Chapter Six: Sinking Spirits

Malia wasn't sure why, but ever since she became a water spirit, she managed to have the best sleep of her life. Maybe there was something in the water; Beatrice always raved about its magical properties. Or maybe it was like how the sounds of the ocean would lull people to sleep, except she was actually in the ocean. Or maybe it was because she was, well, dead.

Whatever the reason, Malia always found herself routinely waking up well-rested and refreshed in Okeanos's lodgings. And while the gray rock walls and plain sponge bed weren't exactly cozy, she supposed it was on par with her nights on the old couch in her lab.

That was what she thought until one morning when a loud bellow echoed within her room.

"What the hell was that?" Malia exclaimed, more as an outlet for her shock than a request for answers.

As it turned out, both purposes were fulfilled a few seconds later, preceded by incessant pounding at her door.

"Malia, wake up!" Beatrice shouted from the other side. "That was the conch!"

At first, Malia's mind jumped to her middle school English class; it took another moment for her to remember her water spirit lessons.

She swore as she scrambled out of bed, quickly swapping out her baggy clothes for fitted, streamlined attire before rushing outside.

Unsurprisingly, Beatrice was ready. Unexpectedly, her garments were also fitted, but unlike Malia's, hers had long sleeves and pant legs. They were a complete contrast from the loose clothing she normally selected, and at the visual, Malia briefly froze in shock before regaining her bearings. If the sound of the conch resulted in that dramatic change, things had to be serious.

They joined the bustle of water spirits that glided down the hall. Even after a little over a month, Malia had yet to swim alongside that many others, and she tensed at the thought of accidentally embarrassing herself with her inexperience. Thankfully, she and Beatrice quickly made it out into the open, and Malia couldn't help but take a liberating "breath"—that is, simply going through the motions of breathing out of familiarity's sake.

Outside, Okeanos was alive with activity. Crowds swam throughout the city, deftly avoiding others with practiced movements. A few younger spirits stayed pressed to the sides of buildings, watching the commotion; one group held onto a small dog that seemed eager to chase after everyone that passed. Most spirits gathered in the city square: a central clearing of smooth stone amidst the towering architecture. When Malia neared, she couldn't help but stare at the assortment of people that awaited her.

It took her a moment to remember they were in the Atlantic Ocean, and the spirits that resided there were not just from the Americas, Africa, and Europe, but they were from different time periods as well. While they all shared the same seafoam green-tinted skin and radiant blue eyes, they each had their own defining traits.

A few had hints of traditional jewelry and tattoos adorning their persons, signs of their identity that both death and time could never take from them. Some ignored the recommended streamlined clothing, electing instead to keep their garments of multi-layered pirate attire or outdated navy uniforms. Several were older in appearance, but their steady postures and bright eyes gave them an air of youthfulness. Others were mere children, but their focused and determined expressions indicated that they had years of skill and experience that Malia lacked.

"At least pretend like you're paying attention," Beatrice whispered.

Malia guiltily turned ahead.

Four spirits were perched on a boulder in the center of the square, each equidistant apart and speaking with the crowd directly before them. While the one before Malia spoke English, the others sounded like they were using other languages.

"... scouts report that there are at least a dozen incidents that have or are in the process of occurring," the spirit before Malia's group said. "And as we all know, that number is probably higher. Neighboring cities also have their hands full; for the time being, we can only rely on ourselves. Save as many lives as we can, but be smart about it. Let the ocean guide us."

"Let the ocean guide us," the crowd echoed, Beatrice included.

Malia glanced around awkwardly with wide eyes.

Before she could question what was going on, the crowd dispersed into four groups and zipped like fish through the ocean. Thankfully, Beatrice kept to the back of the group, and Malia no longer had to favor balance over speed.

"This is not what I expected, but it appears you'll receive the 'on the job training' you were hoping for," Beatrice said.

"What happened up there?" Malia asked, straining to keep her voice even. "A storm?"

Beatrice frowned. "You didn't hear?"

Malia mentally chastised herself. "I must've missed it."

For a moment, Beatrice merely stared at her before turning back ahead. "It's... not a storm."

When Beatrice didn't elaborate, Malia could only wait for her to continue on her own. After all, she was already using most of her energy to keep up with the rest of the group.

"They're called ghouls," Beatrice eventually whispered.

