1. Ecco

1

ECCO

E ven after a week of sold-out live appearances, it's hard to believe I'm actually here, meeting one of my heroes.

I'm nestled on a well-worn leather couch across from the effortlessly cool Liam Blackwood, host of mega-hit podcast "Soundwaves." I've been a die-hard fan of this podcast for years—to be featured on it now that my debut album dropped two weeks ago is beyond surreal.

The studio walls around me are plastered with autographed posters of legendary bands, their edges curling with age. A lava lamp glows softly in the corner, casting ethereal shapes. The huge headphones I'm wearing dull the surrounding sounds.

"So Ecco, tell me about your creative process as a siren." Liam leans forward, eyes warm and curious. "How might it differ from a human musician's approach?"

I chew my lip, considering.

"As a siren, I've often felt torn between worlds." The words spill out in a rush. "Especially over the past year, as my music has gained fans in the human lands. It's like—I'm straddling this line, you know? But I've realized my creative process is all about embracing that duality. Owning my voice and believing it deserves to be heard."

Liam nods, jotting a note. "And the magic that's rumored to weave into your music... Can you speak to that?"

I wince internally. This line of questioning always feels like a setup, an accusation waiting to happen.

It's been weird to gain fame here in the human lands, away from the magical enclave where I grew up. Prejudices against magical beings and monsters run deep in this part of the world, and I know I have a lot of privilege because I can pass as almost human in appearance.

Outside the booth's glass window, my manager Natalie watches intently. She gives an encouraging thumbs up, and I take a deep breath.

"It's taken years of training to hone my powers to this point, to be able to infuse my songs with a vibe, a feeling, without outright enchanting people." I gain confidence with each word. "I've worked hard for that control and I'm proud of how far I've come."

"It's certainly a deviation from what sirens are typically known for," Liam muses. His tone is neutral, but anxiety still tightens in my chest.

"Yes, that's true. Sirens have this dangerous reputation, right? Luring humans to their doom with an irresistible voice." I laugh, hoping it doesn't sound shaky, and meet his gaze directly. "I've always wanted to show the world that we're so much more than that stereotype. If my music can make even one person feel seen, like they belong, then I know I'm on the right path."

Liam smiles, clearly moved by my heartfelt words.

"That's a beautiful sentiment, Ecco. And it seems to be resonating with listeners—‘Siren's Call' has already broken streaming records and shot to the top of the charts in multiple genres." He leans back, studying me. "How are you handling this sudden surge of fame?"

I pause, considering the question. It's all happened so fast that I'm not sure I even know how I feel about it yet, much less how to put it into words.

"It's been a whirlwind, that's for sure." I fidget with the hem of my dress, choosing my next words carefully. "I'm so grateful for the support, but it's also a lot of pressure. And I worry about losing touch with my roots, the people and places that shaped me."

My hometown of Elderberry Falls rises in my mind, warming me: the cozy streets, the scent of magic on the breeze, late nights giggling with my best friend Mariah. Moving away happened so quickly that I barely processed it, and now whenever I think about home, I feel a dull ache.

Thankfully, I'll be back there soon.

Liam glances at the clock, clearly realizing our time is running short.

"Well, Ecco, we could talk about the magic of your music all day. However, we should probably pause for a quick word from our sponsors." He glances down at his notes. "When we return, let's dive into the collaborations you have planned for your upcoming tour—there are some exciting guests in the mix!"

I nod enthusiastically, my blue hair bouncing, as Liam queues up the pre-recorded ad. I can hardly wait to talk about the talented musicians I'll be sharing a stage with soon. For a blissful moment, the pressure I've been under lately fades away, replaced with pure excitement.

The rest of the interview flies by. As we wrap up, Liam reaches over to clasp my hand.

"Ecco, I just want to thank you again for coming on the show today. Listening to this album has been such a bright spot for me personally over these past few weeks—not to get corny, but the way your voice soars lifts my spirits. It's pretty awesome to get to experience some magic for myself."

I blush, overwhelmed by his praise.

"That means so much, truly," I tell him. "Thank you for having me."

We snap a quick selfie together for social media, both grinning ear to ear, before I gather my things and head out of the booth, still in a bit of a daze.

In the studio lobby, Natalie practically tackles me with a fierce hug, her expensive and tasteful perfume wafting over me.

