They go to the kitchen, where a black, yellow, and orange striped siren is patiently waiting.

They continued down several more aisles, stone mausoleums flanking them.

"What?"

The siren calmly stands; she's kept her legs instead of changing to a tail. "Hello, Oberon." She has a thick accent, but a soft, extremely feminine voice.

Lise didn't say anything.

"Where's my daughter?"

Finally, they came to a small stone mausoleum with an ancient cross perched on the roof and a simple wooden door, nothing fancy or extravagant. The tiny plaque on the wall was so faded it was impossible to read.

She calls to someone else in the house. After a short moment, a jet-black siren comes in, carrying Isiea, who's unconscious but unharmed.

"Now give her here."

She stared up at it. " Is what we're looking for here? "

The siren flicks her tail, and Isiea stirs and wakes up. The jet black siren lets go of her.

"An older couple, no one important," he replied, running his fingers down the faded surface as if he could sense what was on the other side. Narrowing his eyes, he glanced back at Lise. "Get up here, now."



Oberon watches