The black consumed everything. Time seemed to slow to nothing as something about the world clicked off. It took her several, unnerving moments before she realized it was her heart. Typically, one did not hear their own heart. Now, however, she heard the absence of it. Despite the world around her having faded into absolute silence, there wasn't a single heartbeat to be heard.

Iliana was dead.

The realization didn't come with as much panic as it should have. Perhaps because some part of her had realized this was coming. It was the same part that'd felt unnerved when asked to turn her back to the sirens. After all, to become a siren meant you were dead or dying. Iliana'd been neither. Looking back, it was obvious. The gods couldn't break the laws, therefore the situation had to be corrected before she could become a siren.

Still, it didn't mean Iliana wasn't angry.

Rhode had literally stabbed her in the back. No warning. No, "how would you like to die, Iliana?" No, "this might hurt." Just a single, condemning wound to the back would have left her to bleed out in the water had she not fallen on the blade. Perhaps Rhode had meant to stab her heart, but hadn't been able to dig the blade deep enough before Iliana wrenched around. She wasn't sure if she should feel grateful that the siren had meant to finish her off instantly, or even more pissed that Rhode hadn't managed it.

Dying hurt. A dagger tearing through your flesh because your attacker couldn't finish the job was even worse.

All of these thoughts seemed to happen over a number of hours, or seconds. She couldn't tell which. Time was as absent as light. The dark, which would have once set her nerves on edge, only made her curious. She felt as if she were nowhere, but everywhere. She stared around, as if she were turning her head, but at the same time when she looked down, she saw nothing. Another thing that should have sent her into a panic.

Perhaps it was impossible to be scared.

A light appeared in the distance. It was no more than a faint glow, but in the pitch black it might as well have been the sun. She started towards it, that feeling of moving, yet not, flooding her absent body. The light moved towards her as well. Soon, almost familiar features filled what had been a fuzzy glow. His hair, what had struck her as dusty brown before, came off as a dark chestnut now. His eyes, once appearing gray, now appeared to be almost as black as the air around them. He was no longer translucent, instead the gate-master's toned, muscular frame appeared as solid as the strongest men.

Everything about Aran, a creature born of death, drew her towards him. Without opening his mouth, his presence created a pull sweeter than any siren song. Perhaps this was the reason that when he rose his hand, a screen of light flooded the darkness left between them.

"You cannot come here."

His soft voice washed over her, soothing away any nervousness that'd managed to worm through the strange calm the darkness coated her in. The words held a strange edge to them, an accent she'd never heard. They were sharper, and Iliana faintly realized they sounded similar to how the few foreigners she knew, spoke. Those who'd learned the common language, not grown up with it.

"Why?" she asked.

The faintest hint of amusement lifted the edges of his lips "Because if you touch me, you will truly die. It is something the legends don't speak of. Once your soul is collected, no power beyond that of my masters can change your fate."

Iliana frowned. He was right; she had never heard that story before. Suddenly that pull she'd felt made sense. If he hadn't stopped her, she would have gone to him without a second thought. Her whole plan would have ruined, and she'd have never known.

"Why?" she asked again, causing Aran to quirk a brow. "I mean, why refrain? Why not take my soul? Don't Shinnah and Doroi hate when fate is cheated?"

"Do you want to die?" he countered.

"Well, no."

"Then why ask?" Aran questioned. "Why not simply accept this gift-- me allowing your soul to linger long enough for the sirens to pull it back?"

She tensed, lifting her chin in a challenging and confident manner. "Because, nothing is ever free."

Aran seemed to consider her for an unknown amount of time. She cocked a brow much like he had, resulting in him showing that same, faint amusement as before.

"It is sad that one your age already knows how the world works," he mused.

She scoffed. "You look no older than me."

"Looks can be deceiving," he replied. "Something you should be aware of. Did you think that siren, Rhode, was near your age as well? In human years, she would already be considered an elder."

Iliana knitted her brow. Rhode was that old? She'd thought it strange that the sirens, even the older ones, looked to her for instruction.

"So how old are you?" she asked.

"You're getting distracted," he pointed out. "But, I'll answer. I am twenty-three in human years."

"Barely older than me, then," she replied stubbornly.

He laughed. "I suppose."

"So, again, what do you want for this? Why protect me?" she challenged once again

. He studied her in return. The gaze was a familiar one-- it held the feel of someone assessing her worth. As if he were measuring her for a task, one that he considered important enough to preserve her soul.

"What do you know of my kind?"

She hesitated, prompting a chuckle from him. "I see. Nothing, then."

