Speaker 1: Calarogu Shark Media.
Speaker 2: Welcome to Midnight Frequencies, a special Romance Weekly and Ghost
Scary Stories crossover event. This is episode two Signal Interference.
Speaker 3: The all night diner on Canal Street smells like coffee
and forgotten dreams. It's the kind of place where the
fluorescent lights flicker just enough to make you question reality,
where the waitress has seen everything and judges nothing, and
where two people can sit in a corner booth at
five am without anyone asking questions. I wrap my hands
around a cup of tea that's gone cold while I
try to process everything Kai has told me in the
last hour. According to him, im siren, not the kind
from Greek mythology that lured sailors to their deaths, but
something more complex, something that's been hiding in plain sight
for centuries. The bloodlines are ancient. Kai explains, his voice,
low enough that it won't carry to the other late
night refugees scattered around the diner. Most people think sirens
were just stories, but the truth is more complicated. Your
ancestors learned to blend in to use their gifts subtly,
a voice that could inspire trust, compel honesty, influence decisions
without anyone realizing what was happening. But what I did
tonight wasn't subtle, I say, my British accent, making the
words sound more controlled than I feel. People were confessing
things that could destroy their lives, some of them. I
can't finish the sentence. The image of those black SUVs.
Kai's grim words about deaths cross Manhattan keeps playing in
my mind. That's because your power is awakening without guidance,
Kai says, think of it like puberty, but supernatural without training,
without understanding what you are, your abilities are raw, uncontrolled.
The more you use your voice, the stronger they become,
but also the more dangerous. I take a sip of
cold tea and immediately regret it. And you know all
this because Kai hesitates, and I catch a flicker of
something vulnerable in his dark eyes. Because I'm not entirely
human either, The words hang between us like a challenge. Outside,
the first hint of dawn is creeping across the city,
turning the sky from black to deep purple. In a
few hours, people will be waking up to discover the
chaos that followed my broadcast, Families torn apart by sudden confessions, crimes, exposed,
lives ruined.
Speaker 1: What are you, I ask?
Speaker 3: I'm what's called a listener, Kai says, part of an
organization that's existed for centuries to monitor supernatural activity. My
particular gift is that I can hear frequencies that others can't,
supernatural voices, magical resonances, things that operate beyond normal human perception.
So you've been spying on me, protecting you, He corrects,
and there's an intensity in his voice that makes my
chest titan. Do you know how rare true sirens are?
Most of the bloodlines died out or went dormant generations ago.
When I started picking up your broadcast eight months ago,
I thought at first it was just someone with unusual charisma,
But gradually I realized what I was hearing.
Speaker 1: Eight months.
Speaker 3: He's been listening to me for eight months, night after night,
and I never knew The thought should be unsettling, But
instead I feel something else, a strange sense of connection,
like a frequency finally finding its match. The order I
work for, Kai continues. They have very specific protocols for
dealing with awakening sirens. Most of them involve elimination. Most
of them, there are exceptions if a siren can learn control.
If they can be guided properly, they can become valuable allies.
But the process is complicated. I study his face, noting
the way he avoids my eyes when he says complicated,
and you volunteered to be my guide. I requested the assignment. Yes,
why the question seems to catch him off guard. He
runs a hand through his dark hair, and I notice
his fingers are shaking slightly. Because eight months of listening
to your voice every night will do things to a person.
Because I couldn't bear the thought of my colleagues showing
up at your studio with orders to eliminate the threat.
Because he looks up, meeting my eyes directly, because I
think I've been falling in love with your voice since
the first night I heard it. The confession hits me
like a wave of electricity. I feel my own supernatural
frequency responding to his honesty, creating a resonance between us
that makes the air in the diner seem to shimmer.
That's not possible, I whisper, isn't it? Kai asks, You're
a siren, Lyra. Your voice is designed to create connection,
to inspire devotion. The question is whether what I feel
is real or just a supernatural compulsion. Before I can answer,
my phone buzzes a text from an unknown number. We
know where you are, the diner on Canal Street. You
have five minutes. Kai sees my expression and reaches for
the phone. Reading the message, his face goes pale. We
need to move now. How did they find us so quickly?
The order has resources you can't imagine, Kai says, dropping
money on the table and standing surveillance networks, tracking technology,
people with gifts that make mine look like parlor tricks.
We're already moving toward the back exit when the front
door chimes and three people in dark clothing walk in.
They look ordinary enough, a woman in a business suit,
two men who could be accountants. But something about the
way they move sets off every instinct I have. Don't
look back, Chuy murmurs, guiding me through the kitchen toward
the service exit, And whatever you do, don't speak unless
I tell you to. Why not, because your voice right
now is like a loaded weapon with the safety off.
