Prompt from "Competitive Journeys" (@WattpadSpiritual): Take something that is a flaw and turn it into the most amazing superpower ever! Give us a story about an Avenger-like person defeating evil using this superpower.

Author's note: The following is an excerpt from the novella "Destiny Unbonded", with some changes for clarity.

Story wordcount = 844

My feet now tread in the Forbidden Lands, something before I would never have considered, such before was my obedience to the Gods. It was exhilarating, but also terrifying. A lifetime of indoctrination was not an easy thing to cast off. What if the tales of monsters and peril were true? But there were no signs of such. The plants and rocks seemed normal enough, the sky held the same blueness, birds still tweeted the same songs, and the wildflowers were every bit as colorful.

We descended through a scrubby forest, weaving around tumbled piles of boulders and steep-sided washes. As the sun rose high in the sky, we took off our cloaks. Kit, Cyril's little sister, bounced along, hopping from rock to rock and examining anything of interest along the way, apparently unconcerned about what laid ahead. I wish I had her enthusiasm.

I took a few moments to study the girl as we walked along. Deaf and mute, most would consider her disability a curse from the Gods. In fact, Cyril and her father had found her years earlier discarded and starving, but took her in, fully loved as sister or daughter. With her bountiful joy, she seemed not to consider herself so disabled.

"Are you well, Ophelia?" Cyril asked, raising a concerned eyebrow.

"Quite well." I answered, shaking myself from wandering thoughts.

After rounding a massive red boulder, a gentle song, barely audible above the rustling leaves, came to my ears. "Do you hear that?"

"Yes." Cyril stopped to listen. "It sounds like singing. How can that be?" He spoke to Kit in their silent sign language and she just shrugged.

The song grew louder as we went along, becoming a soaring aria accompanied by the wind, ethereal and pure, intoxicating, compelling us onward. Cyril walked at my side, his face expressionless, as if in a trance. Unhearing, Kit wrinkled her forehead at our compulsion.

It promised eternal peace, rest for weary souls, joy in place of sorrow, but somehow, I knew the song was as false as the Gods' will. Despite a deep part of me shouting a warning, it became everything, driving us to its source.

We emerged from the scrubby trees to a rocky bluff. Ahead, on a boulder at the cliff edge, perched a strange creature made of white alabaster. The singer had the body of a slender woman, long folded wings at her back, and legs like a bird. My heart raced and my gut twisted as I recognized this monster, one constructed by the Gods - a Siren! Despite naming the beast, my legs would still not obey my desperate commands to stop.

Kit tugged at her brother, then at me, imploring us with wide teary eyes to break free of the Siren spell, but it did no good. In perhaps my last willful act, I pulled out the glass long-knife from my satchel, a gift from the Gods before my betrayal, and dropped it at Kit's feet.

The Siren put on a sinister smirk at our plight, eager for the kill. The song continued, its sweetness now sickening, and we marched involuntarily to the cliff edge. I wanted to tell Cyril I was sorry, and to thank him for opening my eyes to the truth and for showing me undeserved compassion, but my voice no more obeyed my commands than my feet. We came to the edge of a sheer drop and I turned my eyes down to the sun-bleached bones of previous victims scattered among the jagged rocks far below.

Then, inexplicably, the Siren released her treacherous hold on us, the song replaced by a piercing screech. Free from the spell, we swung our heads around to see Kit furiously hacking at the Siren's torso with my glass knife, chipping off hunks of white rock. Enraged, the Siren backhanded the girl, sending her tumbling across the rocky ground.

In swift action, Cyril drew his obsidian knife and charged, gritting his teeth in rage. He closed the distance to the Siren in a heartbeat. The knife slashed, plunging into the Siren's body. Her alabaster body ruptured into fragments of white gravel, falling to the ground in a pile as the echoes of her last shriek faded away.

Cyril stood, heaving deep breaths through a clenched jaw, his white knuckles tight around the knife handle. I came to him, putting a hand to his cheek, and gazed into angry eyes. "It is done, Cyril."

Closing his eyes for a moment, he nodded and slowed his breath. He sheathed the knife and rushed to his sister's side, helping her sit up. Kit wavered as she stroked an injured cheek, then grinned at him. They exchanged a silent conversation in sign language and Cyril laughed while drawing her into an embrace.

Coming to me, Kit held out my glass knife. I shook my head, pushing the knife back in her hands then making the hand gestures for 'hero' and 'thank you', some of the few words I knew in her sign language. A hero she was indeed.