"I know a little!" she protested.

"Most likely not what matters in this circumstance," he said. His even-tone, as if this was to be expected of her, grated on Iliana's nerves. Fear may not have been allowed in this place, but it would seem that anger came to her as easily as ever. "When we are created, like with the sirens there are certain rules that must be followed. Our souls cannot be collected, rather, we must be offered our chance in this place. We cannot have died of a nightmare's poison, given that leaves a taint on the soul only time can erase. We cannot have died of old age, as even if that death was feared, it doesn't leave enough of an impression on the soul.

"The biggest rule, however, is that we must have a tie to life. We must feel the fear, the panic, the anger, the unrelenting longing, that comes with an untimely death. That connection to the world is what our goddess uses. She takes it, she builds on it, and she releases us back to the earth with that tie as our guide. So, more often than not, my kind will stay with what tied us to the earth, and, once again more often than not, this tends to be a person, or several people."

"Your person is on the island?" Iliana asked.

He nodded. "They are."

"You want me to talk to them for you?" she asked, tilting her head. "Tell them something like, 'he misses you,' or something?"

Aran shook his head, his amusement with her words showing, then disappearing just as quickly. A serious edge appeared to his expression, sending a shiver down Iliana's spine. She suddenly realized that in this place, he had all control. She was calm, now, but the second he'd tensed, a faint reflection of the determination and fear he felt flickered through her.

"No, I want you to save him."

She blinked, then blinked again.

"Come again?"

"His ship came too close to the island, just as yours did. He had a charm to protect himself, but... well, you know how dangerous it can be when you try to come between your crew and the the sirens. He managed to make it through to the island, but he's injured, and I doubt most here would take well to finding him. At the same time, he can't stay where he is. The nightmares will get to him."

Iliana narrowed her eyes. "Why me? If this works, I will be a siren."

"I've been watching you," he replied. "You aren't afraid of men, nor are you aggressive towards them. You're the best chance he has."

She hesitated, biting down on her lip. At least, she thought she did. The sharp pain that should have come with the action was missing.

"Assuming I did this, which I'm not saying I will, what would I even do with him? It isn't as if I could bring him back to the village, nor is there a ship I could stick him on. He'd be just as stranded as he was before."

"Take him to the cave with that boy," Aran answered.

His words prompted another question: how often was he watching her without her knowledge? How had he known about Kain? The thought of her friend seemed to stall her hesitation. Aran wasn't asking anything more of her than she'd already done. Like her, he had someone on the island he cared about, and like her, he was searching for a way to protect him.

In his place, she would have asked the same.

"I'll see what I can do," Iliana said. "No promises."

Aran offered her a faint smile. "That's all I ask. Thank-you."

He waved a hand. The screen of light disappeared between them. Then, while offering her that smile, Aran disappeared as quickly as the light.

She was alone in the dark once again.

¸.•*¨*•.¸♪¸.•*¨*•.¸♥¸.•*¨*•.¸

The amount of time she spent in the dark after that, Iliana would never know. She could have been told she'd been floating in the black for a lifetime and she would have believed it. The only thing that she was certain about was that when the black blinked out and her consciousness returned, the switch was as quick as a snap of her fingers.

All of the emotions she'd been missing suddenly clicked into place, the ones she'd already held seeming amplified. She wasn't angry, she was pissed. Nervousness, fear, and even impatience flooded through her as she slowly flicked open her eyes. Iliana was met with a clear view of the ceiling of her cabin. The details seemed sharper than before, but nothing else had changed.

She was a siren, now, right?

Her nerves had her frame drawn taut as she sat up and swung her legs off of the bed. The room was empty. The only thing about it that seemed out-of-place was the familiar, old wood box now sitting on the kitchen table. She stood, intending to approach it, but paused half-way across the cabin. The way she moved felt different. Not wrong, just different. What exactly it was, she couldn't have placed.

With a small shake of her head, she continued over to the table. The removal of the box's lid revealed what she'd assumed-- it was the same box. Settled inside atop a fine cloth was a dagger of elaborate design. The sheath was covered in gems of varying shapes, colors and sizes, that somehow blended together to create the beautiful piece. When she pulled this away from the blade, the horribly sharp metal reflected the faint light streaming into the cabin. The initials 'SN' were engraved into the blade in a swirling script. Its pommel was embedded with a large, ruby red stone.

Overall, it was a beautiful weapon.

A seemingly baseless shiver crept up her spine and she turned, gaze flicking over the cabin once again. It took her a moment, but she soon picked up on the sight of Aran hovering in the corner of the room, his eyes settled on her. How long had he been there? Had he been watching her sleep?