Every word you speak has the potential to compel anyone
who hears it, and we don't know what commands you
might accidentally give. We slip out into an alley that
smells like grease and garbage, the November air sharp enough
to make me gasp. Behind us, I can hear voices
in the diner, calm, professional, asking the waitress questions she
probably can't answer this way, Kai says, leading me through
a maze of narrow streets that seem designed to confuse
anyone who doesn't know Soho's layout. Intimately, there's a safe
house not far from here, Somewhere we can reach group
and I can start teaching you the basics of control.
A safe house the Order maintains several in the city
for situations like this. The irony is that I'm using
their own resources to protect you from them. We walk
in silence for several blocks, sticking to shadows and side streets.
The city is starting to wake up around us, delivery
trucks rumbling past, early commuters emerging from subway stations, the
distant sound of morning news broadcasts drifting from apartment windows, Kai,
I say, finally, unable to keep quiet any longer. Those
people who called my show tonight, the ones who confessed,
who hurt themselves because of what I made them do.
Is there any way to help them? I don't know,
he says, honestly, siren compulsion is powerful, but it's not
permanent mind control. People will eventually realize that the urge
to confess came from outside themselves. The question is whether
they can live with the consequences of the truths they revealed.
The guilt sits in my chest like a physical weight.
All my life, I've used my voice to help people,
to provide comfort to insomniacs, to create a sense of
connection for the lonely, to offer a few hours of
peace in a chaotic city. The idea that this same
voice could be a weapon, could drive people to destroy
their own lives is almost unbearable. I can see you
blaming yourself, Kai says softly. Don't you didn't know what
you were, and you certainly didn't intend any harm. The
real responsibility lies with whoever should have been watching over you,
teaching you, helping you understand your heritage. My grandmother, I
realize she must have known the stories she told me
about women with powerful voices. The way she always warned
me to be careful with words, to think before I spoke.
She was trying to prepare me, wasn't she Probably? But
something happened to break that chain of knowledge. Maybe she
died too soon. Maybe she thought your abilities would remain dormant.
It's more common than you'd think for supernatural bloodlines to
skip generations. We turned down a narrow street lined with
converted warehouses, and Kai stops in front of a building
that looks abandoned. He produces a key from somewhere in
his coat and unlocks a door that's painted to look rusted,
but clearly isn't welcome to your crash course in being
a siren, he says, holding the door open, the space
yond is nothing like I expected. Instead of the sparse,
functional safe house i'd imagined, it's warm and lived in,
comfortable furniture, bookshelves lining the walls, a kitchen that looks
actually used. Soft lighting comes from lamps rather than harsh
overhead fixtures, and there's music playing quietly from hidden speakers,
something classical and soothing. You live here, I say, and
it's not a question. Sometimes when I'm working in the city.
Ki locks the door behind us and activates what looks
like a very sophisticated security system. The order thinks this
is just another safe house. They don't know I've made
it into something more personal. I walk to one of
the bookshelves, noting titles on folklore, mythology, supernatural anthropology. Mixed
in with the academic texts are novels, poetry, even some
romance paperbacks that look well read eclectic taste. I observe
eight months of listening to a late night radio DJ
will broaden your horizons, Kai says, with what might be
the first genuine smile I've seen from him. You talk
about books sometimes between songs. I started reading them. The
admission creates another one of those electric moments between us,
a recognition that this connection we're feeling has been building
for months without either of us fully realizing it.
Speaker 1: So what now, I ask? How do I learn to
control something I didn't even know I had?
Speaker 3: We start with the basics, Kai says, moving to a
table where several old books are stacked, understanding what you are,
how your abilities work, and most importantly, how to shield
other people from accidental compulsion. He opens one of the books,
revealing page is covered in what looks like ancient text
mixed with modern annotations. This is a guide to siren abilities,
compiled over centuries by various members of the order. Some
of it is probably folklore, but some of it contains
real techniques that can help you. I lean over his
shoulder to look at the pages, and immediately I'm overwhelmed
by his scent, that cedar and rain smell I noticed
on the fire escape, with undertones of something electric. This close,
I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way
his breathing changes when I'm near. The first thing you
need to understand, Kai says, his voice slightly rough, is
that siren abilities are tied to emotion and intention. When
you're calm and centered, you can speak normally without affecting anyone.
But when you're emotional, angry, frightened, passionate, your voice carries
that energy and amplifies it. That's why tonight was so intense.
I realize I was excited about the show, enjoying the
connection with callers, feeling powerful for the first time in
my life exactly, and that excitement translated into compulsion. Your
listeners felt what you were feeling and responded accordingly. I
look down at the open book, trying to focus on
the words, but all I can think about is how
close Kai is standing, how his presence seems to create
its own frequency. That harmonizes with whatever's awakening inside me.
