Mini Brain Dumps

If you’re just joining us and haven’t read the beginning of Darkest Depths, you can catch up here: Beginning of the Story

Missed the previous chapter? No problem! You can find it here Previous Chapter

Little known fact – I originally was going to call this novel “The Depths of Despair.” And I don’t know about you, but I kind of love when a book references the title (this will make sense once you read the new chapter haha).

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

Chapter 34:

As Cate and Quentin, feeling defeated, found themselves in the grand dining hall, a bowl of clam chowder had been placed in front of them. Despite the tantalizing aromas, their stomachs were too knotted to eat. Quentin held his spoon, pushing the lump mush from side to side, his head propped on his hand as he stared at his food. His mom would’ve made a joke about him not devouring it the instant the bowl was sat in front of him if she were there. As they sat quietly together, he couldn’t help but notice the hushed conversations emanating from nearby tables. The murmurs seemed to carry an air of unease, as if the castle itself was holding its breath.

“I heard they caught a siren lurking around the castle,” one servant whispered to another, their voices barely audible. The words hung in the air like a heavy fog, casting a shadow over the otherwise serene atmosphere of the hall.

A shiver ran down Quentin’s spine as he heard the whispered words, his hand tightening around the handle of his fork. His heart sank at the mention of a captured siren, and his mind immediately jumped to the possibility of it being Lyra. Could their friend have been discovered, her secret revealed to all?

Exchanging a worried glance with Cate, Quentin could see the same concern mirrored in her eyes. Without a word, they reached a silent agreement. They needed to find out what was happening, to confirm whether their fears had come true.

With a shared sense of urgency, they abandoned their half-finished meals, the clatter of silverware against porcelain echoing in their wake as they swiftly rose from their seats and hurried from the opulent dining hall. The grandeur of the surroundings faded into the background as their thoughts were consumed by the mystery of the captured siren and the potential implications it held for their friend, Lyra.

Racing through the twisting corridors of the castle, Cate and Quentin moved with purpose. The urgency of their mission propelled them forward, their hearts pounding in unison with each stroke of their tails.

As they navigated the maze-like passages, their minds raced with questions. Had Lyra been discovered? If so, how had it happened? And what would become of her now?

Their journey led them to the towering doors of the council chambers, where voices could be heard from within, murmuring in solemn deliberation. With a shared glance, Cate and Quentin steeled themselves before pushing open the heavy doors and swimming into the chamber.

Inside, the chamber was tense, charged with anticipation. The council members sat in a semicircle, their expressions grave as they discussed the matter at hand. At the centre of the room, Lyra was slumped in between two guards, as if she had given up completely.
Quentin felt his heart drop to his knees at the sight of Lyra standing there, a prisoner in her own home. He wanted to rush to Lyra’s side, to offer comfort and reassurance, but he knew that they were not alone. The eyes of the council members bore down upon them, scrutinizing their every move.

“Well, this is an unexpected development,” Nerissa remarked, her voice carrying a note of curiosity. “It seems fate has brought you both here at a rather opportune moment.”
Nerissa motioned for them to approach, her demeanor more welcoming than they had anticipated. “Please, join us,” she said, gesturing to the seats arranged around the table. “Your insights may prove invaluable.”

Approaching cautiously, Cate and Quentin took a seat, acutely aware of the weight of the moment.

As they settled into their seat, a subtle tension lingered in the air, heightening their apprehension. Thalassa observed them closely, her gaze penetrating yet inscrutable.
Without warning, attendants swiftly moved forward, brandishing syringes containing a shimmering liquid. Before Cate and Quentin could react, the attendant swiftly injected them with the substance, their movements practiced and efficient.

Startled, Quentin instinctively recoiled, his eyes widening in alarm as the effects of the serum took hold. A warmth spread through his veins, followed by a strange sense of clarity and vulnerability. He exchanged a bewildered glance with Cate, who wore a similar expression of surprise. Niamh frowned from her chair but said nothing.

Nerissa regarded them calmly, her features betraying no hint of remorse for the sudden intrusion. “Forgive the necessity of this measure,” she said evenly. “But in matters of utmost importance, transparency is paramount.”

His mind raced as the serum began to take effect, stripping away the layers of inhibition and doubt.

“Can you please state your name for the record?” Thalassa asked.

“Quentin Michael Hayes,” Quentin answered, unable to stop his mouth from moving of its own accord.

“Catherine Marie Sinclair,” Cate stated, her voice strained.

