I felt sick. “So even that wasn’t my choice.”
“Your life has been carefully orchestrated,” the guide acknowledged. “But recently, something changed.”
The scene shifted to my first day at Widdershins. I saw myself walking across campus, but there was something different in my step, a subtle resistance to the magical bindings that had controlled me for so long.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Distance,” the guide explained. “Physical separation from the source of enchantment weakens its hold. And Widdershins itself has ancient protections that naturally dissolve external magical influences on its students. It’s why many young witches find themselves...changing... during their time here.”
I watched myself in those early weeks at school, slowly becoming more myself, whoeverthatwas. The rebellious thoughts that had been suppressed for years began to surface. My interest in things beyond swimming and academics startedto emerge. I began to fight the constant networking functions my parents dragged me to.
But then the guide showed me what I now expected. Every time my parents pulled me away to attend a party or holiday, it wasn’t because they wanted me to network. At least, that wasn’t their main goal. I saw them subtly enchanting me during those parties, slipping me potions, making me morepliableunder their fingers.
It was a never ending dance I did, taking one step forward and then two steps back, never truly gaining ground.
Then the scene shifted. This year.
“Then I met Nerion,” I said softly.
The guide nodded, and the scene shifted to the first night I saw him in the pool. HowmesmerizedI was by this carefree naked man that was so cool and confident. I saw Halloween party next. I watched myself bumping into Nerion, our eyes meeting through our masks. But what I noticed now, with the guide’s perspective, was a faint golden glow around me. It was the remnants of my parents’ enchantments. And how, in Nerion’s presence, it seemed to dim.
“What’s happening there?” I asked, pointing to the fading glow.
“Many inherently magical creatures, especially elemental beings like sirens, naturally disrupt certain types of magic,” the guide explained. “Their connection to the primal forces of the ocean gives them an innate ability to wash away enchantments, even unconsciously. They are the tides upon the sand when it comes to magic.”
I watched our first interaction, searching for any sign that Nerion was using his siren abilities on me. But his mouth remained closed when we spoke, no hint of song or enchantment passing his lips.
“He’s not singing to me,” I observed.
“No,” the guide confirmed. “Not here, nor in any interaction to follow.”
The scenes shifted rapidly through our encounters. I saw our first kiss, our night in the pool, and our weekend escape. In each one, I searched for evidence of Nerion’s magic affecting me, but found none. Instead, I saw the golden glow of my parents’ enchantments growing fainter with each moment I spent in his presence.
“He was freeing me,” I whispered in realization. “Just by being near me.”
“Unintentionally, at first,” the guide nodded. “But when you two became close, his magic sought to free you from your bonds.”
Then the scene shifted to our time in Greece. I watched as Nerion showed me his true form again, as we made love on the beach. The golden glow around me was almost completely gone by then, revealing something brighter, more natural beneath. I saw my true self for the first time, emerging at last.
“So I’m not enchanted by him,” I said, feeling vindicated but also confused. “But why didn’t he say so? Why did he lie?”
The guide waved a hand, and a new scene materialized. It was Nerion alone in his dorm room, looking at a photograph. It was a family portrait of a younger Nerion with two adults, one with red hair and the other with sea-blue eyes.
“To understand his deception,” the guide said, “you must understand his fear.”
I watched as the scene changed to a beach, a similar one in Greece where we had been. A younger Nerion, perhaps thirteen, stood at the water’s edge, watching in horror as a woman, presumably his mother, began to shimmer and dissolve before his eyes, her body turning to seafoam that was carried away by the waves. A man reached for the disappearing foam with anguished cries, only to begin dissolving himself moments later.
“What... what’s happening to them?” I asked, my voice breaking.
“The curse of the sirens,” the guide explained solemnly. “When a siren truly loves another being, their existence becomes bound to that love. If their love is ever unrequited, if the object of their affection stops loving them, even for a moment… they dissolve into seafoam, returning to the sea from which their kind first emerged.”
Understanding dawned on me with terrible clarity. “So if Nerion loves me...”
“And you ever stop loving him in return,” the guide finished, “he would cease to exist.”
“That’s why he tried to keep things casual,” I said, the pieces falling into place. “Why he made me promise not to fall in love with him.”
“He was protecting himself,” the guide nodded. “But it may already be too late.”