Mini Brain Dumps

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Trigger Warning: This novel contains references to sexual assault and mental health disorders. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter 26:

Quentin’s tail flicked restlessly against the currents as he stared at Lucy’s letter. The ink was already beginning to fade in some places, smudged slightly from where his fingers had lingered too long. He’d read her words a dozen times, memorizing the curve of her script and the warmth it carried. It was a tether to a world he wasn’t sure he could return to, not yet.

But the urgency in her words, her belief that he was still hers to hold and call back, stirred something within him—a determination he hadn’t felt since their separation. He rolled the parchment carefully and placed it in the drawer beside his bed. He couldn’t afford to lose it, just as he couldn’t afford to lose himself in memories of what once was.

For now, there was work to be done.

Quentin pushed himself off the bed, his muscles still aching but functional. He needed answers—about the prophecy, the markings, the sirens, and the peculiar connection between Seidonis and Marielle. Each question felt like a strand in a net tightening around him.

As he stepped into the hall, the castle hummed with quiet activity. The soft murmur of voices drifted from the dining hall, and the distant clang of weapons echoed from the training grounds. The smell of freshly baked kelp bread wafted through the corridors, mingling with the salty tang of the sea.

Quentin made his way to the library, his mind still replaying the fragments he’d read earlier. Voices from the past… convergence of destinies… the ancient triad. The words felt both cryptic and vital, their meanings brushing just out of reach.

The library was nearly empty when he arrived, save for a figure seated at one of the long tables near the back. Cate’s copper hair gleamed under the filtered sunlight, her face scrunched in concentration as she flipped through a thick tome.

Quentin swam over, peering over her shoulder. “More light reading?”

Cate jumped, slamming the book shut. “Do you always sneak up on people?” she snapped, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward.

“Only when they look like they’re plotting something,” Quentin replied, sliding into the seat across from her.

“Plotting is a strong word,” she said, leaning back. “I’m trying to make sense of whatever Elysia’s shoved into my brain today. Prophecies, ancient runes, ley lines… It’s a lot.”

Quentin raised an eyebrow, resting his chin in his hand. “Ley lines? Didn’t take you for someone interested in magical cartography.”

Cate rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement in her expression. “I’m not interested; I’m being forced. Elysia says understanding them is key to ‘unlocking my potential.’” She made air quotes. “Apparently, Seidonis is crisscrossed with them. But that’s about as much as she’ll tell me.”

“Ley lines, markings, prophecies,” Quentin muttered, more to himself than to Cate. “It all feels connected, but we’re still missing something—something obvious.”

Cate didn’t look up. “Welcome to my world. It’s like trying to solve a puzzle without the corner pieces. Elysia’s breadcrumbs don’t help much either.”

Quentin leaned back, his gaze drifting to the high, arched windows of the library, where the sunlight fractured into shimmering patterns against the water. His mind wandered, tugged back to the Sovereign and the moments before everything had changed.

“What do you remember about what happened on the Sovereign? Do you remember much?” Quentin asked.

Cate finally looked at him, her brow furrowing. “I don’t remember much. You fell overboard and then I was fighting to stay afloat when the ship cracked in half. I got knocked out cold and then woke up here. Why?”

“I heard singing… that’s the last thing I remember.”

Cate’s lips pressed into a thin line. “So that fits with our theory that it was siren’s who attacked the ship.”

Quentin nodded slowly. “Exactly.”

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint rustle of pages as Cate absently turned another one. Quentin let his mind wander back, replaying the events after the Sovereign sank, the disorienting haze he’d woken up in, and that lingering sense of something being off. He hadn’t known what to make of it then, but now, in the quiet of the library, it felt clearer.

“Lyra,” Quentin said, his voice firm. “She found us after the Sovereign went down. If anyone saw what was happening to us in those moments—when we were unconscious—it’s her.”

Cate’s eyes narrowed as she processed his words. “You think she noticed something? Something she didn’t think was important, or…” she trailed off.

Quentin nodded. “I don’t know. But if she saw something then it might be the key to understanding all this. If anyone saw what was going on while we were unconscious – it’s her.”