Thalassa leaned forward, her eyes piercing. “Quentin, Cate, we appreciate your presence here today. As friends of Lyra, we believe you can provide valuable insight into her character and actions.”

Quentin glanced at Cate, their eyes locking in a moment before he turned his attention back to Thalassa.

Thalassa nodded; her expression unreadable. “Let’s begin. I am going to ask you a personal question just to make sure that the serum is working properly… Who do you love?”

“Lucille Genevieve Hawthorne, but I call her Lucy,” Quentin stated. It was a truth that he hadn’t fully acknowledged until that moment, laid bare by the effects of the serum. His heart raced as memories of Lucy flooded his mind, her smile, her laughter, the warmth of her embrace. He felt a pang of longing, a yearning for her presence that he had buried deep within himself. Quentin’s gaze drifted to Cate, who met his eyes with a look of surprise that was quickly masked by indifference.

“Quentin Michael Hayes,” Cate answered.

Quentin felt a jolt of surprise shoot through him, his eyes widening momentarily as Cate’s words hung in the air between them.

For a moment, Quentin was at a loss for words, his mind struggling to process the implications of Cate’s confession. He was flattered, touched by the depths of her feelings. Yet, with his confession, he knew that she would be hurt. He glanced at her, searching her expression for any hint of jest or uncertainty, perhaps she had a way of eluding the truth while under its influence, but only found sincerity reflected. The hurt in her eyes was more than he could bear. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but she quickly retreated behind her wall, building it back up brick by brick until he was shut out once again.

As he grappled with his own emotions, Quentin’s gaze drifted back to Cate, lingering on her face as he struggled to find the right words to respond, her eyes filling with tears. He wanted to acknowledge her confession, to offer some semblance of reassurance or understanding, but the weight of the serum and the scrutiny of the council stifled his ability to articulate his thoughts.

In the end, all Quentin could manage was a faint nod, a silent acknowledgment of Cate’s admission. But beneath the surface, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions churned, leaving him reeling.

Thalassa smiled, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms with a smug look. “Safe to say it’s working.”

Nerissa continued. “Now, let’s move on to the matter at hand. Cate, Quentin, you are here because of your association with Lyra.”

“What is your relationship with Lyra?” Thalassa asked, leaning forward and placing her hands on the table.

“We’re friends,” Quentin answered. He felt a smile on his lips as he realized that he still considered Lyra to be his friend, despite their current predicament. Cate didn’t answer.
Thalassa raised an eyebrow. “And how long have you known Lyra?”

Quentin swallowed hard. “We’ve known her for around a year,” he admitted.

Cate’s grip tightened on the armrest as she fought against the truth serum. “A year,” she answered through gritted teeth.

As the interrogation continued, Quentin’s thoughts remained divided, torn between his concern for Lyra and his newfound awareness of Cate’s feelings. Each question from Thalassa felt like a weight pressing down on him, amplifying the sense of unease that permeated the chamber. And yet, despite the turmoil of emotions and relentless scrutiny, Quentin couldn’t shake Cate’s confession, a revelation that seemed to blur the lines between friend and something more.

Thalassa observed them closely, her gaze unwavering. “Thank you for your honesty,” she said, though her tone suggested she was far from satisfied.

“Did you have any knowledge of Lyra’s true identity prior to today?” Nerissa asked.

“No,” Cate said, and for a moment, Quentin was surprised. But she hadn’t lied, they had only learned about it a couple of hours ago, a loophole. He couldn’t help but admire her determination to protect Lyra despite the pain the serum must be causing her.

“Please only answer yes or no. Do you believe Lyra poses a threat to the safety and stability of Seidonis?” Thalassa asked.

She gritted her teeth, her face beginning to turn red with the strain.

“Yes,” she finally said. She looked at him sadly.

“No,” Quentin answered.

The council leaned in closer. “Quentin, please explain,” Niamh said softly.

As the council’s gaze fixated on Quentin, he felt the weight of their scrutiny pressing down upon him, exacerbating the internal struggle raging within. Niamh’s gentle plea for an explanation provided a fleeting moment of respite, but the relentless instance of Thalassa’s questions quickly shattered any hope of reprieve.

“I can’t deny that Lyra’s actions have caused… pain, but I don’t think it is fair to label her as an outright threat to Seidonis.”

Thalassa’s sharp tone cut through the air like a knife. “Yes or no. You’re admitting she has caused chaos?”

