In an unseasonably calm bay, the voices remained stranded. Reports surfaced from both senior fishermen and inexperienced voyagers alike - cryptic whispers filtering through the soft mist, guiding yet inexplicable.
The Sirens of lore mentioned only in hushed tones seemed to sing a new, vivid, haunting melody. "It's not beauty but solemn direction," said a local historian, cryptically. Such is life in this bifocal boundary between sight and sound, unexplored as the nocturnal coasts.