"You crushed it, honey! I'm so proud of you." She holds me at arm's length, her eyes shining with pride and affection. "The way you handled those questions about your magic? Absolute perfection."

I laugh, feeling simultaneously untethered by the surreality of the moment and anchored by Natalie's support.

Despite our different backgrounds—Natalie's a city girl who has never even been to the magical realms—she means the world to me. Natalie scouted me from afar after a video of one of my performances at Mariah's inn went viral. After nine months of me commuting, Natalie convinced me to move here and has been holding my hand through every step of the process.

We've grown so close over the past year as she's guided me through the twists and turns of this industry.

Natalie leads me to our waiting chauffeured car, whipping out her tablet and rattling off the dizzying lineup of press appearances scheduled for the coming weeks. Photo shoots, talk shows, radio spots, industry parties...

I'm acutely aware of how few people get to live out their wildest dreams like this, how lucky I am.

But underneath, weariness is already starting to tug at me. What I wouldn't give for a quiet weekend curled up with a mug of tea and an old favorite book...

I say none of this to Natalie, though.

Instead, I plaster on my smile and nod along as she describes a particularly high-profile magazine interview, doing my best to focus.

The car glides to a stop in front of my building and I thank the driver before stepping out onto the sunlit sidewalk. Tipping my head back, I gaze up at the sleek glass and steel tower stretching overhead.

My new home, although it still doesn't quite feel that way.

It's still weird, living in this mundane city. I know I'm the only magical being living in this entire building. It's obvious from the lingering looks other residents give me, like they know there's something not quite human about me, but they can't figure it out.

I make my way through the gleaming marble-clad lobby, waving to the concierge, then step into a high-tech elevator. It zooms upwards to the 15th floor in silence and moments later, I'm turning the key in my front door.

My pet glowkitten, Minx, greets me at the door with a happy meow. She winds her tiny body around my ankles and I bend down to pet her soft white fur. Even though she's seventeen years old—glowkittens live for decades—Minx is the size of a young cat and has the energy of one too.

She's one of the few reminders of home in this apartment. I've had Minx since I was a tween. Mariah found her as a stray and tried to sneak her into the inn where she lived. She was quickly caught.

I was all too happy to take Minx instead, and my dad—who was in the middle of his divorce from my mom—didn't feel like he could say no. She's been my constant companion ever since.

Stepping inside, I pause to survey the sprawling, modern space with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city skyline. By all accounts, it's a dream apartment.

And yet...

It's too sterile, too impersonal. I moved in three months ago, but between the whirlwind of the album release and the press tour, I've barely had a chance to infuse it with my own flair.

A few moving boxes still sit in the corner, waiting to be unpacked. Generic artwork that came with the place hangs on the walls.

Sighing, I kick off my heels and pad barefoot into the kitchen. I miss the cozy, lived-in charm of Elderberry Falls, with its crooked cobblestone streets and quaint little shops. Places like the Moonflower Inn, where the air always smells of cinnamon and every nook seems to hold a story.

Lost in my musings, I almost miss the gentle knock on the door.

Frowning, I glance at the clock—is it already 6 pm? I invited Lori, Mariah's mom, to come over for a drink and talk about wedding planning.

I hastily grab a bottle of wine out of the fridge and two glasses, setting them down on the counter before hustling to get the door.

"Ecco! My favorite rock star!" Lori stands beaming at my doorstep, her dark hair—so similar to Mariah's—pulled back in a loose bun.

In her hands she holds a colorful gift bag and a familiar tin that sends a pang of homesickness straight to my heart: seaweed cookies from the Moonflower's cafe, a specialty you just can't find in the human lands.

Lori walks inside, wide eyes taking in the soaring ceilings and wall of windows.

"Oh honey," she breathes. "Would you look at that view? And this kitchen, it's bigger than my whole downstairs!"

I trail after her, grinning as she "oohs" and "aahs" over the smart fridge and marble countertops. It's nice to see someone appreciating the place… especially since I'm still not sure I like it all that much.

Lori doesn't seem to notice my ambivalence, though. She sets down her gift on the kitchen island, then turns to cup my face in her palms, green eyes shining.

"I'm so proud of you, kiddo," she tells me. "I always knew you were meant for something special."

A tidal wave of emotion washes through me, undoubtedly heightened by both exhaustion and homesickness. My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, giving Lori a smile. It means so much to hear her say that; she's been practically a surrogate mother to me all these years.

