The legend hung in the air long after we left the café—soft, persistent, settling somewhere between the back of my mind and the pit of my stomach.
Mira kicked a pebble as we walked. "So. A mermaid."
"Allegedly," I corrected.
"A singing mermaid."
"A singing something."
She shrugged. "Honestly? At this point I'd take anything that isn't another 'no, everything is perfectly peaceful' speech."
[Children's tales often hide slivers of truth.]
Aetherion's tone was thoughtful, almost amused.
[Though usually the truth is much uglier than the telling.]
'You're really comforting today.'
[You're welcome.]
We continued along the sun-drenched street, passing a pottery shop, then a tiny stationery store with paper cranes hanging in the window. The town was awake now—really awake. Kids ran laughing from the park, carrying paper boats they'd folded themselves. Dogs barked lazily. Someone played guitar near a bakery, low and off-key but warm.
Nothing about Pale Shore felt like the place we'd seen yesterday.
Nothing felt like a place with a hidden core swallowing people whole.
Which somehow made it worse.
"So," Mira said after a moment, "we should meet back with Silva and Theo soon. Compare notes. See if they found anything."
"Hope they had better luck."
"I doubt it."
I sighed, then shaded my eyes from the sunlight. "Okay, but hear me out. What if we're going about this wrong? Maybe the old folks don't know anything because the legends aren't old."
Mira blinked. "You're saying the urban legends are… new urban legends."
"Yeah. Like, something that started recently. Something only younger people talk about."
"And the older residents just don't engage with it." She hummed. "That actually makes sense. Younger folks are online more. If something weird happened, they'd be the ones talking about it."
"And they'd probably talk about it in—"
"—blogs, forums, group chats—"
"—all the digital places Silva hates—"
"—and all the places Theo forgets passwords to—"
We both snorted.
But then Mira slowed, brows furrowing. "Wait. If we need info from younger people… why haven't we seen many around?"
I scanned the street.
Sure—there were kids, but kids weren't helpful. Teenagers? Young adults?
Barely any.
The few we'd spotted earlier had headphones in, eyes down, passing by with that specific "I don't want to be perceived" energy. Not exactly approachable.
"That's weird," Mira muttered. "A town this size should have more young adults out in the morning."
"Maybe they work outside the town?"
"Maybe."
She didn't sound convinced.
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed.
Silva.
〔Meet us at the riverside promenade. Found something. Not urgent.〕
Mira raised a brow. "Not urgent?"
"Which means it's either incredibly harmless or incredibly annoying."
"Place your bets?"
"I'm hoping harmless."
[It will be annoying,] Aetherion declared, sounding far too sure.
'You don't even know what it is.'
[And yet I am always right.]
Mira rolled her eyes at my expression. "are you bullying yourself again?"
"It's called thinking."
"Yup, Bullying yourself."
We took a turn down a narrow alley that opened closer to the riverside district. This part of the town was brighter, busier—rows of pastel balconies facing the water, vendors setting up crepe stands, couples walking hand-in-hand.
And standing beneath a shade tree, Silva and Theo waited.
Theo waved his hand at us like a greeting flag. "There you are!"
Mira stared. "Missed us that badly?"
"i was worried, actually! Who's supposed to protect you two when big T isn't around?"
Silva ignored him completely—focused, arms folded, expression calm but sharp.
"What's up?" I asked.
"Our survey yielded similar answers to before," she said. "Nothing suspicious. No known disappearances. No recognized anomalies."
"Normal, normal, normal," Theo added. "Like clockwork."
Silva nodded. "But there's a pattern in the lack of information."
"A pattern in the nothing?" Mira asked.
"Yes. While Theo asked around, I cross-checked the old missing-persons reports with current residency logs."
Theo made a face. "She hacked faster than I asked the around, by the way."
"I didn't hack anything," Silva said crisply. "I used my clearance."
She pointed at her phone. "The majority of the people listed as missing were between ages sixteen and twenty-four. There are a few older cases as well, but that age range is the largest cluster."
[Interesting! An Anomaly with a type. How scandalous. Do you think it wants to host a dating show?]
I ignored the voice buzzing in my head.
'Checks out with our theory from earlier. Young adults. Limited presence in town. But what about—'
"Children," I blurted out, turning toward Silva. "Are there any children missing?"
Silva's expression tightened—just slightly.
She glanced back at her phone, thumb flicking across the screen, jaw set in that subtle "I hoped you wouldn't ask that yet" way she did when she was still forming a conclusion.
Theo lowered his pastry.
Mira straightened beside me.
Silva finally exhaled. "No children are listed as missing. Not one."
The relief I expected didn't come.
If anything, my stomach twisted tighter.
"That's good… right?" Theo asked hesitantly.
Silva shook her head. "It means the pattern is too clean. Too intentional. And anomalies that act with intention rarely do so for benevolent reasons."
We all fell silent.
Even the river seemed quieter for a moment.
A breeze rustled the leaves above us.
[Ah… now that is interesting,] Aetherion purred.
[Selective predation. Purposeful omission. A refined appetite.]
'Stop making it sound like a dinner menu.'
[You're no fun.]
Silva slipped her phone into her pocket. "We resume the search. We'll continue widening the radius but talk to younger and older residents. They might hold the missing pieces."
Theo nodded, finishing his pastry in one dramatic bite. "Right. So—do we split up again or stay together?"
"Together," Silva said firmly. "For now. Until we understand the behavioral boundaries."
Mira muttered under her breath, "Translation: things just got creepier."
We started down the riverside walkway together, weaving back into the bustle of the district. Pale Shore gleamed in the early afternoon light—picturesque, calm, smiling.
