Chapter 2

Far away from the existence of Humanity, there is a large tower that extends all of the way into the Light World and plunges deep into the Dark World. It rests in the cosmos where its occupants can see all of Humanity, but still keep an eye on what’s going on upstairs or down below. Large and bright, it is truly a breathtaking ivory tower. Inside, its winding stairs (which few rarely use unless they need time to stall before meetings) connects to lavish, gilded meeting rooms with bright tapestries and drapes of bold colours. The top most of the tower is the home of Alexandros, the head of the Sirens. Even his daughters are not allowed to enter this area. Instead, any business that they wish to take up with their father is conducted in many of the meeting rooms. The largest of which is the Opal Room. Named after its shimmering mantles and hearths, it’s decorated in deep blue accents with lecture hall seating as opposed to all of the other rooms that favor a traditional board-style room.

It was in this room that the meeting was held to determine the fate of all humanity.

As Telese walked into the room with Morgan, she tried to steady her heart. Perhaps her father would let the diplomats speak. Perhaps he would listen to her pleas and consider them. This, however, would only happen if he was feeling generous. Very generous. Alexandros was not known for his interest in democracy. If he wanted something to happen, it would happen.

 Telese greeted a few of her sisters as she felt Morgan grab her hand and squeeze for a moment. The older siren walked off to join the other warriors and Telese found a seat in the front and middle of the room"the spot reserved for the lead diplomat. Next to her, her sister, Layla, took her seat as the lead healer.

 Layla was bound to Palestine, just as Telese was bound to America and Morgan was bound to Ireland. Each siren was connected to a place in the world that would determine the characteristics the people around them would see. They could blend into the society and work with humans without being singled out by them. Layla had a dark olive complexion, with long black hair tied tightly against her head usually. Her round brown eyes often belayed her kind, compassionate nature. She loved the colour blue, and her clothes"usually tunics or long, flowing shirts"were often various shades of navy, teal, seafoam or indigo. She was soft spoken as a rule, but in times of conflict, she could be one of the fiercest adversaries that anybody could be pitted against.

“I don’t feel right about this, Telese,” she said in her heavy Middle-Eastern accent, looking down at some paperwork. “You know, illness and malnutrition is up forty-five percent since the sixties, even though income is up even higher.”

“I know,” Telese said, not making eye contact with her sister. “The resources aren’t getting to the rest of the population. It looks like a handful are hoarding it.”

“It’s those ruddy minions and their pacts,” an Australian voice said next to her. She turned to see Roxy, the lead warrior, slam her paperwork and her heavy, gilded blade in front of her. Though thin and short, Roxias was well known for her loud and ostentatious personality. She took her look from one of the aboriginal peoples of Australia that she had respected and admired for their strength and integrity in the face of oppression and colonization. She had curly black hair and brown eyes, and was usually dressed in red and black.

“Roxy, why do you insist on carrying your blade everywhere?” Telese asked, eyeing the siren blade nervously.

“Oh, yeah, lot of good it is for you to be afraid, Nikki” Roxy said, sitting down. She had not called Telese by her name since Niccolo Machiavelli wrote “The Prince” and Roxy decided it had to be written about all of Telese’s political methods and ideologies. “It’s not like it’s Father’s blade or anything. It can’t kill you.”

“It’d still be really unpleasant to be stabbed with while you’re flailing around in a rage.”

“I’m sick of these stupid Dark Lords causing so much trouble because they think the world is their playground!” Roxy said. “I mean, I know you guys have spoken to them a million times.”

“In the last century alone, yes,” Telese agreed.

Layla glanced over at her. “Who has taken over now that Oren is dead?”

Telese grimaced a little. “Mortimer,” she said.

Layla and Roxy gave a simultaneous “Egh,”  and sneered.

“Could they have got anybody slimier?” Roxy asked.

“Or more obnoxious?” Layla asked. “I’ll bet he loves to try to hold ‘meetings’ with the diplomats. Has he offered to fulfill your every dream yet, Telese?”

