The Eternal

By Bonnie Maisen

Every siren in Onda’s class had amazing song powers. Rosa could heal. Jewel could create a defensive shield. Even dorky Cosmo had the power to convince the orcas that they would be better off swimming far away from Rafferty, keeping them safe from attack.

All Onda’s singing ever did was put things to sleep.

Her father had taken her to task when she complained about it. “What’s important is not how powerful your song is, but how many people you can help with it.”

“I know how I can help everyone. I’m going to become The Eternal.”

He had stared at her in silence before chuckling. “Sure you are, dear.”

She snuck out of her reef early the next morning, taking care not to wake her parents. The Eternal lived only a few miles from her neighborhood. The greatest sea creature ever to live, in control of every wave crashing onto every shore in the entire ocean. So much power.

And he hoarded it.

No one else could change even the smallest current or eddy.

Onda, on the other hand, would use the power to keep the currents from growing too warm, forcing her people into the darker chasms for months at a time. She would reshape the waves so that the butter clams could deposit themselves right outside Rafferty. Her people would have a steady supply of the most delicious food in the ocean.

Her friends laughed, but they didn’t know that she had discovered the source of The Eternal’s power. On the last Testudo’s Day, when every sentient creature in the ocean visited The Eternal to convey their thanks, her family had managed to grab a spot right next to the great beast and the priests that tended to him. All that power, and still he had siren servants catering to his every desire.

She ignored his great display of creating a whirlpool of twinkling lights around his valley and the priests singing songs of praise. She watched The Eternal himself, looking for clues. At the highest point on his back was a great black barnacle, different from the rest, not just in size, but also in action—every time he added to his performance, the barnacle seemed to glow.

Now, armed with a potion from the apothecary, she lurked behind a rock, meters from where he rested. His colossal form was shadowy in the morning half-light, but she could make out his great flippers moving at his side and the splotchy pattern on his gargantuan shell.

Onda began to sing.

Quietly at first, the words and tune that had been in her heart since birth came pouring from her lips. Although the language was so ancient no one could translate it, every newly hatched siren sang their own unique song from the moment of their birth.

Her parents loved to tell the story of how they passed out cold after she was born. She didn’t find it amusing at all.

The Eternal’s flippers jerked as if in surprise, then relaxed as Onda’s song took over. Good. She hadn’t been certain that her power would overcome his.

She swam out from behind the rock just as his eyes closed tight.

On his back she found the barnacle. A few drops of the apothecary’s potion on the barnacle, and it slipped off into her hands.

Instantly, the power flooded through her. She sensed it all. The entire ocean. Every wave, every current.

She giggled as she tried out the different waves. The gentle ones that could rock you to sleep. The foamy ones that leaped over and over themselves to the shore. Then larger ones, full of fury.

What next? All the power of the sea rested in her hands.

The butter clams. She focused on the barnacle again.

Images flashed through her mind. Too fast.

No! She didn’t want to see every butter clam in the ocean. Just those close by. Yet the images kept coming in quick succession.

She tried to drop the barnacle, to stop the onslaught of clams, but that just brought forth images of barnacles. On turtles, both great and small. Every barnacle on every whale in existence. On the hulks of ships her ancestors had sunk.

“Stop!”

But it didn’t stop. Every stray thought brought in more images. Water churned around her, circling her faster and faster. A whirlpool of her own making, and she didn’t know how she started it, much less how to make it stop.

The pressure in her brain swelled; she thought her head would explode. She once again tried to drop the barnacle, but it had attached itself to her hands. It pulsed, wrenching her life force away with every beat of her heart.

I can’t tell you how wonderful it feels to be free of that thing.

The voice in her mind creaked with age. She knew that voice. The Eternal.

“Help me, please!”

Of course, little siren. Thank you for the rest. I needed it. But I can’t let you keep the Lepas. I could never let anyone else carry that burden for long.

The images stopped. The water stilled…

Onda looked around. She was alone and only a short swim from her own reef. Far from The Eternal’s valley.

Onda spoke little for the next few days. She didn’t eat much, not even the butter clams her mother prepared especially for her. She couldn’t get the Lepas’s maelstrom out of her mind. Did The Eternal have to endure the same? That dizzying hellscape day after day, with no one to alleviate the pain?

Onda swam back to the Valley of The Eternal, a new purpose in her heart.

She couldn’t take his burden, but she could help. She could become a priest of The Eternal, using her siren song to give him rest.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bonnie Maisen is a fantasy fiction writer, homeschooling mom of three, and practice manager for a group counseling practice. She spends her spare time (Ha!) singing karaoke, playing D&D with her family, and acting in community musical theater.

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