"Now, let's talk about wedding details!" she says, pulling out a stool. "I can't believe it's only a week and a half away. How are you feeling about your bridesmaid duties? And your song, of course!"

We spend the next hour sitting at the kitchen island, munching seaweed cookies, sipping wine, and going over the minute details of the big day. I'm thrilled to be one of Mariah's two bridesmaids, alongside her soon-to-be sister-in-law, Gruna. But even as we chat, guilt gnaws at my stomach.

"I feel awful that I haven't been around more to help," I confess, toying with a crumb on my plate. "Some maid of honor I am, huh? Is there anything else I can do, even from a distance?"

Lori reaches over to pat my hand reassuringly. "Honestly, Ecco, everything is set. We all know how busy you are. Don't worry about a thing."

She slides a piece of paper across the counter—it's the wedding timeline, with my surprise slotted in: a new song I wrote just for Mariah and Thorak's first dance. I trace my finger over the schedule entry, mentally running through the lyrics that I only just finalized.

"Mariah is going to be so moved," Lori says softly. "Your friendship means the world to her, Ecco."

I nod, blinking back tears. Music has always been the language of my heart, the truest way I know how to express my feelings. Pouring my love for Mariah into this song, into this moment... I just hope it can convey even a fraction of what she means to me.

We chat a bit longer, and the late evening light starts to slant low across the hardwood floors. I can see Lori stifling a yawn behind her hand.

"I should probably let you get settled," she says reluctantly, glancing at her watch. "I know you must be wiped, and we can talk more about details on the phone if we need to."

We both stand, and I walk her to the door, hugging her tightly. "Thank you for coming, Lori. And for the gift, and the cookies, and just... everything."

She squeezes me back, rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades. "Anytime, sweetie. We love you so much. Never forget that, okay?"

With a final wave, she disappears down the hall, leaving me alone once more in the cavernous silence of the apartment. I lean my forehead against the door, eyes closed.

Then I straighten up and survey the space—the unpacked boxes, the impersonal decor. Lori's visit has sparked renewed resolve. I may not be home in Elderberry Falls with my best friend, but I can still carve out a space here that is true to me.

Rolling up my sleeves, I set to work, putting on a classic vinyl record and letting the music carry me away as I start to unpack and nest.

As night falls, I pause to survey my handiwork.

The housewarming gift from Lori, a beautiful hand-blown vase in swirling shades of blue and violet, now sits proudly on the mantel. My favorite patchwork quilt, stitched by Mariah's great-aunt and imbued with the faintest trace of our elf friend Laurelle's calming magic, is draped over the back of the couch, making the austere lines a bit more inviting.

Suddenly starving, I heat up some leftover takeout from the fridge and wolf it down. Tossing the container into the recycling bin, I reflect on how many meals I've already eaten alone in this place, then brush the thought aside.

No use dwelling on how lonely I am in this colorless apartment and this strange city. Better to remember that I'm living out a fantasy. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

I brew a mug of my favorite elderberry flower tea and carry it with me to my bedroom, excited to sink into the plush embrace of my brand new king-size mattress.

Sleep proves elusive.

I toss and turn, the too-crisp sheets tangling around my restless legs. The mattress is firmer than I'm used to, and the distant wail of police sirens jars me awake every time it starts up again. The city sounds are a big contrast to the crickets and frog song that used to drift through my bedroom window back home.

Sighing, I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. I have a twinge of disquiet that I can't quite shake, and I try to pinpoint what it is.

I'm over the moon for Mariah, truly, but there's a tiny, selfish bit of me that fears losing my best friend to the whirlwind of married life. I'm already so far away from everything I know. Everything is changing so fast, and I?—

A sudden, sharp hiss shatters the too-still silence of the room, and I bolt upright with a gasp.

Minx is perched atop the dresser, her snowy fur bristling, her eyes luminous in the darkness. She's starting to emit the green glow that means she can sense a threat. A chill runs down my spine as I follow her gaze to the left side of my bed, my breath catching in my throat at the sight that greets me.

There, materializing from the shadows like a nightmare made flesh, is a figure that can only be described as unutterably wrong .

Elongated limbs, skin too smooth and featureless to be quite human, but not resembling any monster I've ever seen, either. Its eyes make my blood run cold—strange, depthless pools of obsidian black.

And then it starts to move.

There's a horrifying being in my apartment. And it's coming straight for me.