The Silent Song by Whitney Vockrodt
Dragons & Wyverns Short Story Challenge
10th place
The Silent Song
A siren without a song is just another fish. At least that’s what Ishlaya, a siren unable to hear and therefore unable to sing, has always been led to believe. But when an encounter with a deadly ocean predator reveals a bond she never expected, Ishlaya discovers that magic takes many forms.
Trigger Warnings: Mild Blood/Injury, Mild Animal Death (wild animal eaten by another)
My heart races in my chest, and my gills flutter in apprehension as I scan the dim water. I can sense the danger, though I can’t see or hear it. That’s the thing about living among predators. Regardless of where my other senses fail, there’s still the deep-rooted, all-consuming knowing that I’m being hunted.
It happens quickly. One moment, I’m laying across a rock on the ocean floor, lazily trailing my fingers through the water while the tiny sea dragons dance around me, their leaf-like fins and appendages quivering with joy. The next, a stillness settles over the ocean. My friends no longer follow the coaxing of my hands, but melt back into the kelp forest beside us.
The leisurely wafting of my blue tail stills and my fingers flicker, twisting to form words I’ll never be able to say aloud.
Peace. Calm. It will be alright, just focus.
My eyes land on a dark shape. The barracuda is massive, one of the largest I’ve ever seen, though still not large enough to take on a siren at full power.
Not that I would pose much of a threat. Born deaf, I’ve never been able to access the magic my nonexistent voice should have provided. It’s always there, simmering beneath the surface, but sealed behind a door I can’t pry open. Pitiful Ishlaya, the songless siren.
I wish I had a dagger or spear to defend myself, but I hadn’t been in my right mind after my school exiled me. The salvagers, the cooks, the healers, the cleaners. None of them could tolerate a deaf apprentice.
Either they wouldn’t take the time to learn my hand signals, or they grew frustrated with my silence. When nobody wanted me, I became a burden the school couldn’t carry. So now I’m on my own for whatever short time I have left. Because a siren without a song is just another fish, and a songless siren without her school is chum.
I’ve found temporary refuge in this kelp forest where the seahorses and leafy sea dragons never judge me or demand a song I’ll never sing. There’s comfort in our shared silence. Now they hide among the kelp, though a few stragglers are still exposed, swimming as fast as their tiny fins will allow. Roughly the length of my forearm, they’re the perfect meal for this predator.
There’s the faintest ripple through the water as the barracuda tenses, the ocean holding its breath before it strikes at a blinding speed.
I hurl myself forward, ignoring the sting in my hand as I shove off the rock toward my little green friends, my hands flying as I desperately plead with my magic. Save them. Protect them. PLEASE.
As always, the magic remains dormant, still blocked and buried. My body is all I can use. I twist, smacking my tail against the attacker. The impact sends us both flying, but not before its sharp teeth slice through my scales.
I taste my own blood in the water as it filters through my gills. The wound isn’t severe, but it’s enough. The barracuda hones in on the blood clouding the water and shoots toward me. It never finds its mark.
An unheard tremble of sound cuts through the water so deeply that the ocean vibrates in its wake. The ground beneath me lurches, and I careen head over fin down to the sand below, leaving a trail of my blood suspended in the water behind me.
My eyes widen in shock as the rocks beneath the kelp forest move. The ground morphs from a solid surface to a living monstrosity.
A dragon, a true sea dragon, larger than any creature I’ve ever seen. The stories say they’re the guardians of the ocean, their power and strength unparalleled. Most importantly, they’re not supposed to be real.
But there’s no denying the reality of the creature before me. It intercepts the barracuda in a flash, its long mouth opening wide to show rows of teeth as long as my arm. That massive maw snaps shut, and as the behemoth swallows its meal, I remain frozen, unable to do anything but stare.
The dragon is covered in a mottled combination of black and gray scales. What I thought were rocks are actually bone-like ridges jutting out along its form.
Its glowing yellow eyes search the area as its mouth opens again, tasting the salty ocean. The gills behind its jaw churn the water, sucking it in before expelling it again with a wave of bubbles. My heart freezes in my chest at the exact moment it finds what it's looking for. Me.
I don’t know if it tastes or smells the tang of my blood first, but in an instant, those massive yellow orbs are trained on me.
Impossibly fast, the dragon somehow folds the entire kelp forest flat along its back as it charges through the water.
The water around me vibrates and pressure resonates deep in my chest. Whatever bellow it’s emitting is strong enough for me to feel it, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the sensation. When I reopen them, my heart drops.
The dragon looms over me. The kelp forest rises again to emphasize its massive height. My hands babble in front of me, forming incoherent words and sentences as I take what I assume will be my last gulps of water.
Before the dragon can devour me, a small, glowing figure drifts down between us, its entire body alight with skittering greens and blues. Another follows it, then another and another until the entire herd of tiny glowing sea dragons is floating toward me.
