Aglaope’s mind drifted, and the present moment blurred, her thoughts pulled back to a time long ago, when she was still a child. She could almost see herself again, sitting on the smooth rocks by the shore, the salt air filling her lungs as she watched her baby sister, Thelxiepe, playing in the surf.

Aglaope remembered how her heart swelled with both pride and protectiveness as Thelxiepe, barely old enough to speak in full sentences, laughed and splashed in the shallows.

Her mother, Euterpe, had been sitting beside her, humming softly to herself as she watched the two of them. Aglaope could still remember the soft glow of her mother’s skin, her belly round and heavy with child. Aglaope glanced at her mother, a slight frown furrowing her brow as she asked, “Are you sure the new baby is a boy?”

Euterpe laughed, a light, melodic sound that seemed to blend with the whispers of the sea. She placed a hand gently on her rounded belly. “Oh, I’m quite sure, my dear.”

Aglaope pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Boys are naughty.”

Euterpe raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “And why do you think that?”

“Because Daddy is naughty,” Aglaope replied, a matter-of-fact tone in her voice.

Euterpe laughed again, her gaze softening. “Well, then it will be up to you and Thelxiepe to make sure your baby brother behaves better than Daddy.”

Aglaope blinked, shaking off the memories as the present rushed back into focus. Thelxiepe’s gentle voice pulled her from the past.

“The others have arrived,” Thelxiepe said softly.

Aglaope turned to face her sisters: Corilato, Arrieciane, Parthenope, Molpe, Peisinoe, Thlaspi, Lapham, Pisinoe, Himerope, and Rhaemisia.

“Where are Amydella and Avanah?” she asked.

Rhaemisia stepped forward. “It’s Soter Day. They’re likely in worship.”

Pisinoe tilted her head thoughtfully. “Should I go fetch them?”

Aglaope shook her head. “No, leave them to their devotion. They’ll join us when they’re ready.”

Molpe’s gaze swept over the gathering, her lips pressing into a thin line as she noted a few absent faces. “Raidne, Teles, Leucosi, and Ligeia aren’t here. Is that on purpose?”

Aglaope’s expression hardened slightly, though her tone remained even. “Yes, it is.”

Corilato glanced toward the horizon, her gaze distant and contemplative. “Their absence, combined with the sudden shift in the waves... it’s no coincidence,” she said, her voice edged with unease. “It feels as though our visions are coming to pass.”

Aglaope’s tone was resolute as she spoke, her gaze fixed on the western edge of the island. “Corilato is right. Someone—or something—is coming to us from the west.”

Turning her gaze to Corilato, Arrieciane, Parthenope, and Molpe, Aglaope’s voice was calm but commanding. “ Take to the skies and see if you can spot anything coming from the west. We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

The four sisters exchanged brief glances before nodding. Without hesitation, they unfurled their wings, shimmering feathers catching the light as they rose into the air. Their forms grew smaller as they ascended, heading toward the horizon, scanning the ocean for any sign of what lay ahead.

Aglaope then turned her attention to Peisinoe, Thlaspi, Lapham, and Pisinoe. “You four, take to the sea. Swim out and watch for anything unusual. Let the currents guide you, but don’t venture too far from the island.”

One by one, they moved to the shore, the sound of their footsteps blending with the rhythm of the waves. As they reached the water, they dove gracefully into the surf, their sleek forms cutting through the sea like shadows.

Aglaope watched them disappear into the blue depths, their movements fluid and synchronized. A flicker of reassurance stirred within her; the sea was their domain, and few were better equipped to navigate its mysteries.

Turning back to the remaining sisters, Aglaope steadied her voice, her eyes filled with resolve. “The rest of us will head into the jungle. Whatever is coming, I want to meet it face to face.”

As Harahel and Gadriel made their way through the jungle, the dense underbrush resisted their progress, with vines snagging their ankles and branches tearing at their clothes. The jungle was unlike anything Harahel had ever seen. The air was thick and humid, filled with the scent of unfamiliar blossoms and the hum of unseen insects. Strange, glowing fungi sprouted from the bases of trees, casting an eerie blue light that seemed to warp the shadows around them.

Gadriel let out an exasperated sigh, pushing aside a low-hanging branch. "When most mothers visit their daughters, they're greeted with a loving hug, a hot meal, and adorable grandchildren," she grumbled. She swatted at a buzzing insect that had landed on her arm.

