Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 by Galvin, Aaron (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

reborn, nor any true Sancul at all. He was merely Kellen Winstel – a frightened, lost boy who had not known of this other, watery world before being cast among its grim horrors. Then, as now, he remained that same boy who had only ever wanted to escape one life and trade it for another, better one.

I will escape though, he promised himself, his gaze ever glancing up to where he knew the surface must lay. I’ll get back up there. I’ll fight for air. He glanced to the mute Sancul, the memory of his dreams reminding that Hypnos would urge him onward in such pursuits also.

Aye, you must, he imagined Hypnos’s quiet voice from the dream-state they had once shared. For if you do not rise, Kellen Winstel . . . then all shall fall.

But how am I to rise? Kellen wondered to himself. He wished for a sign as to whether Hypnos could well and truly hear such thoughts. That, or else to have the mute Sancul once again pull him into a shared dream-state to give such answers.

Like all his silent prayers, his wishes went unanswered too.

Help me, Hypnos! Kellen screamed in his head. How am I to go anywhere on my own when the others won’t let me? When you wouldn’t allow me to go either, Hypnos?

For all his ranting and his questions, the mute Sancul would not answer.

Or do you not really want me to go anywhere? Kellen frowned, remembering how it had been the blazing in Hypnos’s eyes to thwart Kellen’s solo attempt at escaping the Sancul in Mnemosyne. How Black Keerie too had refused his want to head for the surface in Mnemosyne. And all of you playing me for a fool, the same as my owners did in Orphan Knoll.

Kellen looked for Kanaloa then, swapping his fear for anger as he swam over. You should have let me kill him, he insisted to the eldest Sancul, going on when Kanaloa glanced back at him like one confused. Ishmael, Kellen clarified. The Nomad who left me to bleed out and die as a Selkie.

Kanaloa smiled. All things in time, favored one. If I had allowed you to slay him then and there, no doubt the others of his kind would have taken offense and rallied against us.

They wouldn’t have stood a chance, said Kellen. I could’ve killed all their leaders by myself.

Could you? Kanaloa asked.

Kellen wilted at the skepticism in the elder’s words. Truly, he could not remember how many of the Nomads had been in attendance. His mind had blanked when he had spotted Garrett Weaver among the rest. So too had Kellen lost all sense of self after spotting Ishmael with the Nomads also. Well, maybe, I couldn’t have killed all of them, he admitted to Kanaloa. But I could’ve gotten to Ishmael before the others took me.

I do not doubt you there, favored one, said Kanaloa. And yet I say again that had you slain Ishmael, then no doubt we would have soon counted all the other Nomads as our enemies also. Aye, and sent their surviving armies swimming for the capital in search of further allies, rather than they align with us and certain victory.

You really think the Nomads would fight with us?

They should be fools not to ally with our cause, said Kanaloa. Both our peoples breathe the Salt, both the truest folk to ever swim for our shared rebuke of the Ancient call to be of two worlds. Who better to rule once we drown the Dryback shores in Salt as in the days of old?

What do you mean by that? Kellen asked without thinking. How can you drown the shore?

Kanaloa fixed him with a cold stare that made Kellen squirm. You tell me, favored one. For was this not your plan all those many years ago to succeed where first we failed? Or do you not yet recall that either? Kanaloa’s gaze narrowed upon him. Despite all we have done to help you recall thus far, you still have no memory yet of the first time our people flooded the world?

Kellen shrunk beneath his questioning. I-I don’t remember that, he said.

Kanaloa’s brow wrinkled. No memory of your plan. No memory of why . . . most peculiar.

He knows. Kellen thought, glancing to the direction where he knew the surface lay, wondering how fast and far he could ascend if need be to get away.

Kanaloa was no longer watching him though. The elder’s focus had turned to gaze upon the other Sancul. When the elder did look on Kellen again, Kanaloa smiled and shook his head as if to cleanse himself of needling doubt. Forgive my questions, favored one. After the events of Orphan Knoll, I had hoped your memory was finally returned in full. Now, I think it most wise indeed we venture to the Mother of Masks. It may be that between her drugs and the powers of the Oneiori Three, we all of us can help to heal your mind where my continued attempts have failed.

Kellen sensed an opportunity. You have helped me, Kanaloa, he said, reaching out to the old Sancul, finding the elder’s face warming at the simple gesture. You’ve helped me to understand and remember so much already.

Kanaloa patted Kellen’s hand. Not enough, I fear, for the blight upon your mind remains. But no matter. He cheered further. We have waited long enough already for your return. Why should we falter in faith now with you here among us?

Kellen nodded at that, uncertain of what to say for fear of lending further doubt to Kanaloa’s already inquisitive mind. You really do think the Nomads will join us, then? He asked glancing back from the direction they had already swum. That they weren’t just saying whatever they needed to in order to survive? He asked, thinking of his own needs. To get away, maybe?

I care not for their reasons, said Kanaloa. Either the Nomads will join and aid us in destroying the