But underneath that calm?
Something was wrong.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
Not violent.
Just… wrong.
The kind of wrong that hides beneath warm sunlight and cheerful greetings.
The kind that waits.
The kind that chooses.
And we had only begun to understand its appetite.
We moved on from the riverside benches and slipped deeper into the town, weaving through narrow streets that looked almost too clean for a place with a reputation for vanishing people. The morning sun had fully settled in by now, spilling warm gold over the rooftops. It felt… peaceful. Which was unsettling in its own way.
Mira approached the next group—four elderly women sitting at a small public table, folding paper fans despite the weather being mild enough not to need them.
"Excuse me," Mira began, voice soft and polite, "could we ask you a quick question?"
Three of the women glanced over. The fourth kept her eyes closed, rocking gently in her chair like she was listening to some music no one else could hear.
"Yes, dear?" one with silver curls asked.
"We're collecting information about older stories related to the town. Things like… urban legends, or odd rumors. Anything people used to say when you were younger."
"Oh?" She blinked. "Urban legends? Hm… nothing comes to mind, but let me think."
The others exchanged looks—shrugs, tiny puzzled frowns.
"Maybe the baker across the plaza," another offered. "He tells stories sometimes. Most of them nonsense, but entertaining."
"That's a start," Theo whispered.
I nodded politely as Mira thanked them. We walked away.
Still nothing.
Which is either very good… or very, very bad.
[Very, very boring,] Aetherion chimed dryly. [You would think a town rumored for disappearances could at least offer a ghost story. Or a haunted broom. I'd take anything at this point.]
'You can't haunt a broom.'
[You absolutely can. I've met a broom with more personality than half the anomalies you've seen.]
'That explains a concerning amount about you.'
[Rude.]
Theo stretched his arms behind his head. "Man, I thought old people were supposed to have all the stories. You know—'back in my day, the shadows used to whisper,' that kind of thing."
"Theo," Mira sighed, "stop stereotyping grandmothers."
"I wasn't!" he protested. "I just… hoped."
Chief Silva pretended not to hear us, studying the map on her phone. "Let's keep moving. There's a corner café up ahead; usually older residents gather outside."
The café was already lively—men playing cards, someone reading a newspaper, the smell of roasted beans drifting like a cozy blanket over the small patio.
Perfect.
We spread out just a little, staying within Silva's line of sight.
I approached a man in his seventies, smoking a pipe carved from dark wood.
"Good morning," I greeted.
He nodded politely but kept his focus on the card game.
"Sorry to disturb—do you know anything about stories or rumors from this town? Old tales people used to talk about?"
"Huh." He scratched his chin. "Stories? Not really. Quiet place. Always has been."
Another man chimed in without looking up from his cards. "The only rumor here is that the mayor can't cook. That's it."
Laughter rippled through the table.
Behind me, Theo was trying with a different group.
"So… disappearances? Strange sightings at night?"
One older man waved a hand dismissively. "Son, if someone disappeared, they probably just moved to the next town over for cheaper rent."
"Right. Of course." Theo forced a smile.
Even Mira, normally brilliant at talking to people, seemed to hit the same wall everywhere.
"No stories?" she repeated incredulously to a pair of elderly women knitting on a bench.
"Stories?" one echoed. "Oh dear, you must be thinking of some other place. We're quiet folk."
Quiet. Calm. Ordinary.
All of it almost suspiciously so.
'None of this adds up,' I thought silently.
[No, but your face trying to stay polite while being lied to is delightful.]
'I'm not sure they're lying.'
[Oh, come on.] Aetherion sounded amused, possibly offended at the boredom. [A town this old always has stories. If not legends, then gossip. If not gossip, then grudges. If not grudges, then someone's embarrassing childhood incident involving a chicken. But nothing?]
'I get it. It's weird.'
[Weirdly suspicious. Also—have you noticed they avoid specifics? They don't say "no legends exist," they say "not that I remember" or "quiet town." It's… slippery wording.]
He had a point.
Unfortunately.
Theo regrouped with us. "Okay. I'm starting to think the town has collectively decided to gaslight us."
"You can't accuse an entire population of gaslighting you," Mira said.
"You absolutely can," Theo replied, "I just did."
Chief Silva rubbed her forehead. "Let's keep moving. We haven't tried the northern street yet."
We headed down another cobblestone path, lined with flower pots and cute little shops selling hand-crafted trinkets. Families strolled peacefully. Kids chased a ball. Two cats slept in a sunbeam like they were paid actors.
The kind of peaceful that feels… rehearsed.
Aetherion clicked his tongue in my mind.
[Something here is pretending to be fragile and harmless. Nothing that looks this peaceful ever actually is.]
'You're not helping.'
[I am helping. I'm providing ambiance.]
'Unwanted ambiance.'
[You wound me.]
We kept asking.
And kept getting nothing.
Old stories?
Forgotten.
Legends?
Not really.
Disappearances?
People travel, you know how it is.
After another half hour of that, we paused beneath the shade of a tall, leafy tree.
Theo sighed dramatically. "Okay. I'm calling it. This town is allergic to sharing information."
Mira exhaled slowly. "It's strange… they all answer so casually. No nervousness. No hesitation."
"Or they've rehearsed it," I muttered.
Silva didn't deny it. "We keep going. Someone has to know something."
Aetherion hummed faintly.
[Or someone is very determined that no one does.]
And with that quiet, needling thought lingering at the edges of my mind, we moved on to the next cluster of townsfolk—still searching, still coming up empty.
Still waiting for the first crack in the façade.