The water continued to lap at the siren mare’s ankles. It was a quiet day. The water was relatively still. The gulls were quiet. The beach was empty. But when her flesh met the sea, something had been awakened. The malcontent was carried out to sea with the tide and shuffled away on whirling currents. Feeling travels just as quickly as light or sound through the teal blue waves and invisible currents beneath.

And the souls of the departed heard the voice of one of their own. One who clearly needed guidance and suffered in the absence of her sisters. So the decision was made.

On the beach nothing changed quickly. All this had happened beneath the waves in mere moments. The waves continued the rhythmic pulse against the shore; against the siren-mare’s ankles.

…until the water began to pull away from the shore. First ten feet. Then twenty. Continuing back and back until the sea was hundreds of feet back from the beach. The damp seafloor lay exposed the beating rays of the sun - sea creatures of all kinds lay vulnerable and exposed. And then it came rumbling back – sounding like a mixture of crashing water and thundering hoofbeats against the exposed seafloor. The water returned all at once in a wave with three distinct crests – a strange sight for any wave, much less one of this size rushing back towards the shore.

But slowly the crests of the wave turned into crests of a different kind – crests of necks of creatures born from the sea. Sirens just like Syrena that had long since returned to the water that called them home. The water around them took shape and began to form solid legs, a discernable body, manes and tails made of seafoam, and even the fins that set them apart were discernable even though their bodies were made entirely of water.

The sea rushed back over the beach, leaving the three watery souls standing in front of the living, breathing siren. They shimmered in the bright light, casting strange patterns on the sand. They did not step out of the water completely, for they could not survive on land. They were one with the sea now. They were departed souls, but the dead were never considered lost souls. No, the dead remained behind for the very purpose of guiding the truly lost souls that remained living.

Syrena would know why they had come.

But they spoke nonetheless.

“Sister,” the first of the trio spoke, in a voice that sounded so much like the ocean waves from which the figures had just emerged. “What troubles you?”

And with that the trio fall silent and wait for the lost one to speak.