The Coral Crown: Daughters of Siren's Reef

Delilah's POV

Siren's Reef only breeds women.

On this isolated island, Henrietta's orphanage takes in all fatherless girls. She raises us until our eighteenth birthday—the night of the "Coral Crowning," an annual coming-of-age ritual that supposedly earns the Sea God's blessing.

My sister Saffron and I are identical twins, raised wearing the exact same face.

But on this island, the same face doesn't spell the same fate. She was the one Henrietta spoiled from birth; I was the one allowed to trail behind her.

I thought it would always be this way. Until she died. Henrietta claimed Saffron broke the rules and was flayed alive by the serrated edges of the reef. But that day, I saw it with my own eyes: Saffron's signature dimple had appeared on Henrietta's cheek—where none had been before.

"Why can't I go to the Coral Crowning? If I can't go, Delilah can't either!"

Saffron’s shrill voice echoed through the orphanage tower.

I lowered my eyes, offering no resistance. Here on Siren's Reef, Saffron wore my face but hoarded an affection I could never touch.

Today was our eighteenth birthday. It meant we were finally eligible for the ceremony. Rumor had it that stepping through the heavy oak doors deep inside the orphanage guaranteed the Sea God's absolute blessing.

Sitting in her velvet high-back chair, Henrietta leaned on her cane. A sickly-sweet smile crept across her face, which looked no older than sixty.

"Of course, my sweet girl. If you don't want your sister to attend, you shall both stay in your room." She reached out, stroking Saffron's pale blonde curls.

Saffron gloated. But my instincts flared—the look in Henrietta's eyes wasn’t maternal affection. It was a raw, ravenous greed.

At dusk, as the Coral Crowning began, Saffron dragged me into the shadows outside those oak doors.

Young women in pure white dresses lined up, trembling as they walked in, emerging one by one.

A chill crawled up my spine.

The girls who came out were transformed.

Their cheeks were flushed deep red, eyes glazed and unfocused. Some couldn't stand straight, walking with thighs squeezed together and knees knocking. Beneath their linen dresses, shocking damp stains seeped through.

"What exactly is going on in there?" Saffron bit her lip, a spark of manic curiosity igniting in her eyes.

The door creaked open again. Constance walked out.

Constance, known for her cold, rebellious demeanor and sharp tongue, often clashed with my sister and me. She was our age, but her icy blue-grey eyes now revealed a hazy pool of lust.

She leaned heavily against the wall, panting. Her dark brown hair clung to her forehead in sweaty strands, a deeply satisfied smirk on her lips.

Saffron couldn't hold back anymore. She lunged forward, grabbing Constance by the shoulders. "Tell me! What happened in there? Why does every single one of you walk out looking like a bitch in heat?"

Constance slowly lifted her eyelids, her voice soft and drippingly sensual—a tone I had never heard from her before.

She laughed, breathless, and leaned close to Saffron's ear.

"We're just… doing something very, very fun."

She pushed Saffron away, leaving my sister utterly bewildered and the hair on my arms standing straight up, before stumbling off down the corridor.

By midnight, the island was suffocatingly quiet, save for the roar of waves crashing against the cliffs.

Saffron threw off my covers, yanking me out of bed. "Keep watch. I'm going to see what’s behind that door."

"You're out of your mind!" I hissed, wrapping my fingers tightly around her wrist. "Henrietta explicitly forbade us from going near there—she'll kill us!"

"If you won't go, I will." She ripped her hand away, threw on her nightgown, and bolted out the door.

I ground my teeth. Through the vanity mirror, the face identical to hers still held my terror. If she went down, she’d drag me with her. Barefoot, holding my breath, I followed.

The air in the orphanage smelled strongly of Siren Coral—a unique, metallic scent like clotted, sweet blood.

The moment I reached the end of the stone steps, my heart seized tight.

Behind the door, there were sounds.

Saffron’s irrepressible, high-pitched moans. Every syllable dragged out with a wet, trembling, and utterly pliable weight. It sounded like extreme agony, yet simultaneously like a woman driven insane by blinding pleasure.

"Saffron!" Forgetting the rules, I threw myself at the heavy oak doors, shoving hard.

They were bolted from the inside.

"Open up! Saffron!" I growled through the crack.

"Don't… don't come in—" Her voice wavered into a desperate gasp. "Delilah… I'm fine… Ah! It’s… it’s too deep…"

Before she could finish, the wet, rhythmic slapping of flesh against flesh sped up, growing louder, mingling with the heavy, animalistic grunts of someone exhaling.

I couldn't take it anymore. Like a maniac, I skirted around to the abandoned storage room next door, pried the iron grate off a ventilation shaft, and peered fiercely through the high crack in the wall.

Cold sweat instantly soaked my back.

Through the narrow slit, I could only see Saffron straddling something, bucking wildly and completely naked. Her pale blonde hair, slick with sweat, clung like wet ropes down her spine. Her smooth shoulder blades heaved in a frantic rhythm, while her narrow waist dipped deeply, only to be thrust violently back up by a powerful, unseen force.