"Huh?" was all Malia managed to reply with.

"Ghouls," Beatrice repeated, her gaze still pointed forward. "The most important things about them are that they are dangerous and hate mortals. That, and they hate us for trying to save lives."

Malia had a lot of questions, but not enough energy to ask them. "Okay."

By the time the group began to split off in different directions, Malia had no idea how long they had been swimming for. All she knew was that she was already exhausted, and the most she could do was follow Beatrice as she seemingly led them towards their destination.

"We use the water to detect things when our other senses can't," Beatrice thankfully explained without needing prompting. "All of the oceans are connected somehow; we can sense the energy traveling through the water to know where mortals are in distress."

Malia wondered if Beatrice could sense her current distress, but she was too exhausted to ask.

It didn't take much longer for Malia to hear the danger herself. While she couldn't see it, sounds of crushing stone and metal echoed through the water. And not long after, screams—dozens of people screaming.

"Malia—" Beatrice began, her voice hesitant.

"Go!" Malia said, knowing that Beatrice felt the same growing pit in her chest. "I'll catch up."

Beatrice only glanced back for a second before nodding and swimming ahead, vanishing into the distance not long after.

Malia focused on the point where she disappeared and pushed herself as hard as she could. All the while, she braced herself for the horror that awaited, not wanting to waste time being caught off-guard.

There was nothing that could have prepared her for the destruction she saw.

It was a military submarine, its forward section crushed into a seamount. Beatrice was positioned near the molded metal, straining to keep any more water from rushing into the hull. Sounds of shifting steel groaned; rocks tumbled to the ocean floor.

The screams echoed within Malia's head. Blaring sirens pierced the air. Her body stumbled and swayed. Red lights blinded her vision.

"Go, kid! Run!"

"Malia!" Beatrice yelled. "Help!"

Malia's body ached and trembled, but she shook it off and surged forward.

"We need to get it back to the surface!" Beatrice said tightly once Malia joined her. "I called for backup, but it'll take time. We have to hold the water back for as long as we can!"

As soon as Malia began to help, the incredible feat felt impossible. She wasn't sure if she was even doing anything, as if she was straining herself just by trying to connect to the water that pushed against them. Even if that was the case, she had to do everything she could to save as many people as possible, and she continued to follow Beatrice's lead as they held on for the lives within.

But with just the two of them, even Malia knew that by the time backup arrived, the ship would be flooded and all the lives inside would be lost. Because the longer they held the water back, the heavier it grew, desperately trying to reach equilibrium. They were battling against physics, and the laws of science would always win.

So maybe they had to make science work in their favor.

"We have to point this thing down!" Malia shouted through gritted teeth.

"What?"

"Point it down!" Malia repeated. "The remaining air will get trapped inside by the pressure from the water!"

The was assuming there wasn't a hole in the back too, but Malia didn't have enough energy to voice caveats.

"Are you mad?" Beatrice exclaimed. "We barely have enough energy to hold a little water back, and you want to control enough to move this monstrosity?"

Malia eyed the gaping hole at the front of the submarine. "I'll take care of it."

"And the mortals inside? What will happen to them when the floor becomes a wall?"

"I got it." Malia looked Beatrice in the eyes. "Do you trust me?"

"Hardly," Beatrice answered without missing a beat. "But hell with it. Do what you have to."

So Malia did. She released the water to swim towards the front of the ship, then squeezed past the crushed steel and followed the path of the flood inside.

Luckily, and unluckily, the water reached the inhabited sections of the submarine. The first sailor that saw her was attempting to drag their unconscious shipmate out of the icy sea, and they yelped and tripped as soon as Malia poked her head out of the water.

"Hey! Hey!" Malia exclaimed at the blubbering sailor. "Focus up, okay? Who's in charge here?"

It clearly wasn't the sailor who, upon second glance, was likely straight out of high school. And it didn't seem like they understood the question either as they remained on the deck of the submarine, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

"Do you want to live?" Malia shouted.

The sailor frantically nodded.

"Then get me someone that knows what they're doing."

"But—" the sailor began.

And before Malia could scold them for holding things up, the sailor pointed a shaky finger at their downed shipmate.

They were about the same age as their conscious friend, but their pale complexion and stream of blood down the side of their face weren't good signs. And when Malia reached out to them through the ocean, the water around them felt colder than she expected.