“Just tonight, in fact,” Telese answered, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I hate his voice. I hate his voice so much. And I swear, if he calls me ‘Tilly’ one more time"“

At that moment the room went silent. In had just entered a tall, broad-shouldered man with grey-streaked black hair and silver eyes. He wore a black blazer over a white collared shirt and black pants. He seemed like any business executive coming in for a meeting.

Alexandros Zalabraxias. Telese held her breath, as though breathing would call his attention to her. She tried to keep her mind totally blank, lest her expression give away the strange mixture of fear and contempt inside of her.

He watched the room silently. Between Telese’s sisters and nieces, over seven hundred people sat in the hall, and every single one of them seemed blanketed in her own uncomfortable silence. Layla shuffled her shoulders nervously and Roxy fidgeted with her blade.

“Everybody here knows her job,” he began with his Greek accent. “It isn’t hard. The Warriors are supposed to encourage and protect the righteous humans in times of battle. They are not to let the balance sway in favour of light or dark.”

He turned his gaze in the direction of the three leadership holders. “Roxias, would you care to explain why militaries that are tainted by the Dark World are successful far more often than Light World’s interests?”

Roxy looked toward the wall behind Alexandros. “We tried, Father, but the speed which cities fell and military became influenced overwhelmed us, and"“

“Overwhelmed you, Roxias?” he interrupted. She fell silent. “You are the leader of the fiercest of creatures walking the face of this earth, and some Dark Lords and their human puppets overwhelmed you?” He shifted his gaze toward Layla. “But perhaps the fact that civilisations fell to the Dark World is not entirely due to your ineptitude, Roxias. Perhaps civilisations fell because they suffered for so long with no alternative. Lisalia, what about you? Why did so much suffering go on in these places for so long?”

Layla looked down at the desk in front of her. “W-We did make every effort to heal them, Father, but it seemed while one would become better, then another would require out efforts and we were so short on people"“

“Pathetic,” Alexandros cut her off. Layla, like Roxy, fell silent, not daring to lift her eyes. “Excuses, none of them acceptable. And what about you, Telese? Why didn’t the Dark World feel reprimand when they violated the conditions that you laid out?”

Telese felt her heart flutter unpleasantly as her lungs struggled to keep taking air. She knew that her sisters beside her and every diplomat were waiting for her answer and it had to be fair for all of them. She cleared her throat and, like Roxy, looked straight ahead.

“We made major strides, Father, and I feel myself and the other diplomats have worked with great success given the major population boom.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. If your method of diplomacy is to avoid the question completely, I can see why you were doomed to fail. I will ask you again, Telese. Why was there no reprimand for the Dark World?”

“We did all that we were able"“

“Why did you feel as though taking their word was good enough and that you could turn the other way instead of extract justice?”

“We have limited options when dealing with diplomacy defaults.”

“Are you really so lazy that it seemed better to let the world go asunder than actually put forth some effort into doing your job?”

Something inside Telese snapped. Her heart steadied it beating, becoming so strong that she could hear the rushing blood in her ears. Her thoughts were drowned out by a fog of whispered incantations that danced on her tongue, begging her to utter them. She closed her eyes slowly, singling them out and silencing them, one by one.

 After she regained her composure, she looked her father in the eye with what felt like complete rebelliousness. It must have been, because even Alexandros took a step back in surprise.

“We put forth every effort afforded to us, Sir. However, you are the one that asked us"no, ordered us"to use no force. You are the one that limited our options. Perhaps you would like to sit down with the diplomats and restructure how much power we have in diplomatic situations? Or was I supposed to add ‘pretty please’ to make the Dark World care about what I have to say when we all know that the diplomats are nothing more than a hollow scare tactic at best in these sort of situations?”

Though the room was already silent, it seemed as though every breath and heartbeat stopped completely. Telese could feel the dark rage trying to creep to the surface of her thoughts. She felt as though her entire spirit were slowly glowing and warming, waiting to burst into an all-consuming flame.

