The Ruby Shoal—known across the sea for its crimson coral, and the blood of countless sailors who had perished in its treacherous waters.

The Kraken’s Folly had lain anchor at the reef’s edge. Scarlet sails hung from its masts, for Darius Bowditch would master this shoal. This he vowed, and never a vow had he broken, as long as he had sailed.

In a simple dinghy, he rowed by long oar between the crags of rock into the darkness of the cove. At his side lay his harpoon and his knife was strapped to his side. His heart thumped to think of the fame and fortune that awaited him. The greatest of all the sea’s hunters he was. Everyone knew it.

Now, he would prove it.

He would master this Shoal and return with proof of his deed: the marvelous, gleaming scales of the infamous ruby mermaidens.

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She sensed the paddling of the boat long before it entered her shoal. Each disturbance of the water was an echo in her small, curved ears. The flip of a fish’s fin, cormorants alighting upon the surface, a boat’s prow slicing through the waves…they all meant one thing.

Her prey was near.

With a flick of her magnificent tail, she swam out of the shadow of the corals into the dim light of evening. Her glorious eyes searched the night until she found her quarry. This boat came quickly, its rower of steely muscle and strong arm. As stalwart as he was foolhardy, to venture carelessly into this place.

A cruel smile played at her pale lips. A wicked glint shone in her scarlet eyes. Long had it been since a man came to her shoal. Greatly had she hungered.

Now, she would feast.

Like a ghost, she rose to the surface, where her witless prey awaited.

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He saw her as she ascended from the gloom. There could be no mistaking her. Even at depth, hundreds of scarlet scales flashed on her tail, razor sharp and interlocking. Hundreds of scales, each of finest ruby, as if carved from precious stone.

Hundreds of scales, and each worth a king’s ransom.

Darius licked his lips. He could almost taste the gold of Spanish doubloons between his teeth. Never a fortune had any sailing man dreamed of than the wealth of a ruby mermaid’s scales, and soon it would be his.

Muscles rippled in his powerful arms as he turned into the grotto, towards the gleams of scarlet beneath the waves.

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Salty spray stung her face as she surfaced. The siren crawled along the rocks, dragging herself along with slender arms, and watched as the hapless man searched for her. She could hear the rhythm of his heart, pulsing with fear and wonder.

Her stomach growled at thoughts of warm blood dribbling down her chin, fresh from his strong heart. Her lips parted and uttered a longing sigh, her sharp teeth exposed.

She would have his heart. She would feast on it while he watched in agony. Then, she would slaughter him for the crime of witnessing her perfection.

For she was Seraphina, siren of these shoals. Never a sailor had heard her song whose heart she hadn’t devoured. Never a man beheld her splendor whose eyeballs she hadn’t plucked.

She tossed her golden hair amidst the green sea spray, then opened her lips, as red as her eyes, and began to sing.

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There she was! Upon the rocks. The mermaiden had come!

Her song was the sweetest melody—it filled his ears, but not his heart. Lesser men would’ve broken, but he was no mere cabin boy, leaping overboard at the crook of a woman’s finger. He knew this song well. He had studied it. Steeped himself in it. By trial and tribulation, he had overcome it.

Let her believe she’d entranced him. That he was slave to her voice. He turned and sailed for her like a man possessed, though possessed not of her, but of ambition.

But she was a cunning creature. A blind man could see that.  She swept down from the rocks and circled him, just out of reach, the power of her song building with every verse. Whenever he approached, she darted away, keeping him at a distance.

She would not be easily taken.

No foolish beast was she, but the great predator of seafaring men.

Now, to be his prey.

If only he could get closer!

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This man was no common bosun, but a master of the seas who believed himself invincible. Elsewise, he would not have come here so brazenly, for he was neither stranded nor lost. The way he followed her…he was here of his own accord. This was a rare man. One who sailed towards danger rather than away from it. A man of purpose.

There were no wax plugs in his ears. He bore her song fully and did not capsize his boat. If he yearned for her, he was making a splendid show of resistance. This resilience was trained. Practiced. This was no common sailor.

He had come for her!

Oh, a great prize he would be! A true triumph! And a treat, for a heart steeped in greed was the greatest delicacy.

Very well. If he sought her, let him find her. Though her fingers curled, itching to drag him below, she would be patient. She would entice him. Soon he would learn that he had vastly underestimated the goddess of these shoals. Her devouring of him would only be more satisfying.

She would toy with this man before she claimed his soul. She tossed her long hair and let him come close. He would look upon her, and his rapture would consume him. He would not resist her.

None could.

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At last, she stayed! Darius steered towards her as the sea wench flattered him with her looks, preening as he neared. She sought to seduce him. This much was clear. Her pride would be her ending.

She would know nothing of his intentions until it was far too late.

