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 28:

The soft hum of water surrounded them as they floated in the training hall, the current shifting gently around their bodies. The sound of blades clashing echoed in the space, the sharp ring of metal on metal punctuating. Elysia watched intently as Quentin and Cate sparred, her gaze flicking from one to the other, occasionally offering corrections in the form of small gestures or murmurs of encouragement.

“Focus, Quentin!” Elysia called, her voice ringing through the chamber. “Your strikes are too wide. Narrow them in, like you’re actually trying to hit Cate.”

Quentin nodded, adjusting his stance as he swung his practice blade at Cate. She parried it easily, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Oh come on, a baby could dodge that,” Cate teased.

Quentin gritted his teeth, frustration building as he tried to ignore the mocking tone in her voice. He swung again, this time with more determination, his blade cutting through the water like a flash of lightning. Cate swam to the right, easily dodging the attack, and swung her trident, clipping him in the back.

Quentin winced as the tip of Cate’s trident grazed his back, sending a jolt of pain through him. He spun around quickly, eyes narrowed. “Okay, that’s it,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing the spot where the weapon had caught him. “No more Mr. Nice Guy.”

Cate raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening as she readied her trident again. “Is that a threat, or a promise?”

Elysia, who had been watching intently, raised a hand to stop the sparring. “Enough!” she called out, her voice sharp. “You’re both getting sloppy. Quentin, if you’re going to use your speed, then use it. Cate, don’t let him set the pace.”

Quentin exhaled, trying to calm the frustration bubbling up inside him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to win; it was just that every time he tried to push himself, something felt… off. Like a barrier he couldn’t quite break through. He flexed his fingers around the hilt of his blade, forcing himself to focus.

“Try again,” Elysia said. “This time, focus on your intent. Don’t just swing for the sake of swinging. Let the water guide your movements.”

Quentin nodded, adjusting his grip. His eyes flicked to Cate, who was now watching him carefully, her teasing expression replaced with a focused one. He felt the familiar pulse of energy in his body, the subtle shift in the water around him. It had become second nature—until now. His thoughts were scattered, and his body didn’t quite follow his intentions.

As he swam forward and raised his blade, something strange happened. The water around his trident seemed to pulse slightly, sending a ripple in the water around him. It was so brief, so fleeting, that at first he thought he had imagined it. But Elysia’s sudden intake of breath told him otherwise.

Elysia swam forward, her voice cutting through the air excitedly.

“Hold on, both of you! Stop,” she commanded, her eyes locked on Quentin as he lowered his trident.

Elysia grabbed Quentin’s chin in her hand and tilted his face from side to side, staring into his eyes as if searching for something.

Quentin eyed Cate, brows furrowing. “What’s going on?”

“I saw something,” Elysia said. “When you moved, just now – there was something in your eyes. Did you feel it? Like a burst of power?”

Quentin blinked. “Power? No, I didn’t feel anything.”

Elysia tipped his head one last time before letting go of him, straightening her cloak as she backed away slowly. She stared at him with an intensity that made his skin prickle.

“Maybe I was mistaken,” Elysia said, her voice faltering slightly as she hesitated. “It was so quick, so subtle. Perhaps it was just the way the water reacted to your movement… But there was something there.”

Quentin frowned, glancing at Cate, who seemed as confused as he was. “You think I—”

“I’m not sure,” Elysia cut in, her tone uncertain now. “It could have been a fluke. Just a trick of the light or the current.” She gave a small shake of her head, clearly trying to convince herself as much as him. “Aquamorphs can do strange things when they get worked up, or at least from what I have heard.”

“What do you mean ‘so you’ve heard’?” The question formed on his lips before he even knew if he wanted to know the answer.

She sighed. “We’ve only ever encountered on other aquamorph who possessed magical abilities in my lifetime. And, well… that didn’t end so well.”

“What do you mean?” Cate asked.

Elysia’s voice trailed off as she glanced at Quentin, the weight of her unspoken words hanging in the air. She looked as if she were searching for the right way to explain it all, but something seemed to hold her back. After a long moment, she spoke again, her voice quieter this time, more cautious.

“Her name was Lysandra,” she murmured, her eyes distant, as if recalling a painful memory. “She was the first siren.”

Quentin’s brow furrowed in confusion, and even Cate, who had been trying to follow the conversation with growing concern, shifted uncomfortably. “What do you mean, the first siren?” Cate asked, her voice steady but laced with curiosity.

Elysia’s eyes flickered between them, and she seemed to weigh how much to reveal, a deep uncertainty settling in her expression. After a brief pause, she began, her voice somber.

“When Seidonis was first established, Nareza, the first mermaid, took in those who had suffered the harshest fates—those who had been scarred beyond repair. She created a sanctuary of sorts, a place for them to heal. Lysandra was one of those she took in.”

Elysia’s gaze dropped to the floor as if the memory still hurt. “But Lysandra’s anger… it consumed her. She was a victim of unspeakable violence, and though Nareza tried to help her, to heal her, the anger boiled inside her, twisted her until there was nothing left but rage. And that rage… it gave birth to the sirens.”

Quentin felt a chill at the back of his neck as Elysia’s words sank in. The sirens were born from anger… from vengeance.