“You won’t have to concern yourself with that right now, Telese,” Alexandros said after a moment, regaining his composure. “All diplomatic efforts are officially terminated immediately. Healers will assist those societies I have chosen, and warriors will continue work as usual"“

“You can’t do that!” Telese blurted out.

Once again, the death-like quiet took hold of the room and Alexandros turned to her with surprise. “Telese, you’ve said all that you need to. You’re right to speak is no longer recognized.”

Instead of remaining quiet, Telese stood from her chair, never diverting her eyes from his. Layla and Roxy backed away from her a little, as though fearing some sort of retaliation from her father would strike them as well. Judging by the shock and rage crossing Alexandros’s face, it was entirely possible.

“If you go through with this,” she said in a voice that surprised even her in its steadiness, “if you take out the diplomats and make a drastic cut in the healers, the majority of the world’s humans will die, and with them, the Dark World and the Light World will be weakened.”

Alexandros considered her for a moment, and then spoke slowly.

“You need to sit down and take your place silently, Telese, if you know what is good for you.”

“Which is whatever you say is good for me,” she said in an insolent tone. “Am I right?”

For a moment, Alexandros seemed lost. Even a little scared. Telese could hear Mortimer’s drawling voice in her ear, as though he was standing right next to her.

But I heard that the scope of your powers was unmatched.

“You will sit back down, Telese….”

Even Alexandros himself couldn't compare….

“…you will remain silent for the rest of this meeting….”

…which worried him, I'm sure.

“…and you and I will have a talk afterward about your behavior in a professional setting.”

Telese took her seat again slowly, never taking her eyes off of her father’s. The rage was giving way to the beginnings of fear. There would be no way of avoiding whatever punishment he had planned for her.

Alexandros looked around the room. “You’ve all dropped the ball. You have been far too lax on your attention to details and your responsibilities. If I were cruel, I would wipe you all out and start anew.”

He paused as he let his daughters and granddaughters shift uncomfortably. “I would do this, but I am willing to give you all another chance. You will all do as I say. If you cooperate, we will see a balanced society flourish. Failing to do so will not only be the end of humans, but the end of the Sirens, as well.’

He let the last sentence hover over them. “Are there any more questions?” he asked. Though the question was put out to all Sirens, his eyes fell on Telese’s.

Telese and her sisters stayed silent. Alexandros glanced around the room. “Very well. You are all dismissed. Telese, I would appreciate it if you would stay behind a moment so that we might address your concerns.”

As they left with the others, Roxy and Layla gave her a worried look. Just behind them, Morgan glanced from her to their father, as though trying to think of something to say that would help her little sister. Telese nodded toward the door. The sooner everybody was gone, the sooner this would be over.

As soon as the room was empty, Telese stood from her seat and walked to where her father was standing with his back to her. She tried to keep her steps steady and confident, though her legs were shaking.

“So,” she said, trying to sound as blasé as possible. “How do you want to do this this time? Burning? Salt-in-wounds? Maybe another stint in the correction rooms while you let humanit"“

Suddenly her voice caught in her throat and she couldn’t breathe. It felt as though she were drowning. She reached for her throat, but her fingers and toes began to burn a little more each second until it felt like she had her feet and hands placed in the middle of the hottest fire and burned the skin of wherever she touched. In her abdomen, there was a pain; dull at first, it started to grow in range and sharpness until it felt as though every organ was being shredded with a rake and then ripped from its place in her body. Through it all, she couldn’t scream, there was no release of pain that was building in her body. She felt tears fall from her eyes and, like acid, burn her cheeks raw. Even crying offered no reprieve.

Alexandros turned now to face her, and through the blur of her tears, she saw his eyes glowing like illuminated ice. “Now, as you appreciate the bare minimum of my power over every bit of your existence,” he said calmly as Telese struggled to keep to her feet, “let’s clear something up.”