His oars pressed into the water, bringing him to a stop. She was still a ways off, but he was no fool. He would not go to the place she had appointed. She would come to him.

From his pocket, he produced a sack of gems, a sailor’s lifetime wage, but a pittance to the fortune before him. He tossed it across the water to her, leaning over the side to call out.

“For you, fair maiden! No gem nor gold compares to the wealth of your splendor!”

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Seraphina watched the petty stones sink. What a notion of men it was, to trade with such silly trinkets. Still, His resolve was weakening. He was bending to her will. The spark was lit within him.

Now, she would fan it into flame.

He would not be enticed from a distance. His killing would be intimate. Close. She would carve out his heart before his eyes. Right before she closed them.

To his boat she swam, pretending not to see the harpoon by his side. Pretending not so see the blade he carried. What arrogance of men, to believe that he could take her.

Well, he would see.

“Handsome sailor!” she cried. “My loneliness knows no desire for gems, but only your warm embrace!”

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The mermaiden’s pale hand clutched the edge of the dingy. Darius’ arm tensed, ready to seize his harpoon and thrust it through her breast in an instant…but not yet. He would be patient and cunning.

She thought he was lost. That he’d been driven mad. She thought he was hers.

She was mistaken.

“Beauty of the gods, won’t you come into my arms?” he asked, reaching for her.

“No! I mustn’t! You will take me from this place and carry me away!”

“I would hold you for all time. Only lend me your hand!”

Her thin arm contracted, and she pulled herself up. Her long body slithered over the side and her scarlet tail wrapped round the prow like a serpent. Darius’s hand drifted to the knife at his belt.

Now, he had her!

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He thought himself victorious now. He was deluded. Not here. This was her domain. Here, she reigned supreme.

“We cannot be together here!” she lamented. “Come below with me, and our love shall be eternal!”

“But I shall surely drown!” he protested. “How can I trust your love? Only pry free a scale from your tail, and I will know your heart is true.”

And so, he fell into her trap completely. She loosened a single scale from her tail and presented it to him. His eyes went wide to behold such a treasure, and in his greed he grabbed for it eagerly, forgetting his purpose.

Seraphina’s claws curled. She readied to strike and end him.

So consumed she was by bloodlust, hunger, and surety that she failed to see the flash of the knife in his hand.

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Darius’s aim was practiced and deadly. First, he would spill her blood in her cove. Then, he would carve every scale from her corpse. The greatest riches of the seas were his…!

Immersed in dreams of opulence, he overswung.

His blade grazed the mermaid’s neck. Her hand seized his wrist in a powerful grip and twisted. His knife clattered to the floor and with a flick of her tail it flew overboard. Then, she struck at him with lightning speed.

The last thing he saw was the flash of her ruby nails. Then, blackness consumed him.

He buckled, screaming in agony. He heard her cruel laughter, a slurping sound, a fluid pop, and the crunch of her teeth. She devoured his eyes while he writhed beneath her.

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His eyes were as delicious as she’d imagined. His blood dripped from the longboat and stirred into the waters of her lagoon. He was hers now.

He thrashed as she bent over his mutilated face, oblivious to her triumphant smile. His heart hammered in his chest and his arms flopped about on the deck as she placed her palm on his chest. Her fingernails contracted, slicing slowly into his flesh.

She closed her eyes, savoring the taste of his blood. She was Seraphina, the ultimate predator of the seas, and now…

Her eyes flew open as a great gasp escaped her lips. Pain shattered her. Then coldness, spreading throughout her body, as her neck was bathed in warmth.

The scale she’d plucked…it was buried deep in her jugular. He had thrust it into her neck.

Her breath came in gurgling rasps. Blood filled her lungs, lungs that drew life from water and air, but found only death in her own essence. She fell back as the boat, the shoal, and the starlight above all faded from her eyes, and the world turned dark.

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It was over! The mermaid’s body lay limp and lifeless. His wild strike of desperation had somehow found its mark. The mermaiden was dead!

He had done it!

He, Darius Bowditch, had mastered the Ruby Shoal! Slain the infamous ruby mermaid! Claimed the most priceless of all treasures! A king’s ransom! An adventurer’s calling! All his!

He lay back, exhausted and panting, when suddenly he felt a cold chill at his feet.

He looked down, but he saw nothing. Of course he didn’t. His eyes.

He reached down and felt saltwater. The longboat had sprung a leak, broken by the constricting of the dying sea-woman’s tail. It was sinking.

Darius stared with empty eyes, his blood running in torrents down his face. As the water rose to his stiff legs, his hand brushed against the slick tail beside him. Hundreds of priceless, razor-sharp scales. A priceless fortune, all his to claim…but no eyes with which to see it.

Nevertheless, his vow was fulfilled. He had conquered this shoal, and its wicked denizen. For never a vow had he broken, as long as he had sailed.

And now, he would sail no more.