Mini Brain Dumps

Before we get into this final chapter, I want to take a moment to get a little sentimental. Please bear with me.

This is it. The last chapter of The Darkest Depths.

As I wrote it, I felt something I can’t quite explain. I just knew this was the end. Not the end of everything, but the end of this part of the story. It felt complete.

This book has challenged me, changed me, and reminded me why I love both reading and writing. Whether you’ve been here from the very first page or only found this story recently, thank you. I truly and sincerely appreciate your support.

I’ve already started working on the second book in the series. For now, it’s affectionately titled Untitled Story (IYKYK).

That said, I’ll be stepping away from this series for a little while. I’ll be turning my focus to a different novel that has been living in my head rent free for years. Lately, the characters have been so loud, I feel like they’re shouting at me to finish writing it. And I can’t ignore their voices anymore (maybe I’ve actually finally gone insane haha).

It is a science fiction novel set in an underground bunker where the last remnants of humanity have survived the destruction of the surface. The story follows a girl born into one of the final generations to live below. That’s all I’m sharing for now…

Of course, I’ll be sharing that story here too. I hope you’ll join me for that adventure as well.

Now, one last dive into these dark depths. For now! 🙂

___

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

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

Chapter 37:

Quentin’s eyes fluttered open, and he found himself alone in his room in the castle. The faint glow of the early morning light filtered through the window. Panic seized his chest as he sat up, the sudden movement filling his head with a pain so intense he thought he might vomit.

“Cate?” he rasped.

No answer came.

Quentin’s heart hammered in his chest as he scanned the room. Where was she? Was she alright? A phantom finger ran itself down his spine, a cold creeping into him. He instinctively looked toward the chair by the window, the chair she had sat in for the week that he had recovered from the siren poison, but she wasn’t there.

Frantically, Quentin swung his tail over the side of the bed, his head spinning. Every movement sent waves of agony rippling through him, but he pushed against the dizziness that threatened to consume him, stumbling toward the door. She had been hurt. And he didn’t care if she hated him, he needed to find her.

As he entered the hallway, he was met with an eerie silence that seemed to suffocate him. The castle, once bustling with activity, now felt like a tomb. The few who did dare roam the halls did so with their gazes cast downwards, barely making eye contact, or offering a reassuring smile. It reminded him so much of how people acted around him when his father had died – almost as if they were scared that if they met his eye for too long, he would fall apart.

“Quentin,” a voice called out, and he turned to see Elysia approaching, her green cloak billowing behind her as she moved through the water.

He didn’t hesitate, launching himself forward, nearly colliding into her.

“Where is she?” Quentin demanded, his voice hoarse, tears brimming in his eyes.

“Quentin, you’ve been out for a week. You need to…” “Where is she?” he repeated louder.
Elysia chewed the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know,” she said softly.

The world seemed to tip on its side. His vision blurred at the edges, the once-clear lines of the castle corridor now warped and distorted. Every sound seemed muffled. It felt as though the ground beneath him was shifting, unsteady and unstable.

Images flashed before his eyes, disjointed and fragmented. He saw Cate’s face, her eyes wide with fear as she was dragged away by shadowy figures. He heard her voice, calling out to him, pleading for help.

But try as he might, Quentin couldn’t seem to hold on to the memories, couldn’t seem to grasp the reality of what was happening – what had happened. This was a nightmare, a nightmare from which he couldn’t wake up.

The name hit Quentin like a physical blow. He released Elysia’s cloak and turned away, his mind spinning with a thousand thoughts.

“We have to find her,” he said.

“We will,” she promised. “The Council is meeting now to discuss what happened and figure out what we are going to do. I was coming to get you…”

“Let’s go,” Quentin interrupted, not needing to hear anything more.

He had to get the council to help him find Cate.

Together, they hurried towards the Council Chambers. Quentin fought down the urge to vomit as he rushed toward the meeting room where the fate of Cate – and perhaps their entire world – would soon be decided. He had to stop a few times on the way, his head pounding with a ferocity that dimmed the edges of his vision and made his stomach turn inside out, but he swallowed the bile in his throat before continuing.

When they finally reached the heavy doors, Quentin paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He leaned heavily against the door. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them away. With trembling hands, he pushed open the doors and slipped inside.

He was met by a room charged with magical energy. Nerissa and Thalassa’s voices were rising and falling in a heated debate as Niamh sat in her chair and looked between the two. The noise was enough to make Quentin flinch in pain.

“We cannot act rashly,” Thalassa stated firmly. “That attack was calculated. They want us to retaliate. They want us to be torn apart. They want our attention divided. We cannot risk the safety of Seidonis for the sake of one person.”