He kneeled down as her legs finally gave way. “I am very tired of having to reprimand you, Telese. You’ve been nothing but a mouthy, questioning little brat since you could talk. I feel,” he said, ignoring her choking gasps for air, “that I have been extremely generous to you. Not only have I allowed you to continue working as the lead diplomat, but I have allowed you to continue living.” He reached over and grasped her chin in his hand, digging his fingers into her cheeks until it drew blood under his nails. “If you do not shape up, this generosity will end. Do I make myself clear?”

Telese tried to answer, but she couldn’t get any sound out aside from a gasp.

“I require an answer, Telese,” her father informed her, as though the lack of answer was entirely her choice. “Otherwise we can sit like this all night. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Through her pain, Telese managed a short, affirmative nod. He let her go and gave her cheek a sharp, back-handed slap. She fell backward and landed on her side. At once, all of the pain stopped and she could breathe again. Gasping loudly for air, she wrapped her arms around her body, still sore from her punishment.

Her father stood to his feet again and walked away from her. “I have a new assignment for you. A search and recovery of sorts.” He turned to face her again as she struggled to her feet. “I’ve lost an important book. I’m afraid it’s in the hands of humans. I need it back, and you are to find it.”

“A book? Where is it?” she asked hoarsely.

Alexandros sneered. “If I knew where it was, I wouldn’t have you search for it, would I?” He turned away from her. “I believe it may be amongst the humans, and that is all I know. You’re to find out who has it, if anybody has been reading it, and if there are any plans to use anything from it. Then you’re to dispose of those that have laid eyes on it and bring it back to me.”

Telese was perturbed. She had been saving the world from total annihilation since the dawn of humanity, and now she was being told to find some lost property? It was insulting. “What is so important about this? What is in the book?”

Alexandros didn’t turn to look at her. He didn’t give her much more regard. He just tossed one word over his shoulder in a tone that suggested that the conversation was over and her job had begun.

“Everything.”

 

***

 

Eric was laying on his bed, studying the book from the antique shop. Occasionally, he would stop, draw a symbol on a post-it note, take a picture with his phone and post it to an online community for others to identify for him. There was never a definite answer, saying “this is clearly a suchandsuch from suchandsuch language,” but he would often get the name of a letter that sort of resembled it. He would then write the symbol in a little black notebook by his side with the name of the equivalents and their sounds. Soon, he noticed certain sounds within words that seemed to resemble words from other languages. Van was lying on his own bed, reading through a math book. Sometimes it seemed he read through math books for entertainment and not for information.

 “You know, you’ve really been putting your nose to the grindstone with that book,” he told Eric. “I mean, seriously. You only look away from it to do your homework. You’ve single-handedly killed what little social life you had before. I’m proud of you, buddy.”

“I’m getting somewhere with it,” Eric said, not looking up. “There are literally no hits on any of these letters. It’s like a language that predates all other languages.”

Van shrugged, flipping a page in his book. “Or one somebody made up. Maybe it was somebody’s idea of a joke.”

“If it was, then they have some mad props owed to them for infusing Sumerian, Greek and Hebrew together. And that’s just what I’ve been to identify so far.”

Van snapped his book closed. “Why don’t we go grab some food and a beer real quick. You need to get out and get away from that stupid book. Anyway,” he said as he stood and stretched. “Good to look at things with fresh eyes, right?”

Eric finally tore his eyes away from the book and toward Van. Once he thought about it, he realized he was really hungry. “Rooster’s?”

Van raised an eyebrow. “Where else?”

Eric stood up and put the book and his notes on his pillow. He grabbed his coat and his wallet. “I never thought I would be happy about crappy wings until I started college.”

The boys left the dorm, and for once, Eric forgot about the book. Instead, on their walk to the little pub, they talked about classes and songs and T.V shows like they had since they knew each other. Eric had to admit that he didn’t catch how caged up he felt with the book until now.

Rooster’s Brews was a small pub just six blocks from campus. It was not known for its incredible food or great surroundings. The place was decorated in the 70s and never touched since, with thin wood paneling and cheap paint jobs that were typical of that time. All over the walls hung the usual promotional memorabilia from different brewers and vendors. But it was the cheapest place to eat in the area, and most of all, it was a place to be surrounded by people and still be alone with your friends. Nobody really spoke to anybody out of their circle at the bar and it offered a certain privacy that most of the bars filled with college students hellbent on making friends and contacts couldn’t promise.