"Are you wanting me to go now?" she asked.

He nodded. They were back to silence, then.

Hesitation swept through her. If she left now, the sirens would surely notice her absence. What would she say when she returned? The question swept her uncertainty away. It wasn't a matter of when she returned, but if. They'd killed her, just as they'd killed her crew. The only difference was that Iliana had come back, where her crew had drown. She knew better than to trust people who approached her with a smile, but yet she continued to do so on numerous occasions. This time, it was the sirens who told her anything but the truth of the ceremony. Before, it'd been the man she was told to marry, and even earlier than that, her brother-in-law.

Even now, she could remember the first time she'd met him. She'd been eleven, and tiny for her age. He'd bent down to offer her his hand, saying that he just knew they were going to be best friends. He said that her sister talked of her all the time, and he had been so excited to meet the girl behind the stories. Only a few months later, he was wearing that same smile when he locked her in the basement as a punishment for some perceived error. She couldn't remember what she'd done, just that she'd cried and cried as she begged him to let her out.

Iliana shivered as her mind pulled up a hazy recollection of her fear and how that had only been the first of many, many nights spent in the dark. As pissed as she was with the sirens, she couldn't help the way thoughts on her current situation seemed to purge the pain from her memory. No man could do anything like that to her ever again-- not if she was truly one of them. How to test that, she wasn't certain. They hadn't told her what would happen to her after the ceremony, only that it would change her. Iliana's voice sounded the same to her, but she'd met many sirens who sounded like normal human women.

Aran waved his hand in front of her face, jolting her thoughts to the present. It was no use worrying about all of that. She had agreed to help him, so help him she would. If it ticked off the sirens to find her missing, then it was a well deserved payback for what they'd done. That in mind, she scoured the cabin for her bow and belt. After a few moments of thought, during which she had to ignore the impatient, and slightly unnerving stare Aran was giving her, she unhooked one of the hunting knives and replaced it with the ceremonial dagger.

Take that. She thought, perhaps a bit too smugly. It looks important. I bet they'll be more panicked about it disappearing than they'll be about me.

As if knowing her thoughts, Aran rolled his eyes, a slightly amused edge to his continually impatient expression. He gestured towards the door, prompting  her to roll her eyes in turn.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she griped, stepping forward. Then, she paused again. "You said he was injured, right? Do I need bandages or anything?"

Aran frowned. Then, he shook his head. The same warning bell that'd gone off at the beginning of the ceremony chimed in the back of her mind. She ignored it, and cocked her head to the side.

"You certain? I can carry it. I'm not weak."

He seemed to hesitate, then shrug. She took that as a, 'do as you think best.' So, she did. Within a number of minutes she'd stuffed a few rolls of bandage and rags into the quiver, figuring she didn't need but a handful of arrows anyways. The only reason she had it in the first place was the faint memory of Rhode's comment about the Nightmares acting strange. A weapon she could barely use was better than no weapon at all.

All of this taken care of, she finally gave into Aran's impatience and slipped over to the entrance. A quick peek out of the window revealed the village to be coated in the pitch black of midnight without a single soul running around. Perhaps they didn't expect her to be awake so quickly-- or perhaps she'd slept longer than expected. Either way, no one was watching for Iliana. Taking advantage of this, she slipped out of the door and quietly ran to the treeline. There, she paused and looked back once again. Something inside her said this was a bad idea. That she should wait until day when she could at least tell someone she was going for a walk.

They'll just have to deal, she decided. It's not like I'm doing anything horrid. Besides, they couldn't have expected me to take dying so easily. It's reasonable to be a bit upset and want some time alone...

With a shake of her head, she ducked through the willows. "Show the way, Aran."

Needing no more encouragement, he took off between the trees. It took everything she had to keep up with him, given that following a half-transparent figure in the dead of night was a bit difficult. Not to mention the fact that the path they took was one she'd never followed before. It took time, but she soon realized that they were headed for one of the cliffs that ringed the island.

Why was his friend up there?

Pushing the strangeness of the situation out of her mind, she picked up her pace as to draw even with him.

"So, this friend of yours... best friend? Childhood friend? Secret lover?" she guessed, then laughed at the instantly dirty look she received as a response. "No? Backing up, then. Childhood friend?"

He hesitated, then nodded.

"Hm... alright. Neighbor?" Iliana asked. He shook his head. "Hm... met at school, then?" Another shake. "Through older siblings? Parents?" He nodded and she furrowed her brow. "Parents?"