Quentin hesitated, his gaze briefly flickering towards Lyra, silently pleading for understanding. “Yes,” he said, each syllable weighted with the struggle against the serum’s grip. His mind rebelled against the constraints imposed upon him, but his voice betrayed him, offering a concession to the council.

“Yes or no. By your own words, you acknowledge that she is a danger?” Thalassa pressed.

Quentin clenched his fists reflexively, his muscles tensing against the invisible shackles that bound him. He clenched his teeth tightly, trying to stop himself from saying what his mouth was already forming.

“Yes,” he forced out.

“Do you believe that Lyra’s presence in Seidonis poses a risk to its citizens and their well-being?”

“Yes,” Quentin replied defeated.

Cate watched helplessly as Quentin collapsed into his chair.

A heavy silence descended upon the chamber, punctuated only by the rhythmic beat of Quentin’s heart echoing in his ears. He felt as though he were trapped in a waking nightmare, a prisoner of his own thoughts and fears. The council turned their attention to Lyra. He watched intently as the questions began.

“Did you intentionally sink the Sovereign and cause harm to any of its crew members?” Thalassa interrogated, her voice cutting through the heavy silence like a sword.

“Yes,” Lyra’s voice rang out, clear and unwavering.

The next question came like a swift jab. “Did you conceal your true identity as a siren from the citizens of Seidonis, including your friends Cate and Quentin.”

“Yes,” Lyra replied, casting a look towards Quentin and Cate.

Quentin’s breath caught in his throat.

“Have you ever intentionally endangered the lives of innocent people for your own benefit?” Thalassa’s voice was relentless.

“Yes.”

As the barrage of questions continued, Quentin couldn’t tear his gaze away from Lyra. He watched as she answered each one with a sense of resignation, her shoulders slumped under the weight of her guilt.

“And finally,” Thalassa’s voice rang out. “Do you, Lyra, admit to intentionally causing harm, destruction, or chaos within Seidonis?”

“Yes,” Lyra’s voice was barely above a whisper, the weight of her words echoing in the chamber. Quentin felt a lump form in his throat.

A heavy silence enveloped the room. The council members exchanged somber glances. After a moment of contemplation, they rose from their seats.

“In light of the evidence presented and the admissions made by the accused, it is the decision of the Council of Elders that Lyra shall be sentenced to exile from the realm of Seidonis,” Nerissa said, the pronouncement hanging in the air like a dark cloud, casting a pall over the chamber. “This exile shall be absolute—she will be cast beyond our borders, barred from any known settlement, and confined to the desolate reaches of the abyss, where none may find or aid her. To ensure her isolation, she shall be bound by the Mark of Banishment, a curse that repels all who attempt to seek her and prevents her from crossing into inhabited waters. No contact, no reprieve. A fate of isolation as binding as any prison.”

As the council’s verdict echoed through the chamber, Lyra’s carefully constructed facade crumbled, revealing the raw, unfiltered emotion that roiled within her. In a moment of reckless abandon, she lashed out at the Council of Elders, her voice trembling with rage and sorrow as she unleashed the full force of her anguish upon them.

“You have no right!” she cried, her words echoing off the chamber walls like a thunderclap. “You sit in judgment upon me, passing sentence without mercy or compassion. But what do you know of suffering? What do you know of sacrifice?” Her voice cracked, her eyes glistening with tears. “You made me this way!”

Quentin saw the way that Elysia flinched as Lyra’s words slammed into her . Her face paled as she stared wide-eyed a Lyra – the so called monster she had created.

The once-still waters of the council chamber erupted into a tumultuous tempest, swirling and churning with the force of a raging storm. The currents turned and swirled, the thrones previously occupied by the council, thrown into the walls of the chamber, shattering into a million pieces.

Quentin and Cate could only watch in awe and horror as Lyra’s power manifested in a display of breathtaking magnitude. In the chaos, Lyra’s form seemed to blur and shift, her features distorted through the depth, and she unleashed a torrent of water that surged towards the council, engulfing them in an icy embrace.

As the waters began to clear, the debris settling onto the floor, all that was left behind was the wreckage of the chamber. Lyra’s silhouette was framed against the fading light filtering through the shattered walls. Her figure tall and defiant amidst the remnants of her fury, her eyes blazing with rage. But even in the middle of the chaos and destruction, he could still see the flicker of the girl he had once known.

With a final cry, that girl disappeared behind a mask of anger.

Lyra turned and disappeared into the dark waters beyond.

And though she was gone, the destroyed chamber lay as a haunting reminder of the cost of betrayal and the depths of despair.

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