own instincts, and something about this keeper seemed to provoke them more than anything else - or anyone else - that came before.
So far, the keeper hadn’t left the lighthouse at all to give him a chance to snoop around undisturbed, which to be fair was understandable; right now he had everything he needed, it’d take a little while for any new supplies to be required. Watching the tower against the backdrop of the setting sun, Silco wonders how long he’d have to wait. After his first attempt nearly turning disastrous, he didn’t dare to go again until the man was away from the lighthouse.
As the door to the tower opens, Silco sinks back behind the rock he’d been resting on, watching the lightkeeper pace around the tower to the cliffside, watching the sun set with hands in his pockets. His strong silhouette was framed by the golden glow, and Silco dares an inhale, able to pick up on the man’s scent even from this far away. He notes the strange tang was stronger today, overpowering the typical foresty scent the man carried. It smelt…alive, wild in some way, Silco didn’t have the words to describe it.
He watches the man head back inside, noting there was tension to his limbs now.
That night, Silco decides to test the waters, heading for his secret entrance again. The man was clearly sharp-sensed awake, but what about asleep? It was risky, but his curiosity and hunger pains was getting worse. There was only so long Silco could afford to wait before his instincts would start to try and overrule his reason.
Slipping out of the water in the small air pocket, Silco waits for a moment for the transformation aches to subside, before getting back on his feet and heading towards his secret opening. Like before, he scents the air first, not picking up on the man’s scent. He wasn’t in the basement at least, though why would he be at this hour? Pulling himself up from the hole, Silco waits for a moment again as his eyes adjust to the darkness surrounding him. The basement looked largely the same, only thing that had been moved were the crates of personal things. They now sat mostly empty in another corner, as Vander had likely moved the objects stored in them into the living spaces.
Pacing up the stairs, he scents the air, noting much to his surprise the keeper didn’t seem to be in his bed. His scent was somewhere above; perhaps checking on the light. It was full moon outside so the night was brighter than usual, but the lighthouse’s guiding illumination was likely still needed.
Stepping out, Silco finds some dishes at the sink, a pot with leftover soup still sitting at the stove. The bed looked untouched indicating the man hadn’t even gone to bed once this night yet. A hard worker, or just insomniac, who knew.
Silco paces to the pot, the food having gone cold now; some sort of meat stew, it honestly didn’t look half-bad, he’d seen the keepers make worse concoctions over the years. Putting the lid back on, Silco peeks into the small closet now, suspecting it was where the clothes in those crates had ended up in. The small room smelt somewhat musky and damp, a typical smell permeating most of this building in fact. It was however easily overpowered by the keeper’s own scent, firmly attached to each piece of clothing currently stored there.
Silco picks up one of the white shirts tossed to the basket nearby, a food stain on it. It smelt quite strongly of Vander, indicating he’d been wearing it today. He presses it to his face, inhaling the delicious scent for a moment; he’d get to taste that mouthwatering blood soon enough, he just needed to be a bit more careful about his hunt this time around.
A strange sound catches his attention, and Silco quickly drops the piece of clothing back into place, peeking from behind the closet door to see if the man had gone down. No sign of his large frame, perhaps he’d just dropped something above while attending the light.
Slipping out of the closet, Silco wonders if there was something he could use to learn more about his prey; so far he knew the man’s name, that he had some sort of family or relatives out there, and that he clearly had much sharper awareness than anyone before him that had manned this tower.
Pacing to the bookshelf next, there was another interesting detail Silco now reminded himself of. The man’s peculiar interest in the arcane and the mystic beings existing around humans on Zaun and beyond. Most preferred not to bother and know, a topic usually referred to scholars from what Silco knew. The man didn’t strike him as a scholar, so why such interest?
His fingers reach towards one of the books, when a sound catches his attention again. Heavy footsteps heading down, except something about it sounded off, erratic, more akin to someone stumbling down than walking.
Moments later, something massive bursts into the staircase through the door above, and Silco whips around, pressing his back against the bookshelf. The large shadow currently crouched at the staircase platform above was breathing harshly, a sound akin to a growl emanating from its throat that was definitely not human.
What…..what the hell was that thing?