Harahel bit back a smile, stepping carefully over a tangle of roots. Gadriel continued, her voice laced with growing irritation. "And most importantly," she added, shoving another branch out of the way, "there is a clear road to get them there."

Harahel chuckled softly. "Our daughters were never ones to take the easy path."

Suddenly, the jungle seemed to open before them, revealing a vast clearing where the scent of incense lingered in the air. At its center stood a solemn sight—a memorial, built from stone and coral, its surface etched with intricate carvings. The figures of warriors locked in an eternal dance adorned the monolith, their movements captured in frozen relief. Around its base, the moonlight cast shadows that made the warriors seem as if they still moved.

Harahel took a slow step forward, her breath catching in her throat. "They built this for them," she whispered, her voice tinged with both sorrow and pride.

Gadriel approached cautiously, her fingers grazing the stone, tracing the etched faces with reverence. "The Sirens always looked after their baby brothers," she said. "Even in death."

Scattered around the memorial were small offerings. The soft echo of a distant melody drifted through the clearing, as if the Sirens' voices still lingered in the air, carrying the echoes of their deepest grief, mourning their lost kin.

Harahel knelt before the monument, her fingers brushing the damp earth. She could feel the weight of her past pressing against her—Polyhymnia’s solemnity, Euterpe’s sorrow, Thalia’s lost laughter.

Gadriel crossed her arms, exhaling slowly, trying her best not to let her cold and calm exterior give way and reveal the grief she felt inside.

The jungle around them had gone eerily quiet, as if nature itself paused in reverence. Harahel closed her eyes, letting the moment settle deep within her chest.

There, in her mind’s eye, she saw them—nine men dancing in a circle, their movements an electrifying blend of precision and chaos. The Korybantes.

Each dancer wore gleaming armor—helmets adorned with crests, breastplates catching the torchlight, and greaves that clanged with every step. They wielded swords and shields, their strikes synchronized with the rhythm of the drums and the sharp notes of a flute. Every clash of metal echoed through the air, mingling with the hypnotic cadence of cymbals.

The dance was a tempest of energy. The Korybantes leaped and spun with astonishing agility, their feet stomping the earth in a percussive roar. High kicks and sudden lunges gave the impression of a battlefield brought to life, each movement teetering on the edge of control. Shields clashed with swords in choreographed chaos, the metallic din both captivating and unsettling.

As the tempo quickened, the dancers’ movements became frenzied, their twirls and lunges blending into a whirlwind of sound and motion. Occasionally, one would break away from the circle, performing a dazzling solo of spins and strikes before rejoining the group. The circle itself spiraled inward and outward, a pulsating display that seemed to echo the cycles of the cosmos.

Harahel's gaze swept over the dancers, and her breath caught as she recognized her three sons among them. Arun, tall and lithe, moved with a grace that mirrored his mother Polyhymnia’s elegance, his every spin a fluid expression of rhythm. Syn, with his wild, untamed energy, danced in sharp, sudden movements, his sword flashing as he cut through the air, his fiery spirit a reflection of his mother Thalia’s passion. And Cailu, his steps a bit more measured but no less intense, wielded his shield like a second skin, his form strikingly similar to his mother Euterpe, embodying both the joy and the solemnity of their lineage.

Harahel felt a lump rise in her throat, her body frozen in place. A part of her longed to step forward, to reach out and touch the spectral vision, but she knew it would shatter like mist before her hands could grasp it. Tears welled in her eyes, the ache of loss settling deep within her bones.

A firm hand touched her shoulder, grounding her in the present. Gadriel's voice was steady but tinged with quiet sorrow. "We must find our daughters first, Harahel," she said softly. "Then we can grieve for our sons."

Harahel exhaled shakily, closing her eyes for a moment before nodding. With one last glance at the memorial, she turned away, steeling herself for the journey ahead. The jungle loomed once more, dark and unyielding, but now, they carried the echoes of their past with them, pushing them forward into the unknown.

Teles followed her sister as they made their way through the tangled jungle paths, the vibrant calls of unseen birds and the rustling of leaves filling the humid air.

“What makes you so sure we can follow them?” Teles asked, her tone skeptical.

Raidne shot her an impish grin over her shoulder. “Oh, I have my ways.”

Teles narrowed her eyes. “Raidne...”

“Well,” Raidne said, drawing the word out teasingly, “let’s just say our dear sister Leucosia isn’t quite as observant as she thinks she is.”

