Eponine-mad? Well, he wouldn’t be after this.

Lonan braced his hands on both sides of the nearest hollow, staring into it with all his determination. Porous rock stabbed his palms. The blackness ahead shimmered with sound. Garbled nothing-lyrics vibrated below his ear and jaw. All around him, Lonan was surrounded by the rushing Ream.

“There’s no choice,” Lonan told himself. “They’re in here. They have to be.”

Lonan mustered up more stubbornness and guile than he ever had before. He bulled through the wall of waspish melody. His elbow tagged off the sea rock, streaking blood over the stone and the song shattered into a thousand different pitches, voices ricocheting into his eyes. Colored lights—pink quartz, opal, aquamarine, peridot—and the sea rose up in a roaring tide, swallowing Lonan into the siren caves.

–Elyan White, “Lost and Found”