As they sat in a booth, a tired looking waitress with beer and grease stains all over her shirt and apron. “Hello, boys,” said said, setting some paper coasters in front of them. “The usual?”

“Yep,” Van said. “And a Yuengling and a cider.”

She nodded and walked off. Eric smirked. “Familiarity is always good.”

Van fidgeted with his coaster a little. “Is it?”

He looked around and then across the table to Eric. “Do you ever wonder what you’re going to do after college? Are you going to go into graduate school, work for the government, travel . . . what?”

Eric shrugged. “I could teach piano while I decide for a little while.”

“That sounds both exciting and lucrative. Have you thought about doing something just . . . really out there? You know, like getting a job in Sweden or something for a year, and then traveling to the next country? Throw a dart at a map and go from there?”

“Seriously?” Eric scoffed. “No. I like to have direction. I mean, realistically, that would be nothing but stress and struggle and more stress. Anyway, I don’t know Swedish.”

“Oh, yeah,” Van said, sitting up a little as the waitress brought their drinks. “Because you wouldn’t be able to learn that on the plane there. After all, you’re only translating something that doesn’t actually exist in any time period, according to you.”

Eric thought about it for a moment as the waitress set a plate of wings down in front of him and a cheeseburger and fries in front of Van. Everything in Eric’s life had always been so carefully planned. Every decision had a lot of research and preparation behind it. There had never been any surprise road trips or travel. He had spent a couple of years working in Spain for a small English-to-Spanish book translation company, but even that had been discussed thoroughly with his parents and family at home. And it wasn’t like he went exploring. He stayed in his own flat, spoke only to people at work, and occasionally got a beer in the afternoons with coworkers at a bar near his flat.

But he didn’t think that was a bad thing. Familiarity was comfort. There was nothing wrong with familiarity.

‘What do you think is out there, Van?” Eric asked matter-of-factly. “All of those crazy adventures aren’t real, and if they were, would you really want them? How many stories like that have heroes putting their whole life on hold for these adventures just to come home and be restless with their former lives? You never hear about how the hero is content to just pick up and resume after some great adventure.”

“So?” Van said.

“So,” Eric responded, taking a bite of chicken wing and swallowing. “So, I don’t want to live the remainder of my life either being restless back here in the states or chasing the thrill of a new country and experience. There are only so many countries in the world, Van. After a while, you just have no choice other than to be content with what you have.”

Van shook his head and looked down at his burger. “Yeah, I don’t know about that. Countries change. Everything changes. There’s always a new way to look at things.”

Eric took another bite into a new chicken wing quietly. The conversation seemed to drop right there.

Three hours, four drinks each and nearly his entire plate of chicken wings later, Eric stretched and yawned. “It’s almost closing time, you know. Maybe we should head back?”

Van waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, you go ahead. I’m going to sit here for a little bit.”

“Okay,” Eric said shrugging. Van had those rare moments that he liked to be by himself with his thoughts, and Eric never really pressed it. Instead, he stood up and reached for his wallet.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it.” Van said.

“What? Look how much we drank. That bill is going to be, like, a million dollars.”

“I got it, I said,” Van repeated insistently. “You got the pizza last time, remember?”

Eric sighed. “Okay, then. I’ll see you back at the room.”

Van nodded and pulled out his phone.

Walking back to the dorm, Eric thought about what Van had said. It was true that Eric hated to deviate from his path. He liked working on a clear goal, knowing exactly where he was going, and taking minimal risks.

But he couldn’t lie, Van’s suggestion had appeal. What exactly was he missing, never taking risks? Was there really some crazy experience he would find if he just deviated a little?

He swiped his ID at the building and walked inside, taking the elevator to his room.

Eric paused as he stood in front of his door. Someday, maybe, he would deviate. However, now was not the time"especially with all of the homework he still had to do. He sighed and walked into the dorm.