She received hesitation again, then the nod. Following that, she fell silent, rolling the idea over in her mind. Why was he so reluctant to answer her? Did he not like talking of his past? Perhaps it was difficult, what with his being dead and all. Whatever the reason, he was content to let her struggle to keep up with him in silence. The trip through the trees, then up the rapidly inclining cliff took around thirty minutes in all. By the time Aran began to slow to a stop, she was almost panting. The rocky ground beneath them had begun to narrow in width, but the end of the cliff had yet to come into view.

"How much further?"

He furrowed his brow, then lifted a hand to point. She looked in the direction and picked up the faint glow of a campfire shining over the incline. So, his friend was there.

"Is he stupid?" she asked.

Aran shrugged, apparently sharing her feelings on his friend's choice. After all, for someone who was trying to conceal himself from the sirens, he was doing a pretty piss poor job of it. Anyone who looked towards the cliffs would see it given the lack of foliage up this high. Drawing in a deep breath, Iliana pressed on.

"Hey, Aran's friend!" she called out. "I'm here to help you. I've got things for first aid."

At first, no response came. Then, there was the sound of someone shifting around. At that same moment she drew close enough to peak over the hill. Sitting cross-legged by the campfire was a rather large man. One look told her that he was perhaps bigger than anyone she'd sailed with aboard the Airlea. Without a doubt, he'd tower over her when he stood. His figure was full, muscles taut and sculpted over what could have been skin as dark as Kain's, although she suspected that was the lighting and it laid closer to her own, olive tone.

"Aran, you say?"

His voice was a warm baritone and carried the same, sharp accent as Aran's. As she came closer to the fire, she was able to make out more of him. Such as how the firelight cast a shadow across his sculpted jaw, which was covered with dirty-blonde stubble. Or how the light showed the dozens upon dozens of scars that covered his torso. Unlike what she'd seen on Callias's back, these were the marks of a fighter. Blade marks and bullet wounds-- more than one should ever seen on the average man

That warning bell was screaming at her now. Instinctively, she knew she should turn back and forget her promise. This man was dangerous.

She opened her mouth, but no noise emerged. Rather, she watched as he slowly unfurled his long limbs in a way that reminded her of a predator. Still, she stood still, watching him with a carefully blank expression. If she was right, showing fear was the worse thing she could do. If she was wrong, insulting Aran's friend was a horrible way to pay back a favor to a gatemaster.

"Y-yes," she forced herself to say. "Aran. He asked that I help you. He said you were injured."

He rose a brow, looking to where the gatemaster stood. Her mouth went dry. If he could see Aran, then this was definitely no ordinary man. He'd seen death before.

Iliana took a step back. She definitely should have waited for daylight. She should have told the sirens she'd be out. She should have said something to Callias, or Melitta, and asked for them to back her up.

"I am."

The words snatched her attention from her panic. The man offered her a smile, his hand falling to his side. In her assessment of him, somehow she'd missed the cloth he'd tied off around his thick torso. Dark color stained the makeshift bandage, a sure sign of an existing injury. Aran hadn't lied. She needed to calm down. Iliana drew in several deep breaths in an attempt to steady her nerves.

"Sorry if I frightened you," the man added. "I tend to have that effect on people. A side-effect of my size. I won't hurt you, I swear by Koun."

Koun, the god of fortune and healing. Also, infamously the most mischievous of the pantheon. The patron god of doctors and thieves alike. A promise sworn with his name did nothing to help her rising anxiety. Still, she doubted he'd swear something by a god if there wasn't some truth behind the statement. It would be stupid to use a god's name in a lie, even one as tricky as Koun.

So, she inched towards him. "Let me see the wound. I brought bandages..."

He nodded and sat back down before he began unwrapping the cloth. She relaxed somewhat and closed the distance between them. She'd gotten worked up needlessly-- not everyone was out to get her. She was just jumpy because of the ceremony. This in mind, she forced herself to kneel next to him and pull her quiver off her back so she could extract the bandages. He'd heal better with something clean.

She'd just managed to close her hand around the first bandage roll when he struck.

The man lunged forward, his left arm shoving her down and settling against her chest. His other hand reached for something unseen. She struggled, kicking out and even managing to nail him in the leg before he straddled her. The hand came back, settling a knife at her throat. She stopped struggling.

"Thought that might do the trick," he mused.

