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Your crew is dead.

Your ship is motionless, save for the gentle rocking of the waves. The sirens’ torn, exposing clothing is covered in seawater and blood.

The first siren you can cradles your body. Her flesh, although it appears soft and innocent, is slimy as though covered in mucus. As her exposed breasts draw close to your skin, you feel the pinpricks of countless scales.

You draw a final breath through your nostrils and savor her scent.

Her lips caress your neck, and there is a release of warm liquid.

You are dead. The End.

Smells like Fish

Perhaps another path will let you survive The Siren’s Symphony.