Teles stopped in her tracks, realization dawning. “You didn’t—”

“I did,” Raidne said, not bothering to hide her satisfaction. She pulled a small charm from her pocket, a faintly glowing trinket etched with swirling runes.

Teles groaned. “You managed to slip a location charm on her? Without her noticing?”

Raidne spun the charm between her fingers with a smug grin. “What can I say? She was too busy fuming to pay attention. And honestly, her dramatic storming-off routine makes it far too easy to stay one step ahead.”

Teles shook her head in disbelief. “You’re impossible.”

“Thank you,” Raidne replied with mock humility, pressing the charm lightly. The faint glow brightened, pointing toward the direction Leucosia and Ligeia had taken.

Teles sighed, falling in step beside her sister. “You know this is going to blow up in our faces when she finds out, right?”

“Probably,” Raidne admitted with a laugh. “But by then, we’ll already know what she’s up to. And isn’t that worth a little drama?”

Teles gave her a sidelong glance, unable to suppress a small smile. “You really are your mother’s daughter.”

“And proud of it,” Raidne said, flashing a grin.

The two continued deeper into the jungle, the charm glowing steadily in Raidne’s hand, guiding them toward whatever scheme Leucosia and Ligeia were planning.

The jungle grew darker as Raidne and Teles followed the faint glow of the charm. The thick canopy above allowed only slivers of moonlight to seep through, casting eerie shadows across the underbrush. Each step seemed louder in the stillness of the night, but Raidne’s confidence never wavered as she led the way.

Finally, the dense foliage opened up to reveal the cave’s mouth. The jagged rock loomed before them, its entrance shrouded in an unnatural stillness. Raidne and Teles crept closer to the cave entrance, staying hidden among the thick underbrush. The faint glow of Raidne’s charm had guided them here, but now it dimmed, as if wary of what lay ahead.

The sound of footsteps echoed faintly from the cavern’s depths. Raidne held up a hand, signaling Teles to stop. A moment later, the imposing figures of Leucosia and Ligeia emerged, their forms framed by the pale moonlight spilling over the jagged rocks.

Leucosia suddenly paused, her gaze snapping to a patch of shadows near the cave’s entrance. “We’re not alone,” she said quietly, her voice cutting through the stillness like a blade.

Raidne froze, her grin vanishing as her eyes met Teles’s. “Oops,” she mouthed silently.

Ligeia stepped forward, her sharp eyes scanning the darkness. “If someone’s foolish enough to follow us, they should show themselves now. It would be unwise to test our patience.”

Raidne sighed and stepped out from the underbrush, her hands raised in mock surrender. “You caught us,” she said, flashing an unapologetic smile. “But really, Leucosia, you make it far too easy.”

Leucosia’s expression darkened, her voice sharp as a whip. “Raidne. Of course. Only you would be reckless enough to meddle in matters that don’t concern you.”

Teles followed reluctantly, her expression more cautious. “We weren’t meddling,” she said, though her tone lacked conviction. “We just thought—”

“Thought what?” Ligeia interjected. “That you’d spy on us and learn something to use against us later?”

Raidne shrugged nonchalantly. “Something like that,” she said, her grin returning. “But honestly, I just wanted to see what had you two so wound up. It’s rare to see Leucosia in such a foul mood, even for her.”

Leucosia took a step forward, her presence imposing despite her calm demeanor. “Turn back,” she said, her voice low and icy. “This is your only warning. Whatever schemes you’re cooking up will not end well for you.”

Raidne tilted her head, her smile unwavering. “And what if I don’t? Are you going to chase us off like a pair of unruly gulls?”

Ligeia’s patience snapped. “You have no idea what you’re meddling with, Raidne,” she said, her voice sharp and cutting. “This isn’t some petty squabble or game of wits. There are forces at work here far beyond your understanding.”

Raidne’s grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of genuine curiosity. “Oh? Now you’ve piqued my interest.”

Before Leucosia or Ligeia could retort, a sharp crack echoed through the jungle, followed by the sound of crunching leaves. All four women turned toward the source of the noise, their gazes snapping to the thick undergrowth near the cave’s edge.

A moment later, a man stepped into the clearing. His clothing was a patchwork of worn leather

Leucosia’s gaze flicked over the stranger, her posture tense as she studied him. “Who are you?” she demanded.

The man straightened slowly, his weathered face breaking into a crooked grin. “The name is Finnegan”