I’ve seen the bioluminescence of other deep-dwelling species, but as far as I’m aware, no seahorse or sea dragon has ever emitted the glow.
Tears flood my eyes as I try to gesture for them to turn back, to flee, but they’re undeterred. Miraculously, the massive dragon only tilts its head in what looks like curiosity. Its smaller counterparts surround me, their bodies dancing with a dizzying array of colors. As one, they close in to bump their delicate snouts against me. The action sends tingles across my skin and down the scales of my tail as faint traces of their glow transfer to me. I hold up my injured palm, watching in awe as the cut stitches itself shut. When I look down at the bite on my tail, it too has disappeared, the blue scales left pristine.
How is that possible?
The little healers gradually drift back, and I do my best to gather them behind me for whatever meager protection I can provide. I beg them to remain safe, hands flying in silent words. I turn back to see the dragon lit with the same bioluminescence. Taloned feet sink into the sand as it crouches to my level.
My fingers halt their frantic movements as the dragon leans forward until its nose sits a mere finger-length away. Then it waits, huffing water in my direction when I don’t move right away.
Never taking my eyes from the creature, I reach out with slow and trembling hands until they gently rest on the scales of its snout.
They’re smoother than I expected, and warm. As soon as I make contact, a tremble passes through the dragon, its eyes closing in an expression I would almost call delight. I rip my hands back when they begin to glow, but the light doesn’t fade. Instead, it spreads up my arms, over my shoulders, and down my body, swirling around my heart.
The light is accompanied by a sensation that is both warm and cool. Not uncomfortable, but strange. Then it goes deeper, a pressure building inside of me until something clicks. The door restraining my magic flies open, as though it finally found the right key. The rush of power is exhilarating, flooding my entire being with a light I can feel but can’t see. It’s warmth, joy, and peace all rolled into one.
Whole. It’s the feeling of finally being whole.
When I look back up in wonder, my hands move, emitting a golden glow in the dark water.
Thank you.
The dragon turns its eye on me again, letting out a pleased chuff of acknowledgement. It raises its head as its throat vibrates in another deep rumble that I can feel in my chest. The tiny animals around me begin swimming back toward the protection of the kelp forest.
Meanwhile, the dragon eyes me expectantly. Uncertain, but wanting to see this through, I raise my hands between us.
I’m Ishlaya.
It gives me a look that clearly says, I know.
I don’t know how to comprehend that, so instead I ask, Do you have a name? This time, the dragon’s expression tells me just how stupid of a question that is. To my utter shock, it reaches forward with a clawed foot, carving in the sand between us.
M-O-R-O-V-A
I look up at her - because Morova means “Mother Guardian” - and smile. She gives me a soft look in return before deciding that we’ve dallied long enough. She snaps her teeth in my direction, not aggressively, but enough for me to understand her impatience.
Confused, I raise my hands again, but Morova jerks her head up, a clear signal for me to join the collection of tiny creatures on her back.
I should hesitate, but as my magic hums through my veins for the first time, its warmth pulses at her gesture. There’s a tug from deep within me, like my soul is joined to hers, an aching loneliness that eases the closer I am to her.
Once I’m situated atop her head, I give it an awkward pat to let Morova know I’m ready. She shoves off in one smooth motion, the force enough for me to grip her rock-like scales, but not enough to knock me over.
After a few minutes in open water, I lean over the side of her head, seeing my reflection in her giant eye as it focuses on me. My hands flicker again.
You protect them?
The seahorses and sea dragons float among her leaves while Morova keeps a languid pace, her massive tale propelling us through the water without jostling or disturbing them. She nods. My fingers twitch nervously as I work up the courage to ask my next question. Can I help?
She regards me for a moment, considering. Apprehension makes my gills twitch. Can I ask that of her? Can I risk failing as an apprentice to a creature that would swallow me whole because of it? Am I worthy enough to try?
She must sense my inner turmoil, because warmth thrums in the connection between us along with the scales beneath me, as if conveying her pleasure at the idea. She gives her body a shake, and I take the hint to sit upright. When I turn back at our wonderful little collection of life, I frown. Their movements are sluggish, tiny fins barely keeping them afloat as they list to and fro.
I lift my hands, not giving myself the option for doubt. Magic stirs in my veins, and for the first time, it answers my call. My hands weave a song of peace, comfort, and happiness, of a future worth anticipating.
As I do, a glow originating in my heart stretches from my fingers through the water in swirls of shimmering gold. The song weaves around the tiny creatures, blanketing them in its warmth and soothing their exhaustion until they relax into the kelp. Once they’re settled, the last lingering notes of my silent song trail off, its golden swirls dissipating into the sea.
Morova shudders beneath me as she lowers the kelp forest, safely cocooning the creatures between the leaves and her back as she rumbles in satisfaction. With a serene smile, I lay on Morova’s head, finally understanding peace in the silence of the ocean.