He’s hit with the sharp scent of something tangy and metallic, so overwhelming it almost makes his feet wobbly. The strange creature grows quiet, lifting its head with piercing red eyes scanning the darkness below. Silco stood there frozen, hoping the nightly shadows kept him hidden from view.
A low growl emanates from it again, and Silco watches as the beastly thing slowly makes its way down on its fours, eventually appearing into the sliver of moonlight cast in from through the circular window above the entrance to the lighthouse. The beast was large, covered in thick fur with sharp teeth protruding out of its mouth. Silco had never seen such a thing before, but he could tell this was extremely dangerous.
Whatever this creature was, it had very sharp and long claws and teeth, and looked like it could easily tear him to pieces with them.
Currently, the beast was seemingly just pacing around and sniffing the air, almost curiously studying its surroundings. Silco begins to inch his way back towards the basement as quietly as he could, knowing he needed to get out as fast as possible. He could deal with humans, even larger ones, but a beast like this?
Where had that thing even come from, where was the lightkeep?
Had this thing eaten him, was that the strange sound Silco had heard earlier?
There was no blood on the creature’s fur, but it was difficult to tell, even his sharp eyes couldn’t quite discern color in the dark, for all he knew the rusty scent came from its meal and not the beast itself.
He makes his way to the door, but just as he’s about to slip back into the safety of the basement, there’s a growl behind him. Next second, a large clawed hand grabs him and throws him back against the table, scattering the dishes left on it to the floor. The impact knocks all the air from his lungs, and Silco slumps to the floor with a cough, tasting blood in his mouth as he must’ve bit his tongue.
A large clawed hand pins him down, and Silco could see the beast’s vividly red eyes peer down at him, sharp teeth glinting under the moonlight. There was clear hunger in those eyes, and Silco feels himself panic, hissing and using his claws to jab the beast’s arm; the venom in his system would not be enough to kill such a creature, but hopefully it’d sting enough to allow him to escape.
Sure enough, the beast recoils with a pained groan, and Silco slips away from under it as fast as he could, kicking it in the face for good measure. He now heads towards the front door as the creature was between him and the basement, and Silco didn’t want to risk the thing following him to the opening below.
Unfortunately, the beast had other plans as a massive hand grabs his leg now, throwing him to the floor again this time hard enough that he bangs his head, feeling blood seep out from an injury; he must’ve cut his scalp to a jagged piece of wood or a nail protruding up from the floorboards. For a second all he sees were stars, quickly replaced by the gaping maw of the beast as it attempt to bite him. Silco quickly jabs it again, this time the massive hand smacks him away in response, large claws swinging wildly; despite his best efforts to dodge, it lands.
Sharp jolt of pain hits his face as Silco rolls away, his vision now partially coated with red.
Droplets of blood hit the floor beneath him, his head was throbbing with severe pain.
Somehow, Silco manages to scramble up again, grabbing the nearby stool and throwing it at the beast to distract it, before sprinting towards the entrance. Despite the immense pain and his vision swimming in deep red hues, Silco manages to open the door, hurrying towards the water while leaving a trail of blood behind him the beast was clearly trailing.
Diving into the water, Silco swims as fast as he could, transforming mid-movement to get away, hoping the beast wouldn’t follow.
Once he makes it to the deeper depths, Silco pops his head back up to the surface, looking back towards the beach. The beast still stood there - or more like slouched - red eyes peering at him from through the nightly darkness. Thankfully, it didn’t seem eager to follow him for a swim. The silent stare-off lasts for what feels like an eternity, with Silco’s face still stinging from the deep gashes the beast’s claws had caused; even if the water would eventually heal it enough to stop the bleeding, Silco knew the scar would stay. His body didn’t have enough regenerative power to recover from such an attack fully.
After a while of staring back at him, the beast eventually rears its head back and howls, an eerie echoing sound that permeated the air around him, making him want to sink back underwater and hide. Silco watches the beast eventually turn and disappear into the darkness of the forest, leaving him floating there terrified out of his mind, his face stinging as his own blood coated his mouth and vision.
The lighthouse stood there silently, its light shining in the darkness like a guiding star, as if nothing unusual had occurred in the night.
