That illusion, so realistic and complex, moved towards the intruder as if an actual spirit, one with hostile intentions. However, as complex as it was, the moment that the ruse had been discovered it began to fade away, it began to unravel and fall apart. When it reached the man, the one who was supposed to be deceived and trapped, only wisps remained, swirling around him before also fading away, leaving no trace of either the illusion or the creature that had created it. The man was once again alone in the forest, the moon still high up in the sky, uncaring about the events that had played out on the ground far below. It was as if not only the spirit, but the song and the siren had been an illusion as well, as if they had never been there and he had merely seen them as a waking dream.
However, the man was not so easily deceived. He knew that he had seen and heard was real, and would not be dissuaded from finding evidence, to show himself that what he knew was truth. He searched, he looked, until eventually he found his target, an incomplete attempt at hiding. He called out to her, tried to persuade her, explained that he was harmless. He wanted her to stop hiding. He wanted to know what it was that he had found. His curiosity, his desire to know, was making him display humility, something which most likely was no oft seen from this man.
At first his pleas, his calling out, had no effect. The trees remained unmoving, the wind silent, the world around him didn't change. He knelt, unarmed and with no intention of harm. A picture, or a painting, so unmoving were he and the world around him. That apparition, that shape he had seen in the lake, remained hidden, unwilling to show itself, or unable. A silence that could make the largest shout disappear into nothingness, a static display that would halt all movement.
However, then slowly something appeared. And something disappeared. A bush, as innocent and mundane as the next, slowly began to fade. Nothing gave it away, it could have been just one bush amongst many, but yet it slowly unravelled, just as the assault had unravelled. The bush, an illusion, but one crafted so well that any normal man would not have suspected it. A masterful display of deceit, now no longer required or wanted. And from behind the bush, from behind the tree whose base it had hidden, appeared that figure that the intruder had seen, silently staring at him with large vermilion eyes. She was still as bare as all creature are upon birth, still wet from her time in the lake.
She slowly stepped towards the man, still silent, her movements careful and graceful. If she was embarrassed about her appearance, of how her entire body was on display, to be ogled and seen without limit, she showed no hint of it, not even the barest reddening of cheeks. Instead her eyes were focused on the person who had heard her song that nobody should have heard, who had seen her when she had hoped nobody had been there to see. Her expression was still one without any intention betrayed, merely the expression of one watching something or somebody of importance. When she was a mere yard away from him she came to a halt, looking at him with eyes unreadable. What went through her head, what she was planning, it all was hidden behind those eyes. She did not speak, did not even move her lips as if planning to speak. As silent and strange as a spectre she was, and with no intention of changing that.
After more than a minute of silence had passed she began to move again, slowly but with clear certainty. As if ignoring the man before her she walked back towards the lake, still with slow, careful but clear grace. Her tail, leaving a trail of droplets in its wake, swayed behind her, hiding her behind beneath white fur. At first it was truly as if she had forgotten about him, or as if she had dismissed him, but then she looked back at him, waiting for him to follow before she continued moving. She moved to the edge of the water, at which point she extended one arm, extended the index finger on that arm, extended both aimed towards the surface of that silver mirror that the lake had become.
Should he, the intruder, follow that silent command he would see something interesting, something that would most surely draw his attention. The spectre's image remained the same, but his own was...not his own. Instead it was of another girl, one with the same white hair, with the same fox ears, the same vermilion eyes. Yet, they were not identical: the differences were small, but they were significant, enough to make it clear that they were two different people. And the reflection that had appeared where the man's own should have been, so similar to that of the figure standing next to him but still different, was one that he knew. It was the appearance of somebody that he had met, not too long ago, and he would almost without a doubt realize where that feeling of familiarity came from, why he had felt that she was both distant and still somebody he knew.
The siren herself did not say anything, or move, instead waiting for him to make his next move, decide how to react to this. She just watched the water, just as she wanted him to, showing emotion on her face for the first time as she looked at that second reflection: longing. The desire to regain something that had been lost.