There's something else, I say quietly. When I speak to you,
I don't feel the same charged that I felt with
the callers tonight. It's like you're somehow immune to the compulsion.
Kai very still, that's because of what I am. Listeners
have natural resistance to supernatural vocal influences. It's part of
what makes us effective at monitoring and containing threats. Is
that what I am to you a threat to be contained.
He turns to face me fully, and I can see
conflict written across his features. You were supposed to be.
My orders were to assess your abilities and either recruit
you or eliminate you, depending on the level of danger
you posed, and which am I dangerous? Kai says, without hesitation,
more dangerous than anything the Order has dealt with in decades.
Your power is raw, unformed, but incredibly strong. In the
wrong hands or without proper training, you could influence thousands
of people with a single broadcast. But you're also extraordinary,
and I don't think I could eliminate you, even if
my life depended on it. The confession hangs between us,
charged with possibility and danger. I take a step closer
close enough that I can see the flex of silver
in his dark eyes, the way his pulse beats at
his throat. What happens if the Order finds us here?
I ask, If they think I've been compromised by your influence,
they'll eliminate both of us, Kai says, which is why
we need to get your abilities under control as quickly
as possible. You need to be able to demonstrate that
you can be trusted, that you won't use your voice
to manipulate or harm innocent people. And if I can't
learn control, Kai's expression grows grim, then I'll have to
make a choice between my duty to the order, and
he pauses, seeming to struggle with the words you're what
my feelings for you, which may or may not be real,
but feel more genuine than anything I've experienced in decades
of service. The admission creates a resonance between us so
strong that I can actually feel it, like a tuning
fork struck in my chest, vibrating through my bones and
into the air around us. For a moment, the space
between us shimmers with visible energy. Did you see that,
I whisper, I've felt it, Kai says, that's what happens
when two supernatural frequencies aligne it's he swallows hard. It's
not something I've experienced before. Before I can respond, alarms
start blaring throughout the building, red lights flash from hidden panels,
and Kai's expression shifts immediately into something cold and professional.
They've found us, he says, moving to what I thought
was a decorative mirror, but as apparently some kind of
surveillance monitor. Three teams surrounding the building. We have maybe
two minutes before they breach the entrance. How is that possible?
I thought this place was secret. It was, which means
either they've been tracking us more closely than I realized,
or Kai's face goes pale, or someone in the order
knows about my feelings for you and set this up.
Speaker 1: As a test, a test of what.
Speaker 3: To see if I'll choose duty, or he looks at
me with something that might be desperation. Lyra, I need
you to listen very carefully. In about ninety seconds, armed
agents are going to come through that door with orders
to either capture or kill you. The only way you
survive this is if you use your voice. But you
said I couldn't control it, said you couldn't control it.
Speaker 1: Safely.
Speaker 3: But right now, safety isn't an option. Ky pull's weapons
from hidden compartments, guns, but also things that look like
they belong in a science fiction movie. I'm going to
teach you the most dangerous technique in the Sien Arsenal.
It's called a command voice, and it can compel absolute
obedience from anyone who hears it. I can't, You can,
and you will because it's the only way we both
live through the next five minutes. Kai's voice is urgent
but calm, and I can hear his listener abilities in
the way he speaks, every word chosen for maximum impact.
When I tell you, you're going to speak in the deepest,
most authoritative tone.
Speaker 1: You can manage.
Speaker 3: You're going to put every ounce of intention and in
into your voice, and you're going to command them to stop,
to drop their weapons, to forget they ever saw us.
What if I make them hurt themselves? What if I
accidentally then we deal with the consequences later, Kai says firmly,
right now, the alternative is that we both die, and
your voice dies with us. At least this way you
have a chance to learn proper control. The sound of
footsteps echoes in the stairwell outside, heavy boots, multiple sets,
moving with military precision. Lyra Kai says, and there's something
in his voice that I've never heard before, not just urgency,
but genuine fear. Whatever happens in the next few minutes,
I need you to know that what I feel for
you isn't just supernatural compulsion.
Speaker 1: It's real.
Speaker 3: You're real, and I would rather die protecting you than
live knowing I let the order to destroy you before
I can respond. The door explodes inward in a shower
of splinters and smoke. Dark figures pour through the opening,
weapons raised, faces hidden behind tactical gear, and somewhere in
the chaos, I find my voice. It comes from deeper
in my chest than I've ever spoken before, carrying power
that makes the air itself seem to vibrate. When I speak,
every person in the room stops moving, their attention focused
entirely on me with an intensity that's almost terrifying. But
what I say and what happens next will either save
us both or damn us forever.