“Lysandra became the first siren, a creature of wrath, and she gathered others who shared her pain, who were willing to destroy in the name of revenge,” Elysia continued, her voice now almost a whisper. “The sirens were born from that anger, that need for justice. And they declared war on the mermaids, on Seidonis, the very place that had tried to give them solace.”

Quentin’s mind raced as the pieces started to fit together.

“The Battle of the Tides,” Elysia whispered, as though the name itself held a dark history. “The mermaids fought against the sirens, but when it was all over, Nareza showed mercy to her former friend, putting her into dreamless sleep and burying her beneath the underwater mountains. The sirens retreated, broken but not gone. They rebuilt, and now they wait.”

“Wait for what exactly?” Cate asked.

Elysia looked between Cate and Quentin, a small smile on her face. “For the prophecy to be fulfilled.”

Quentin swallowed hard. The words hung in the water, heavy. “The same one we heard them talking about you mean?”

Elysia hesitated, the flickering light from the water casting strange shadows across her face. She seemed to weigh her words carefully, as though choosing how much to reveal. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and serious.

“The prophecy says that one day, someone will rise with a power so great that it could bring about the salvation of the world… or its destruction.”

Cate’s voice cut through the heavy silence. “So, what, you think he might become like Lysandra? Someone who could destroy without meaning to?”

Elysia hesitated, the weight of her words pressing heavily in the air. “I don’t know. He might’ve done so already.”

Quentin felt like he had been slapped in the face.

“What do you mean?” Cate narrowed her eyes.

“The Sovereign.”

Quentin’s felt a sharp pang in his chest, like the last shred of stability had been ripped away.

“The Sovereign?” Cate asked. She glanced at Quentin.

Elysia’s gaze flickered to the ocean floor, her fingers nervously tracing the edges of her cloak. “There’s been talk, whispers really. Some believe the destruction of the Sovereign was no accident. That it was caused by something—someone—tapping into powers they couldn’t control. A sudden surge, a moment of vulnerability, and the ship was destroyed.”

Cate looked at Quentin. “You don’t really think—?”

“I don’t know,” Elysia interrupted. “All I know is that in times of great emotional turmoil, when an aquamorph’s control slips—their powers can do things. Uncontrollable things.”

Quentin felt a knot tighten in his stomach. “But I didn’t do anything,” he managed to say though his tongue felt like it was four times larger than his mouth. “I didn’t mean to—if I did, I don’t even know how.”

Elysia turned her gaze back to him, her expression softening just slightly, though the concern never left her eyes. “Sometimes, that’s the problem. It’s not always about intent.”

Quentin blinked rapidly, trying to steady himself, but his hands were shaking. He wanted to ask more, to demand answers, but the words stuck in his throat. How could I not have known? The thought echoed in his mind, but it felt like it was coming from someone else.

He could barely look at Cate now, knowing she had lost everything because of what had happened.

Elysia nodded, her tone firm. “But you need to understand, whatever happened that night, it wasn’t you consciously making those choices. And you didn’t hurt anyone intentionally.”

“But how do you know that?” Quentin’s voice was strained, almost desperate. “If I’m really capable of doing something like this, why can’t I control it? I’ve tried, Elysia. The tridents don’t work for me, I can’t blend into the kelp. But somehow, I still managed to destroy a ship?”

Elysia leaned in, her hand gently resting on his arm. Her touch was warm, but it couldn’t chase away the cold dread pooling in his stomach. “Sometimes, when trauma hits, our bodies protect us. Your magic—it might be locked away, hidden from you. It doesn’t mean it’s gone. Just that it’s waiting.”

Her words hit him like a stone sinking to the bottom of the sea. He knew she was trying to reassure him, but the weight of her words only made him feel more powerless. What if I can’t control it when it comes back? He looked down, his gaze fixed on the water swirling around them, trying to steady his thoughts.

Cate’s voice softened, less harsh now but still filled with an edge of concern. “Don’t go thinking you’re some kind of monster, Quentin. Whatever happened, you didn’t want this.”

Quentin nodded, but even as he did, a new fear was taking root inside him—one that he couldn’t shake off. He wanted to believe Cate. He wanted to believe that he wasn’t dangerous. But the doubt kept clawing at him. What if I can’t stop it next time? What if I hurt someone else?

Elysia seemed to sense his growing panic and offered him a small, reassuring smile. “You’re not alone in this. You’re not the first to struggle with this kind of power. But you can learn to control it. You just have to be careful.”

Tears stung his eyes, and he blinked them away, but the fear lingered. “What have I done?”

Without waiting for a response, he turned, his fins flicking beneath him with each stroke. He stumbled out of the alcove, barely aware of where he was going, just needing to get away from the suffocating space.

He didn’t even make it to his room.

He collapsed in the hallway, the walls closing in around him as his breath came in short, shallow gasps. The panic flooded him, like he was drowning without the water. His hands gripped the sides of his head as though he could pull his thoughts back into order, but it was no use.

His mind flashed with memories of the Sovereign, of the crew who had welcomed him. What if I killed them? What if it was me?

And then, there was Cate. The weight of her transformation, the way he’d been the cause of her losing everything, tore at him. His heart felt like it was breaking, piece by piece, until nothing was left but jagged edges.

Tears spilled from his eyes, but he didn’t wipe them away.

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