Her fingers slipped down towards her belt, eyes narrowed in on him. He'd pulled the arm against her chest away and was reaching for the cloth he'd unwrapped from his chest. In her current position it became glaringly clear that there wasn't an injury. She'd been played. Her fingers closed in on the hilt of her hunting knife and without an ounce of hesitation, she twisted it around and plunged the blade into his side. The man swore, but instead of loosening his grip he pressed the blade tighter against her throat, to the point it stung.

"That hurt," he said, voice entirely too calm for her tastes. "But, that's good, I guess. I did tell Aran to find one with some fight in her. Guess he did well."

He paused, as if to give her a chance to take in the news, or maybe even to reply. Either way, her response came in the form of spitting in his face. If she'd been calmer, perhaps she would have thought more on her actions. At the moment, however, she was pissed. She'd been right. Trusting Aran's smile had been yet another mistake in a long line of misplaced trust. As soon as she got herself out of this situation, she was done. No more trusting people besides Kain.

The man sighed, bringing the long cloth up to wipe his face.

"Now, that's just disgusting. Why'd you have to go and do that?" he asked. She glowered at him. "Well, I guess that's fair. I'd be mad, too. Now, let's see..."

He released the knife he held and she instantly bucked against the ground, trying to throw him off of her. She grabbed for the hunting blade that was still buried in his side, but was stopped as he used his free hand to seize hers. He then pulled it above her head. This, of course, only had her grabbing for the ceremonial dagger with her other hand. She'd gotten ahold of it when he managed to capture her wrist with his other hand, the one holding the cloth. Despite her kicking, bucking, and even an attempt to bite him, he managed to trap this hand above her head as well.

Then, holding them both in place with the hand not holding the cloth, he began wrapping the cloth itself around her wrists. Panic set in, overwhelming the anger running through her. This wasn't good. Being pinned by a stranger was one thing-- being tied up by a stranger was another entirely. Still, it was one man against an island of people on her side. They'd come looking for her, surely, when they saw her missing.

"There we go," the man mused. "That looks tight enough."

He released her wrists, his hand snapping back to grab the knife he'd dropped. Then, once again placing it beneath her neck, he used his free hand to lean back and reach for yet another unseen object. She stopped struggling once again, but her mind was racing. If she swung her arms around, she might get herself stabbed, but she also might manage to capture his hand. Then what? It was his weight that had her pinned down. She couldn't buck him off, nor could she wiggle out from beneath him given his legs were firmly settled on each side of her waist.

Fighting was out of the question. How about talking? She could try and sing, but Aran had said his friend had a charm to keep himself from being called by the sirens. Even if she could sing, most likely it wouldn't effect him. Sure, Aran could have been lying, but what else would enable a man to reach the island without injury?

As she was thinking, she realized what he'd been reaching for was a bag. From inside, he pulled out a leather pouch much like the one Callias wore. The man moved to put it around her neck, so she firmly pushed her head to the ground, refusing to give him the chance to put it on her easily. He sighed.

"That's endearing, really. I love the stubbornness, but surely you're smarter than that. I told him to get a smart one, and he did so well with picking you out. I could knock you out and do whatever I wished, or you can just let me put this charm on. Think of it this way, you stay awake, perhaps you find a way free. I mean, you probably won't, I'm pretty good at this kidnapping thing, but you never know."

Kidnapping? She froze. He used that second of distraction to slip the charm over her head and settled the pouch against her chest. She didn't feel any different, but internally swore at the concession. Whatever it was didn't spell good for her. Especially seeing as the man suddenly pulled away from Iliana and stood, finally pulling the knife from his side. She instantly attempted a kick to his groin, swearing aloud when he managed to dodge her foot.

Still scheming, she pulled her tied wrists to her chest and began scooting backwards, eyeing the ground around them. Perhaps she could get to the fire. A few burns were nothing if she could get a weapon. Or maybe there was a sharp rock. She didn't see one, but it was dark. Before she could make a decision, he'd leaned down to grab her wrists with one hand, and scoop his other arm beneath her legs. She yelped and began struggling once again. There was no reason she'd let him carry her.

She turned her head, biting his neck hard enough to draw blood. He swore.

Then, he threw her off of the cliff, towards the ocean.

A/N: I might put one more chapter in this part, but I might not! I'm debating back and forth. Anyways, I doubt any of you were anticipating that one! Well, unless you picked up on the multiple hints that have been given since they first neared Inna's Cove. Any guesses what those were?

Also, any guesses of what's going on? Why'd the ghostie set her up? How about the man? Any guesses what he is? Pretty sure one of you already knows...

Anyways, hope you enjoyed, and hoping to see you in part two! Or, well, the next chapter if I decide to do one more.