A breath in. A breath out. Blood pumped in his veins just the same as it did a human. If you cut him, did he not bleed? Red as a rose, though the one he wove in his hair each morning was blue. Blue as the sea, blue as his eyes and hair. He remembered what his grandmother had told him. That each siren has a flower to them, and his was the blue rose. The unobtainable, the impossible. He was the rare anomaly. The one that did not fit the mold of his race yet would bring them prosperity. His FEAR was just enough different to start his own line. His own flock. His own lineage.

But he was so small. So weak. Unable to sing. Unable to fly. Useless, he would be culled less the shame extend. A useless siren was a dead siren. If it cannot fly it shall fall. If it cannot sing it shall not speak.

A haunting refrain, his fate when he left to enroll. His fears given flesh in the form of his sisters, his cousins, his aunts, his grandmother. His mother. They would not mourn him so much as the siren he could have been. His fate was one of death unless he grew. Unless he changed. Lessons from a dragon until one day, he landed on his legs and not his face. When the wind carried him up and not down. The feeling of freedom. Of finally, after years of never knowing the sky, finding flight. A part of him so long denied now found. He held it close, practiced, got better and better until he didn’t need to worry. The wind was his friend. The breeze his breath. He grew, his wings matching his body. He was slowly but surely becoming the siren he could have been.

Years of his voice cracking, never creating a single sweet note. Causing only pain he wept for himself, fearing he would never find music, that he would never find his song. Days, nights, ages practicing. A crack formed in his voice. His body and mind beginning to match what he wanted with what he could create. What he could sing. Finally, one note, clear, strong. It carried and rang out, pure and full. One note, days and days her tried outhers, until finally, a second. What should have taken only a few months ended up taking years. But once he found that first note- One a week. Each one slowly, forming a song. How long how long? Several months, he practiced in secret, he was scared that he’d managed to fool his own ears, that he’s tricked himself somehow. But no, he sang. He sang and no one came to yell at him, no one came to silence him. No one fled from him. He could sing, he was becoming the siren he was born to be.

He tried to sing to kill, to seek pain and harm but- it came out wrong. His heart was not in it. He couldn’t sing for such things. He could not seek to drawn humans to sorrow, to doom and hopelessness. His heart was not like the others. He didn’t want to cause suffering. He didn’t want to cause pain. He tried it, pushed himself to want to hurt, to want to make it happen, but each time her tried it made his voice raw, burn. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t find his song. Then finally, he realized why. It was such a simple thing, to sing for the sake of happiness. To sing for wanting others to smile. It came so naturally then, like breathing. Like flying. His song was soft, and when he sang he wanted to smile. Gathering his courage he let his fear meld with the melody, watching as it touched his minis at first, making them softer, infused with fear. He practiced. A song for each of his friends. Each one he recorded. He wanted to share his song with them. For them. They were kind to him. He wanted them to smile. That was what he wanted to do with his songs.

He wanted to make people smile.

Even as the isles fell he only wanted his friends to smile. Riley falling into nothingless. His song couldn’t help her. His song couldn’t save her. Still he tried to smile for her. He still tried. He tried and tried and then so much pain. He couldn’t sing over it. He couldn’t sing over the battle, he couldn’t stop the pain and suffering. He knew what was happening. He knew what was going on but-
He wished he didn’t. How long had he ignored the cries, the fear from his friends? How long had the humans they feared been so afraid that they would lash out like that? How had the horsemen hurt them so to warrant an attack? They kept their secrets, but even he was not blind. He knew.

He knew so much, it hurt so much, there was only so much he could do. He needed to be who he was. He needed to accept his fate. He would not die. He was not the siren he could have been. He was not the siren he was born to be. He was Israfel, the anomaly. The broken. The impossible. He was not what his people wanted. He was what he wanted. He had fought to belong, but in that moment, he stopped fighting. He accepted. He accepted that he could not be what they wanted him to be. That he would never kill his grandmother, that he would never kill. The siren felt his wings shed old fear, fresh, new, raw, the white faded, nearly gone.

He smiled for them. For the ones so fiercely defending what was left of their friend, now stone. He smiled for them, because he knew that it was painful, but there was a chance, a hope, that things would be alright. No matter what happened, he believed that. Things could get better, that there was hope. The islands were gone, and even as he came to understand why the hunters had done what they had done, he hoped for the horsemen. That maybe one day, they might understand that they didn’t need to do what they did. That maybe, there was another way. He hoped his fellow students might understand that they didn’t need to fight, to kill. There were other options.

There were always other options. There was always hope.

Taken, he didn’t think it was hopeless. A bit frightening, but he didn’t think all the hunters so cruel. He didn’t think that it would be something so terrible. He smiled for those trapped with him. Frowned at them when they didn’t understand. Didn’t want to understand. How could they not understand what was so basic? Humans feared them. That was natural. But these humans had suffered and fears greater than others. They lashed out from fear. He wanted to help them understand. He wanted to help them all understand.

There was hope. There was always another way.

The offer came, and his heart broke. He knew it in a way. He was one who understood, who sympathized. He was someone foolishly idealistic. He believed that there was hope. He had tried so much to help but was at a loss. There was a certain calm serenity that came with his decision. His heart was breaking. He wanted them to understand that this was the end result of their actions. Of their fear. Fear of hunters. The hunters fear of halloweeners who were willing to kill. It was a cycle of fear and hate. And he stood at the final rotation. He stepped outside of that cycle only to watch it pass him by.

He did not want to cry, yet part of him did. He loved them so much. He loved each one of them. He wanted them to smile and hope for the future. He wanted them to be safe, and to understand that there would always be another option. His heart cried, wept, broke into a thousand tiny shards. Each one for those he knew he would be leaving behind. For those who would not understand his choice. Who not understand how much he loved them. How much he wanted to help them.

He wept for Lucien. The one who he loved, yet never managed to be able to properly tell. The one who had held him up in the clouds before he could fly, who had never hated his songs and had sat through each practice, smiling, encouraging him not matter how he sounded. He wept, because out of everyone, he loved Lucien so much that he knew he would hurt him the most with his choice. His selfish choice. His and his alone. A final song, it was the only gift he could give to them. His coat, a few feathers.

And a song.
A love song.
For Lucien.
For all of them.

As he moved to the pod his heart wept. He would miss them, and he would hope.
He would hope, that someday they might understand.

He loved them. He wanted them to smile. But sometimes a smile needed a price. The cost of happiness was often suffering. That to find happiness, there had to be suffering. One day he hoped, they would understand his suffering, the suffering knowing that the cycle they had stepped into would not end unless they stepped outside of it, if they sought alternatives.

He hoped as the pod door closed that one day they could all smile. They would step outside of the cycle and find a way to end it all. To do what he could not do alone. He hoped as the pain ran through his body, that they would forgive him for his choice. For his wish that they one day would understand.

He loved them, and he would pay the price of the happiness they had given him.

Israfel would pay the price of happiness, just to let them smile a little while longer.