Cate leaned back in her chair, her hand tapping the surface of the table thoughtfully. “I never trusted her fully… but that’s just my gut feeling. If she knows something, it’s worth finding out.”

___

“Quentin? Cate? What’s going on?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

“We need to talk,” Quentin said.

“Are you going to break up with me?” Lyra joking asked, moving aside to let them in.

“No,” Quentin laughed, as he slipped past her.

Her room was covered in a mismatched collection of cushions and poufs. Their patterns and textures clashing in a delightful array of colors. Her walls were covered in colorful paintings and sketches, each depicting fantastical scenes of underwater wonders and creatures. In one corner of the room, a collection of musical instruments lay scattered about – a lyre, a set of panpipes, and even a makeshift drum fashioned from an old barrel. In another corner stood a simple wooden desk, its surface cluttered with scrolls, parchment, and quills. Above it all, strings of twinkling lights were weaved throughout the room.

As they settled into Lyra’s vibrant and eclectic room, Quentin perched atop a pink pouf with a grin, while Cate found a cozy spot near the window. Lyra joined them, taking a seat across from Quentin with a playful twinkle in her eyes.

“So, what’s all this about?” Lyra asked, leaning forward.

Quentin took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before launching into the encounter with the council. As he spoke, Lyra listened intently, her expression shifting from playful to thoughtful as she absorbed the new information.

“We noticed those same marks, the magical footprints, were on the Sovereign. Did you see anything out of the ordinary when you found us?”

Lyra’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes darting nervously between Quentin and Cate. “I-I don’t know,” she stammered, her voice trembling. “I… I don’t think I did.”

As Lyra’s voice faltered, Quentin’s heart sank, a heavy weight settling in the pit of his stomach. The silence that followed was thick, each moment stretching out like an eternity.

Cate glanced at Quentin, her expression mirroring his concern, before turning back to Lyra with a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Lyra,” she said gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Just tell us what you remember.”

Lyra nodded. “There was a storm, a bad storm. You both weren’t together when I found you, Quentin was a couple hundred meters away from the wreckage but when I saw him, I thought that there may be others, so I looked around and found the ship. That’s where I found you, Cate,” she said looking into Cate’s eyes.

“I thought I saw something in the distance, like a shadow or something swimming away, but I passed it off as being a trick of the light… but now, from what you told me, I think it must have been a siren,” she finished, placing her hands over her face.

Cate squeezed Lyra’s hand in silent support. “Thank you, Lyra,” she said gently. “You did everything you could to help us.”

Quentin nodded in agreement, his own thoughts swirling with a mixture of emotions. “You saved us, Lyra,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “We wouldn’t be here without you.”

Lyra offered them a weak smile. “I just wish I could remember more,” she murmured.

“Do you know why a siren may have attacked the Sovereign?” Cate asked.

Lyra breathed in deeply. “From what I have heard, sirens typically attack ships for a lot of reasons – hunger, protection of their territory,” she paused briefly, taking a shaky breath. “Revenge,” she looked between them both with unshed tears in her eyes.

“Hunger, protection, revenge…” Quentin repeated softly.

“We’re nowhere near siren territory…” Cate pondered. “So, it had to be either hunger or revenge.”

“Are you sure it was a siren that attacked the ship?” Lyra asked.

Quentin and Cate looked at each other. He was certain that it had been a magical footprint that he had seen that day on the Sovereign. But with everything that happened, was he misremembering what the symbol looked like. Maybe it was a carving done by one of the crew instead.

“I’m pretty sure that we saw a footprint on the ship,” Quentin answered.

“I think it’s the most logical explanation given what we know about them, but maybe we need to go back and look around,” Cate said, shrugging her shoulders.

Lyra’s gaze shifted, her fingers tracing an absent pattern on the arm of the chair as she spoke. “Sirens… they’re… complicated,” she murmured. “They’re driven by their instincts to protect themselves. If they did sink the ship, you should stay away from it,” Lyra warned.

“But surely they have some semblance of reason,” Cate ventured, her brow furrowed in thought. “Some motive behind their actions.”

Lyra nodded slowly; her gaze distant. “Perhaps,” she said quietly. “But sometimes… sometimes the line between reason and instinct becomes blurred. And when that happens… well, anything is possible.”

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