“That one person has magical abilities that have not even fully materialized yet. That one person might very well be our savior,” Niamh interjected softly.

“Or our destruction,” Thalassa countered, turning to Niamh. “What if saving her jeopardizes everything we’ve built? What if her capture leads them right back to our doorstep?”

“They’ve already been here,” Nerissa gestured to the ruins around them. “And we were sorely underprepared for it. We have underestimated them at every turn. What do you think they’re going to do now that they have Lyra and Cate?”

Quentin felt a surge of determination as he swam further into the room. “We have to save her,” he declared, his voice cutting through the heated debate. All eyes turned toward him, their expressions a mixture of surprise and concern.

Niamh’s gaze softened as she looked at him, but it was Thalassa who responded first. “Quentin, we understand your attachment to Cate, but this is bigger than we know. We must protect our people.”

Quentin’s palms were sweating as his heart pounded in his chest. “In what world is Cate not one of your people? She was cursed just like you. She suffered the same pain and heartache as all of you. Cate isn’t just anyone. You said it yourselves—she has powers that could be our salvation. We can’t just leave her in their hands.”

Nerissa came forward. “Quentin, we all care about Cate. But the risks—”

“The risks are exactly why we need to act,” Quentin interrupted. “If Lyra has Cate, she’ll exploit her powers. She could turn them against us.”

Thalassa shook her head. “Or Cate could willingly join them. We don’t know her true potential or her true intentions.”

“You’ve known her since she turned into a mermaid! Almost a year now! How can you say you don’t know her?” Quentin exclaimed.

“We thought we knew Lyra too,” Elysia said softly from behind him.

Quentin turned to Elysia, a look of bewilderment on his face. “You’re siding with them?”
“It’s not about sides, Quentin—”

“So that’s it? We just leave her to her fate? Pretend she never mattered?”

Niamh spoke up, her voice soft as she tried to calm Quentin’s bubbling anger. “No one is suggesting we forget her. But our immediate priority must be the safety of Seidonis. If we stretch our resources too thin, we’ll be vulnerable to another attack.”

Nerissa nodded reluctantly. “We need to rebuild and strengthen our forces. We can’t afford to be caught off guard again.”

Elysia placed a gentle hand on Quentin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Quentin. We all want to save Cate, but our hands are tied.”

Quentin shrugged off her touch and glanced back at the council. “This is the reason Lyra turned against you all. Because when it comes down to it, you’re willing to sacrifice anyone for the so-called greater good.”

Thalassa’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, Quentin. You’re treading dangerous waters.”
“Dangerous waters are exactly where we are, Thalassa. And if we don’t start swimming, we’ll drown,” he snarled.

Without another word, he pushed past Elysia.

The council was a dead end – he couldn’t wait for them to act, not when Cate’s life hung in the balance. As he made his way through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle, Quentin’s thoughts raced. He needed a plan.

He returned to his room unsteadily, collapsing onto his bed. The ache in his head and heart seemed to merge into a single, overwhelming pain. Cate was out there, somewhere, and he needed to bring her home. Every breath felt like a struggle. With a weary sigh, Quentin forced himself to sit up, his muscles protesting with every movement. He couldn’t afford to dwell on his pain, not when there was so much at stake.

Slowly, he pushed himself off the bed, his fin trembling. Every stroke felt like an eternity, each movement a battle against the weight of the world. But he refused to falter, refused to succumb to the darkness that threatened to engulf him.

As he reached the window, Quentin gazed out at the world beyond. His stomach knotted at the sight that greeted him. The once vibrant city that sprawled beneath the waves now lay in ruins. Buildings that had once stood tall and proud were reduced to crumbling structures, their facades battered by the relentless force of the sirens.

The streets, once bustling with life, were now deserted, devoid of the lively chatter and laughter that had once filled the air. The remnants of what was once the thriving community lay scattered among the wreckage. Quentin’s eyes swept over the scene before him, taking in the shattered remains of homes and businesses, the debris strewn haphazardly across the streets. The city, a ghostly shadow of its former self.

As he floated there, absorbing the grim reality before him, fragments of memories and words echoed in his mind.

…cities beneath the waves…

…creatures of myths and legends…

Quentin blinked, the pieces beginning to connect in his mind. He leaned heavily against the windowsill.

I don’t understand… You will, lad.

The voice, familiar yet distant, resonated in his memory—a voice of wisdom and experience. In that fleeting moment, clarity washed over him like a sudden wave. He knew what he had to do.

He needed to go back to the surface.

He needed to go home.

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