Too terrified to go back to his small cave, Silco dives deeper into the waters, eventually finding his other favorite spot to linger; an old merchant ship that had sank there sometime ago. There were no bodies in it as the crew had managed to save themselves before it sank. Making his way there had taken some effort admittedly, he’d lost a significant amount of blood from his injury even if it was healing already.
He takes a moment to just remain still so the dizziness eases before slipping inside the old sunken ship.
Silco makes his way to the captain’s quarters, finding what he was looking for; an old cracked mirror attached to the wall nearby, covered in small sea creatures and growths, but still reflective enough. Silco almost hesitates, but then dares to look at his reflection. The bleeding had stopped, but the reflection confirmed what he’d already feared he’d see.
The scars were gnarly and deep, mauling the entirety of that half of his face; his eye was milky looking, and Silco could tell his vision was affected. He couldn’t see out of it properly even if the red veil had lifted, and his eyelid looked to be practically torn off, meaning he couldn’t close it.
"Damn it.”
Silco brushes his fingers against the scars, before swimming into one corner of the room, just sitting down there and curling up, hiding away from the world for a moment. He should’ve been more careful, taken a closer inventory on what he was smelling. Then again maybe he wouldn’t have recognized that beast’s scent, he had no idea what it was. Some sort of land dwelling monster that was clearly capable of hunting other intelligent beings, humans and even sirens like him.
His poison hadn’t seemingly done anything to stagger the beast at all; even if he was out of stronger toxins, it still should’ve done something at least.
Silco lifts his gaze up again, seeing his small frame huddled up in the corner in the mirror reflection.
Dirty little thing, ugly, not worth being called a siren.
He certainly felt all those words rang even more true now; the scar was hideous, and while he’d never had a reason to particularly care for his appearance - he was incapable of using seduction as a tactic like other sirens due to lack of voice - that gnarly slash across his face still hurt his pride. If there had been one thing about him that had still felt siren worthy, it was his face. Now that was ruined as well.
Silco curses the beast inside his head, curling up more as he hides his face again, feeling some local fauna swim by, paying no mind to the self-pitying, crying siren sitting in their home right now.
He doesn’t dare to get back up to the surface until late midday, watching the tower and wondering how long it’d take before someone would come and recover the body. There was no way the keeper had survived that attack; the beast must’ve snuck up on him before smelling Silco downstairs. It made him even more angry, not just because of the terror and scarring that beast had caused, but it had taken his prey from him. He’d been looking forward to this one.
The door to the lighthouse opens, and Silco half-expects witnessing one of the typical workers carrying out a body, or perhaps even that man, Benzo, stepping out looking distraught.
Instead, he is greeted by something unexpected.
Silco watches in shock as the lightkeeper himself steps out, squinting in the daytime light while shielding his eyes. He looked completely unharmed, the man’s scent confirming the lack of damage once the wind carries it to Silco. It smelt healthy, strong as ever.
"What…..?”
He dives underwater and swims closer, peeking at the keeper who now paces to the small sliver of sandy beach, crouching down to study the dark stains Silco had left behind last night in the sand. He was dangerously close now, but Silco dares to peek at him from behind some of the jagged rocks, noting that apart from looking tired, he genuinely had no injuries. How?
Had he not been in the lighthouse after all, when the beast had entered?
Perhaps his scent was just so powerful that it permeated the lighthouse even when he wasn’t present.
The lightkeeper hums as fingers brush against the stained sand, bringing some of it up to his nose to smell it. It was a strange gesture, and Silco watches him eventually drop his hand down to the knee he was leaning on, grey eyes looking ahead towards the waters.
"A siren, huh? Thought so. Doubt its dead.”
Silco’s body runs cold, watching the man wipe his hand to his trousers before getting back up, heading towards the lighthouse. Had he….had he somehow known what kind of blood the long since dried stain was? How? Humans didn’t have such a keen sense of smell. As Silco watches him go, his eyes suddenly notice something; there was a bandage around his arm, it was the same arm he’d—
His eyes fixate on the man’s receding back, a mixture of curiosity, anger, and slight fear swirling in his system now. Was….was this why this man smelt strange? Why he had that odd tang to his scent that Silco had never experienced from a human before.
It was because Vander was no ordinary lightkeeper.