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Summary
When he heard the voice, he’d pictured something of beauty. A creature of perfection, one that would render him speechless, take all thoughts from his mind and replace them with thoughts only of the beautiful voice. Siren or not, he was aware of the draw the melodic sound had on him, and he was certain the holder of such a voice would match it in appearance.
There was no way for Minho to be prepared when the figure pulled themselves onto another rock, water cascading off their skin.
Even knowing—hoping—what they were, it still knocked the breath from his lungs, eyes widening.
Sleek sapphire scales shimmered silver where the sunlight touched them, beginning just below the waist and flowing into a long, powerful tail. It curved slightly where it rested on the stone, the wide fin causing ripples in the water where it dipped due to the tail’s length.
Minho couldn’t look away. The sheer beauty of it—not just the tail, but the way it moved, fluid and real—left him utterly still. Rid of any breath he could’ve wished to breathe.
(or: In a village riddled with siren-related disappearances, Minho finds a secret he's willing to do anything to keep)