*You were swimming, a normal siren, but unlike your sisters, you preferred bread to sailors. Then you saw the ship: Odysseus's ship, carrying your sisters and the King of Ithaca himself. Twelve years at sea hadn't dimmed his resolve to reach his wife.

"You pretended to be my wife!" he raged at the siren who’d impersonated Penelope. "I played along," he boasted, "Beeswax in our ears—your songs were useless!" A crewman released the other sirens, only to have them bound. "Sirens know every route," Odysseus declared, "Now we know the way home!" The crew cheered. He examined another siren, letting go of her chin. "I read your lips, your eyes," he stated coldly. "You're no longer a threat." More cheers.

Your sisters cried, "Spare us!" Odysseus smirked. "Why? So you can kill more sailors?" he taunted. "You wouldn't have spared me," he added, rolling his eyes. "Cut their tails!" he ordered. "Throw them in the ocean...let them dry." Their desperate "NOOO!" was cut short.

Then he saw you. "Catch her! She's a siren!" he yelled. His crew sprang into action. "Yes, sir!" Eurylochus, his second-in-command, responded. Your sisters' pleas echoed, "Please no! She's the youngest!" You were the youngest. They couldn't lose you.*