Chapter 537

The salt spray stung Finn's face as the small fishing boat, a weathered vessel named "The Wanderer," skipped across the waves. He was sixteen, all sun-bronzed skin and a mop of dark, messy hair that constantly fell into his eyes. He gripped the worn, wooden edge of the boat, his knuckles white, feeling the spray get more excessive as the waves were growing more and more treacherous.

He loved this though, always.

Finn's grandfather, Patrick, stood at the helm, his weathered face grim. "Getting a bit rough out here, Finn. Might have to turn back, even when the fishing has just improved for the week."

Finn didn't want to turn back, even in the building bad weather. He had been so bored for a week straight and had been begging to fish since, at minimum, Friday.

"Nah, come on Pop, don't get too scared on me" Finn joked, his voice light, though his heart gave a funny little kick against his ribs. He was good at putting on an illusion of bravery, though it only works half the time, on easier targets, which did not include his own Pop, but he didn't have much else for comfort going for him out here, but light banter.

Patrick shot him a look, half-exasperated, half-fond. He'd raised Finn since the boy was five after a nasty car accident, when both parents of his didn't make it out alive. He was really the last family Finn had now. "Scared ain't in my dictionary, boy. Just being… cautious. We're far out now."

Too far out, a small, unwelcome voice whispered in Finn's mind. He'd never been this far out with his grandfather before. The water here was a deep, unsettling turquoise, different from the lighter, clearer blues of the shallower coastal waters, looking completely opaque when contrasted with the sky, becoming its opposite and absorbing more light rather than bouncing back up and out.

They went further, following where Pop's tools pointed him to follow. The storm started picking up.

Suddenly, a strange sound reached Finn's ears, cutting through the dull roar of the engine. It was like singing, but not human. Haunting, beautiful, and unbelievably unnerving. It sent a strange, primal tremor through his insides, that vibrated through the bones like the boat engine's hum, resonating with something deep in his core.

"Pop, do you hear that?"

Patrick frowned, cutting the engine. The sound was clearer now, more prominent, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It resonated in the air, a symphony of otherworldly voices, more like sounds.

"Mermaids, they used to tell tales. Sirens," he corrected, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes scanning the turbulent surface of the ocean, while a wave of fear crashed down at Finn for being so arrogant with what he wanted. He knew these folklores and ignored every thought that went through him on those.

Finn stared at him, eyes wide, though, a fresh rush of something that could only have been described as genuine anxiety filled up his body's center. "Sirens? Like… seriously? You're having me on, you always love scaring the tourists with your stories. Those poor guys."

Patrick's face was serious, the color draining from his weathered cheeks. "I'm not joking around now, son. This ain't like the time old Bruce had that stingray hooked and thought it was a monster from a children's book." He continued. "Those stories… they're based on something. Old sailors, they knew things. They saw things."

The singing grew in intensity. Now, Finn could see them. Or, at least, glimpses of them, with their silhouettes, between the rolling waves. Not like the pretty mermaids of fairy tales. These figures were too sleek, too powerful.

Their long, powerful tails lashed the water, sending up bursts of foam that shone darkly, oddly silver in the gloom. He felt nothing but fear and hopelessness, which made him more mad at himself.

He gripped the boat, he had to stop thinking negatively and try harder to not get sucked up in a disaster again. It's a bit repetitive by this point, it keeps seeming like the boy attracts bad news to happen to him or around him.

"Pop, we need to leave. Now," Finn choked, the words sticking to the top and insides of his mouth.

Patrick reached for the ignition, his hands visibly trembling. He really hated disappointing his grandson, Finn, even on occasions that weren't like the current one, it ate him from the inside to ever show him bad things were coming to him and only him in a form that makes him realize, in conclusion, that the only one making this go ahead was himself.

But it was too late.

Figures, sleek and darker and more muscular than Finn had originally perceived from afar, rose from the water. Humanoid, yes, but their skin was the color of the sea on a stormy night – dark greens, stormy greys, all shining with sea water.

Their eyes were huge, round and a deep blue, reflecting an intelligence that wasn't human. Their mouths were too wide, filled with rows of sharp, triangular teeth.

Finn couldn't tell for sure how big their tails looked, though that's just a consequence of perspective and him not having a moment for breathing space. He should stop overthinking, he will die.

The closest one's long, webbed fingers – more like claws – gripped the side of the boat with sickening ease. Finn stared, paralyzed, and trapped in time that seemed to freeze around him.

"Don't engage with their line of sight directly, son. Look away." Patrick yelled, trying to hit away, to no use, the clawed hand with a fishing rod, resulting in a hollow snap.

He shouldn't have gone with the first suggestion to move back as it had attracted it and, more starting to come up closer.

More figures started to surround and completely circle the little fishing boat. Finn, could sense a hatred directed at them that filled the space around them like another layer of air, as heavy and oppressive as the storm brewing above them. These creatures, whatever they were, radiated pure, animalistic rage, not giving any empathy away.

He made a note to research those later. If there would be a 'later'.

"Stay there boy!" his Pop commanded while he struggled to keep upright as their boat had started to get splashed hard by big wave, shaking from their intensity as he started searching wildly for any way of defense he could provide the both of them with.

He felt despair in the deepest way as his only option for defense he managed to reach in time had snapped so fast on such short notice, and not only that but after being weakened the monsters had smelled his intentions.

One of the creatures let out a shriek – a piercing sound that ripped through Finn's senses like the sharp, painful rip of the highest grade velcro ever, that sounded more painful and felt sharper.

A physical reaction caused the teenager, not knowing how he did such stupid things, to lose his stance for good.

Finn yelled, his voice, filled with sheer animal terror, barely audible against the screaming of both the human, non-human beings, and weather elements around them as he fell out of the little fisher-boat. He had always been great at swimming since young, the sport of his liking, a source of calmness. However, never in this world, he was getting close to panicking underwater, so it goes.

