'When I look in the mirror I see you,' Meera thought at the rippling reflection staring from the hanging water's-surface portal charm on the wall. That was her mother's nose, the same resolute mouth and eyes so dark the pupils were hard to discern. Maybe they weren't even there. Even a drop of siren's blood made some features hard to shake after generations of dilution.

She liked to think she could see a small difference in colour, and that if she one day had a daughter of her own, that girl would have eyes quite strikingly normal. But she wouldn't though, that girl would never exist because Meera could only be the last.

And that meant it had to be her who would finish rectifying all the havoc Riphian had caused when loosed on the world. The weight of worlds' worth of chaos pushed down on her whenever she thought about it, which was almost always. It's not the kind of thing you forget—rather, it consumes you little by little. When she was small it was a scary story, then an explanation for the dreams she had, and when she learned to dance it became a promise she ignored, choosing to live her life as best she could in the shadows of titans, the women who came before her. She didn't want to spend the rest of her years living for the mistakes of another so long ago none remembered.

But the dreams came for her. They came and they didn't leave, Meera waking up gasping and clammy with cold sweat. She never remembered more than hints and feelings after she woke, but she knew that was the way of things. Her mother never prodded her to begin the journey, but she watched, dark eyes waiting always. She'd have taken on the quests herself if she could, Meera knew.

Only Meera could accept quests given to her by the dreams. They foretold events where the hidden pockets of chaos would unfurl, wreaking havoc where it wasn't righted by the blood of the siren. Those of the blood would never remember every detail of the dream upon awakening. They had to set out and find the dream, recalling steps and stages as they followed a feeling. They couldn't explain it to another and have it taken from their hands. Each followed her own path.

It scared her, that she might leave to find pain and destruction, and she couldn't know. It made sense—hiding it made each siren-blood less likely to run away from certain harm, but it was something she only resented and hid from more, the less she knew. That someone else had caused this generations-lasting calamity and had the gall to bring into the world a child to inherit her sin and carry it forever, that angered her. As did the rest of the chain, including her own mother. How dare they choose this life for a girl they would each create for no purpose but to continue to suffer for a woman long gone?

She'd never make the same mistake.

It's what she always thought. She wouldn't go out and follow the dreams, she wouldn't listen, and when the pull tore her apart, she would hide in a corner and hold onto her head, waiting out the screaming within. That was the way it would be.

That's what Meera had thought. But her mother had disappeared on yet another quest. The difference was, it had been a year now. Meera had learned to care for herself through the times before, but now she knew she was the last one left. She knew because she'd begun to see the shadow her mother had spoken of, to hear his voice: 'You're finally free. It's what you wanted isn't it? No one can tell you to serve anymore. Stay put. Hide forever.'

And suddenly, she knew it was all down to her. She donned the red hood her mother had made her, as every siren-blood before her had, and just like that she couldn't hear him anymore. Meera stopped to gaze at her reflection on the way out.

'I hope you're happy,' Meera thought with a heavy feeling in her chest, 'because when I look in the mirror, I see you.' It was her mother's long, thin nose she saw, the same hard pressed mouth, and the dark eyes, so very dark that the pupils were hard to discern. Maybe they weren't even there.