The island took care of little Siren as if she were its own. She lacked for nothing. The trees bore fruits when she was hungry, the soft winds kept her cool when the sun burned high above, and the warm earth beneath her feet provided comfort during her restless nights. She had everything she could possibly need - except for one thing.
She longed for human company, but there were none to be found on this forsaken island.
She spent her days roaming the dense forest, her small feet padding over the moss-covered ground, her green eyes wide with curiosity as she observed the animals that lived there. Birds perched on the trees, insects hummed by, and every once in a while, a deer would glance at her from a distance before bounding off into the underbrush. She often saw vessels floating far out at sea, their sails billowing in the wind, but they never came closer. They always passed the island with such deliberate speed, as though they were fleeing from something, or perhaps, from her. The idea made her feel small, insignificant, and alone.
Though Siren appeared to be six years old, she was only four. The island provided her with the nutrients her body needed, feeding her with the bounty of the land. When nature could not provide, the powers of her Life-Life Fruit connected her to the surroundings, pulling energy from the plants, the animals, and even the earth itself. It was a strange and powerful gift, one she barely understood but had come to rely on.
Over time, the island became both her home and her prison. She was aware that she was different - she could feel it in her bones. The power that flowed through her, the way the island bent to her will, it all made her feel separate from everything around her. And yet, despite everything, there was something she couldn't escape: the overwhelming loneliness.
At times, she would sit at the edge of the forest, her small hands tracing the leaves and flowers she had come to know so well. She would watch the horizon, hoping for a ship to appear, or perhaps, for someone to stumble upon the island and find her. She would daydream about someone who would love her, cradle her, protect her-someone to talk to, someone to share her world with. The Voice of All Things spoke often of parents, of love, of connections between people. It spoke of warmth, care, and safety. But Siren remembered her life-giver-the woman who had brought her into the world.
Her mother.
Siren had never looked into her mother's eyes. The moment she had been born, her mother had tried to end her life. The hatred was palpable, as if it had been carved into her soul. Siren had felt it, even before her birth, deep within her-she could sense the bitterness and the malice that radiated from her mother. It was as if the very essence of her being screamed of rejection. The island, in its strange way, had saved her. A bolt of lightning had struck the moment her mother's hand reached for her, and it had killed everyone around her- but left Siren untouched. She was the only one to survive the storm.
The Voice of All Things had whispered of love, of the bond between mother and child, but Siren had never known that love. Instead, she had learned to protect herself, to shield her heart from the feelings that had tried to drown her. The island, with all its lush greenery and gentle winds, had become her sanctuary. It was the only place where she felt safe, loved, and wanted. It was her home. The vessels on the horizon became nothing but a distant memory, until the Voice began speaking again.
The Voice of All Things began to speak of change. It spoke of others, of people yet to come. A boy would arrive, someone who would bring a great shift to the world-a positive one, though it would be followed by war. It would be a boy who would change everything. Siren didn't fully understand, but she could feel the storm brewing. She felt the shift in the world, the pull of something larger than herself, something she couldn't stop.
The Voice also spoke of danger, of forces yet to be unleashed. It spoke of the boy and the potential he held, and of how his arrival would spark a series of events that would lead to chaos. Siren could feel the unrest, a growing tremor in the world around her, as if the earth itself was holding its breath. It would be a time of war, of upheaval, but also of hope. The boy would bring something new, something transformative. The thought both excited and terrified her.
In the silence of the forest, Siren would sit and listen, her small hands pressed against the earth, feeling the pulse of life beneath her. She had always been able to sense the life around her, even as a baby. Her powers went beyond the Life-Life Fruit. She could feel the essence of all things-the vitality of plants, the health of animals, even the emotions of people. Her connection to life, to souls, was strong, and it was growing stronger with each passing day.
As a fetus, she had felt the cold hatred of her mother, her soul rejecting her even before she was born. She had known, even then, that she was unwanted. But now, as she grew, she could feel the energy of everything around her. She could sense the vitality of the trees, the strength of the animals, and the emotions of the creatures she encountered. It was a gift, and a curse. She could feel the fear, the anger, and the intent of others. She knew when something was wrong, when something was out of balance.
Siren often wondered why the Voice had chosen her. Why had it spoken to her? Why was she the one who had been saved when all others had perished? And why did she sense the coming storm? The boy, the war, the change-it was all connected, but she didn't understand how.
The ships on the horizon still passed, their sails billowing in the wind, but Siren no longer watched them with longing. Instead, she felt a strange pull, a sense of inevitability. She felt the world shifting, moving toward something that she couldn't yet grasp. She had been alone for so long, but the winds of change were blowing, and she knew that soon, her solitude would end.