Finn was instantly dragged down and the frigid water filled his ears, blocking out his own cry and nearly, instantly suffocating him. He fought, panic fueled strength surged, however he didn't use his brain for that rush of extra energy provided and wasted what he had flailing out.

A clawed hand closed around his ankle, hard, unforgiving. Another grabbed at his shirt, his jeans. They were pulling him, drawing him deeper, fast as their silhouettes glided with more expertise through the black, cold and angry water.

He opened his eyes, trying to focus, vision was blurring, as everything went even darker from their distance, rapidly increasing with no pauses or mercies. Through the water and blur, he could see the silhouettes of his attackers – those horrible monsters of nature – swimming, gliding all around him, lithe and swift and unbelievably deadly in their natural territory.

There were so many… many, many, many, as far as he could reach with his sight and then further than his sight, blending out. Their horrible chanting was loud in Finn's ears, inside the water. It was as if the ocean itself was conducting the horrible melody, filling Finn's entire being, driving him near the verge of, and the end point of being - insanity.

A wave of utter, desperate fear swept through Finn, so intense it drowned out the freezing cold, the panic, for a very brief moment. This was no random attack. This was calculated. Purposeful. These… things… hated them, a burning anger that filled his ears, brain, every layer of his being that screamed at Finn, filling and radiating in his brain, through those strange song like shrieks and sounds, from these unnatural beasts, a sense that his was deep-seated. Ancestral, like his blood betrayed him.

He saw his Pop still up on the boat, battling with no fear.

As if reacting to his glance, one of the larger figures shot towards the surface, towards his only safety and last family. Finn tried to shout a warning, but only managed a desperate, choked gurgle, and mouthfuls of horrible, heavy saltwater, making him nauseous.

Everything around the man was getting worse as he watched his father figure of eleven whole years battle for his dear, last life, alone.

He saw the silhouette above, break the surface, reach for the side of the boat, it happened too quickly. Finn watched in silent horror as the creature's clawed hand connected, followed by sharp and effective kicks.

Patrick was dragged screaming over the side of the ship.

The man barely reached his late 60's and despite that he held more vitality and energy. It wasn't worth anything when his boat started to disappear with the rest of all those monster, together into the waters and to what end? How long did it take to just have a day to pass?

Finn thrashed. Useless, hopeless struggling that started and got worse by him crying and not thinking what's next, with all oxygen escaping, vision going black. This can't be, it can not, it shall not happen in such timing. What did I do to anyone in any life time, what had our folk done in previous time, I get them if they dislike fishing so much.

Finn's vision greyed completely as a cold, paralysing sensation consumed him, slowly starting on extremities. Not from the cold of the ocean's bottom's depths. This was a different feeling – this, was death. He was sure, there was no denial here as water, along with air escaped and was instantly filled up by that same substance surrounding and swallowing the poor kid.

But he didn't lose consciousness. Not completely.

The shrieking continued, growing louder, morphing, changing into that awful sound that had brought them from up deep at their space that these beasts stayed. Now, it felt less like a song and more like… words. As his lungs filled with sea water, Finn began to understand.

Intruders. A single phrase rang in his head as the boy felt water burn him internally.

Trespassers. Followed along after his first moment and it was so quick he would have died immediately hadn't he been underwater where things move a bit less sudden to keep momentum from getting disrupted so easily.

Desecrators. Shrieked loudly as an insult as Finn felt himself turn slower and heavier the longer the punishment was put on him, with his energy level matching what an old snail could offer at any moment, which wasn't that high to begin.

The sounds and phrases blended together into one horrible, continuous accusation that he did this on his own by simply stepping into their lands. Their message reverberated in Finn's dying mind, as if spoken directly into his soul, filled up with deep-seated anger. This was more, much more, that any random territorial claim, and they did nothing out of line for any reason. They had destroyed and offended, stolen. Polluted. And worst of all… they had dared to think of this as their domain.

The water grew impossibly colder around him as it drowned every last cell within, making it colder and feeling slower for what it may have had in actual objective passing time. It's still just slow.

The chanting started increasing, volume so loud, making all around vibrate on one tone with its speakers as those who have held hands. They were circling Finn even more tighter now, as fast, efficient dancers in their home grounds, no pauses in the horrible ballet they were doing with his final moment, a dance of retribution.

The water glowed slightly green with that little source they have here as it reflected on skin of those monsters, it wasn't the pretty light he thought, though it's barely anything.

Justice, was shrieked in unison as one, big speaker on Finn's head that he would rip if they were just physical external organs to shut them away, while a fresh new pain ripped the poor victim's center apart as everything gave its all and burst apart from the sudden movements from every party in the area, his heart burst with the physical tearing force and blood poured and flowed upwards, joining other similar colors as more blood escaped and rose above.

Death to those who think our land is theirs to waste., it continued after his burst.

Finn's eyes were open wide, unfocusing and blurry with death settling in, though a faint light remained. He couldn't scream. He was beyond even terror. All he felt was… understanding. The complete, utter clarity, which was, what he saw as his demise, to be the punishment from their folk.

With this death, their new story started, not stopping any soon after with those left of his kind as, for every territory that these had been the real first owners of and the first that saw its beauties that people thought it all was worth the exploitation and consumption, only their, true owners'.

The light inside him and every connection completely vanished when last one finished as he felt an unbearable burning sting, along with it a sense of loss that filled the whole scene.

The light from those monsters started going lighter and shining brighter and louder, making sure that his last sight would have the light imprint in his nerves and send this picture down his system and the kid was finally lost and consumed, feeling cold that all this pain never ended like he knew. He sank, as his killers disappeared like nothing.