“This is a really nice set up for a dorm,” a female voice said from the darkness. Eric froze. He had not had anybody break into his dorm room the entire time he had been at school, but the internet was full of horror stories about it. He was stuck in his steps and he couldn’t decide whether to turn on the light or run out of the room.

“Allow me,” the voice said. It muttered a strange word and the light switch flipped on beside him.

Across the room, lying on his bed was a woman who looked about the same age as him, with long, curly, auburn hair and green eyes. And she was reading his book in what had just been complete and total darkness.

“What are you doing in my room?” he asked. He had never seen her before. Was she insane? Would she kill him? He scanned the room for potential defense items, just in case.

She shrugged. “Starting with the obvious questions, I see. I was looking for this,” she said, waving the book. “Do you know what this is?”

“Who are you?” Eric asked her, ignoring her question.  Definitely crazy.

“I’m Telese. Now, back to more important things, do you know what this is?”

“I’m not talking to some psycho that trespassed into my room. You need to leave before I call security.”

“Trespassed?” Telese asked, turning her head to look at him. “I don’t trespass. It’s hard to do so when you’re entitled to go wherever you so please. Anyway,” she said looking back down at the book, “explain to your security guards that a woman is in your room lying in your bed and I’m sure ‘trespass’ isn’t what they will call it, being that they saw no woman go into your all boys’ dorm. And then to get into your room without a key, and no forcible entry suggested?” She looked back up at him, sitting up now. “Please. Definitely sounds sketchy.”

Eric began feeling a sick sense of foreboding. This woman was either delusional or a ninja. Either way, both would kill him without a second thought.

“So if they didn’t see you, how did you get in?” he asked her.

She tilted her head a little. “Would you believe magic?”

“Not for a second.”

She nodded. “Ah. So I didn’t turn that light switch on from across the room.”

“It proves you’ve . . . you’ve bugged my room or something. It doesn’t prove magic. Magic doesn’t exist. It’s absolutely impossible.”

Telese slowly put the book down and pointed to the mini-fridge in their room. “Walabu Akalum.”

Eric watched as the fridge opened slowly. It stayed open for a few seconds, and then"slowly"out of it came one of Van’s peanut butter chocolate cupcakes. Telese kept pointing at the cupcake and it seemed to be making a line for her finger. Eric noticed that the irises of her eyes seemed to glow a much brighter green.

He walked over to where the cupcake was creeping through the room mid-air. He waved his hands behind and in front of his path. No wires. And her eyes. There was no way he knew of to make them suddenly glow like that.

As the cupcake made its way to her hand, Eric placed his hand against the wall. He suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous. Telese took a bite of the cupcake as he wiped his brow.

Telese considered him for a moment, then she stood up, holding the book in front of her with one hand and the cupcake in the other. “Krat’imha Eli Balneph Im’iri Idu Mitavet. Do you know what this means?”

Eric knew it was the line he had been studying. “I don’t really know,” he confessed, his voice a little weaker. “The language doesn’t sound like any I’ve heard. Some of the roots, though . . . ‘Krat’ is almost ancient Greek for ‘Strong’, ‘Mitavet’ might be a mixture of Sumerian and Hebrew words for ‘Dead’, but it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t seem to be completely any one language.”

                     “He shall strike with strength, and the dead will outnumber the living.”

                    Eric was completely at a loss. Telese waited for him to cross the room and sit down on his bed. She took a seat on his roommate’s bed.

                    “Have you ever heard of Sirens?” she asked, finishing the cupcake and throwing the wrapper in the wastebasket. “Not the ambulance kind. The people kind.”

                    Eric nodded, still in a daze. “Yeah, the ancient Greek creatures that sang soldiers to their death.”

                    Telese scoffed. “That’s a bit unfair, really. We spoke to them in this language, and most couldn’t handle it.”

                    Eric now looked at her with utter confusion. She blinked at him. “It’s called Sireeni,” she told him. “Despite the ostentatious writing, we like to keep things simple.”

