cramble to keep yourselves tethered to the deck, or you'll be lost for go

h. It batters your ship, soaks your hair and skin with sa

our, that your ship will surely sink this time, th

ove, slowly drying your skin, your hair, your clothes. Your crew right themselves

, yo

ar Circe say. "

e

just under the surface of the water. Pieces of a shipwreck, pe

ake out the sunken faces, the shriveled skin, the nibbled

rceress, because she seems to know whe

These poor wretches were caught by their song. They say that the Sirens' song bestows perfect knowledge and intense pleasure.

t to be this way

s about to launch into a long and impassioned discussion of what "regular women" are or do, and there is clearly no time fo

sail around t

e currents here are such that any ship caught has to drift by their sho

o, Trahice?" he asks. "We've already survived s