                    “Hold on, hold on,” Eric said, holding his hand up. Telese fell silent while he gathered his thoughts. “You’re saying you’re a Siren. Those singing, crazy bird things.”

                    Telese sat up sharply, offended. “We are not crazy. And we aren’t bird things. We have wings, I mean. But that doesn’t necessarily"“

                    “Whoa, whoa . . . you have wings?”

                    Telese rolled her eyes. “Yes, we do,” she said. Upon his inquisitive look, she narrowed her eyes. “No, you can’t. We’re technically not allowed to show humans our wings. Sometimes they can’t deal with it and try to stab us or something. Not that that’s really worrisome, because you can’t kill me, but then I have to restrain you and you might end up dead, and then there’s this whole paperwork fiasco that I have to deal with….”

                    “Okay, you seriously need to leave. I’m getting tired of entertaining"“

                    Eric fell silent as Van entered. He stopped in his tracks and stared at Telese with a look of pure terror.

                    Telese’s eyes brightened and she stood up. “Vangelicus! So this is how you’ve been hiding out. College.”

                    Van screamed.

                    “What? Van, what’s going on?”

                    “I swear, Telese, I didn’t give him the book, I told him not to buy it, didn’t I, Eric? Eric, tell her I told you to put it back.”

                    Eric watched his friend cautiously. “Van, what are you"“

                    “TELL HER I TOLD YOU TO PUT IT BACK, ERIC!”

                    Telese held up her hand. “Relax, Vangelicus, I’m not here to punish you.”

                    Van watched her suspiciously. “You aren’t?”

                Telese shook her head. She stood up, walked around the room, reading the book to herself for a moment. Without looking at the men and without slowing her pace, she finally addressed them.

                    “How familiar with Sumerian are you, Mr. Fennigan?”

                    “It’s Fennington,” Eric corrected. “I don’t really know it. I just isolated some roots from those words and researched them. That was a language that came up.”

                    Telese now looked at him, as though intrigued. “And how did you even know the pronunciation of the words? You have a Sireeni to English dictionary somewhere?”

                    “No, I sent out a blast on some forums with some of the symbols. Mostly, I got Hebrew and Greek and went from there. Can somebody"“ he looked over at Van, who had moved to the corner of the room and was watching Telese warily. ”Can somebody explain what’s going on? Van, this isn’t some weird thing you’re trying to use to get me a girlfriend, is it?”

                    Telese laughed. “I assure you, Fenny, that isn’t going to happen.”

                    “Can you just call me ‘Eric’, please?”

                    “No,” Telese said, looking back down at the book. “You see, Sireeni was the original language. We were the prototypes for humanity. But when it came to be that you lot evolved, that was better than even the Creator had expected. So you became the stars of the show, and we became your supporting actresses, really. Sirens lead you guys into action, heal your civilisations’ wounds, or hammer out the differences between your kind, the Light Lords and the Dark Lords. In order to evolve your civilisations, however, you needed language. So we brought you our own, and you broke it up and turned it into the oldest languages you have now.”

                    “And one of those are Sumerian?”

                    “Yes. A lot of it is Sumerian, actually. Mixed with traits that became Latin, Greek, Sicilianu, a whole mess of things. But Sumerian is so close that, as you just witnessed, we can use it for a simplified version of most of our magic. Some things are so complex, though, that they require Sireeni. As Vangelicus can tell you, if we get to the point where we’re using Sireeni, it generally means you’re in some very serious trouble.”

                    Eric looked over at Van “Vangelicus? Why does she keep calling you that?”

                    Van didn’t take his eyes off of Telese. “Because that’s my full name. I’m Lord of Mathematics in the Light World.”

                    Eric didn’t possibly think the situation right in front of him could get weirder until Van said this. He didn’t know whether to yell at both of them to quit being crazy or laugh or cry.

Instead, as blackness surrounded him, he clearly decided on passing out.

Author's Note

Please ignore highlighted areas as those are notes to myself