"I know," the sailor said, their voice breaking. "I know that they're..." They swallowed their tears, but it did nothing to stop what was already trickling down their freckled cheeks. "But I can't leave them. I can't."

Malia froze. She didn't know why those words resonated within her, nor why she wordlessly used the water to heave the lifeless sailor fully onto the deck. But once she had, she took a deep breath out of habit and refocused her mind.

"Get me someone in charge."

Again, the sailor nodded before scampering away, dragging their friend with them.

A minute later, they returned, this time with a slightly older officer in tow. The latter froze when their eyes met Malia, but before she could scold them as well, they quickly recovered their senses in favor of a stern stare.

"What the hell are you?" they asked firmly, their voice only slightly shaky.

"Someone that's trying to save you." Malia tried to straighten her posture to look even a hint taller, but her exhaustion didn't let her get far. "We want to point this thing downwards. Can you do that?"

The officer's tough persona dropped instantly. "Downwards? Are you crazy? Are you trying to steer us into the ground now?"

"Well, at this point, it doesn't look like you're getting anywhere!" Malia snapped. "You point downwards, and you trap the rest of the air inside. That should buy you enough time to call for help."

"Like an upside-down cup underwater!" the young sailor chimed in, only to receive the same bewildered stare that Malia was gifted with.

"Do you have a better idea?" Malia asked the officer.

Thankfully, it only took a few seconds of deliberation for the officer to sigh with defeat.

"We can transfer air to our aft ballast tanks," they said. "That might not be enough though; we don't normally try to go straight down."

"It will be," Malia said, even though she wasn't sure herself. "As soon as you do, tell everyone to brace themselves."

Surprisingly, the officer nodded without argument. "I still don't know who the hell you are, but I just hope this works."

Malia gulped. "Me too."

When she rejoined Beatrice outside of the hull, she expected to be berated for showing herself to mortals or something similar. Instead, Beatrice gave her a short nod before returning her attention to the ship; whether the action signaled her approval or exhaustion wasn't clear.

It was several minutes before the ship began to shift, but it felt like ages given the struggle Malia and Beatrice—mainly Beatrice—endured. But as soon as it moved on its own, the difference in effort required by them was apparent, and it didn't take long for the submarine to stand tall in the water. Once it was there, all they needed to do was keep it upright.

While balancing the vessel was easier than keeping water out of it, it was still a relief when their backup arrived. And with a dozen extra hands, they managed to easily excavate the water that flooded the ship before carrying it to the surface.

Just as some of the spirits were crushing the jagged metal closed, just enough to keep most of the water out, Malia spotted something on the ocean floor.

"Wait!" she shouted, and without pausing to answer follow-up questions, she dove as fast as she could.

Resting on the soft sand was the young sailor whose shipmate futilely tried to save. Just like before, the water around them felt much too cold, even though their unweathered skin and youthful appearance should have indicated otherwise. And at the sight of their pale complexion tinted blue in the waters that killed them, Malia felt as if she was dying as well.

"They're gone," Beatrice whispered from beside her; when she arrived, Malia didn't know. "If they were meant to be a water spirit, the ocean would have made it known already. I... I'm sorry Malia. They're dead."

Why? Why did someone so young have to die in such a terrible way? Life wasn't fair, and Malia was well aware of that; that didn't mean she couldn't be mad about the injustices around her. And as she continued to ruminate about the life stolen by the icy waters around her, her chest began to burn with rage.

The next time she glanced at the sailor's face, she saw their shipmate and their mournful desperation.

Of course. Even if there was no life in them, they were still alive in others. The other young sailor certainly thought so, judging by the way they risked their own life to preserve their shipmate's memory. There were bound to be others on land, or even just one person, that the late sailor could continue to live through.

Malia couldn't do anything to save the life before her, but maybe she could at least help the ones they left behind.

Before she registered what she was doing, Malia was already using the water to lift the sailor up and carry them with her to the submarine. By then, it was surfaced and righted, but the other spirits left an opening just wide enough for Malia to slip through.

She heard the broken sobs before she saw the source: the young sailor's friend was bawling at the water's edge with the officer grimly standing behind them. The latter saw Malia first, and they nudged their junior before nodding at her.

"Thank you," they said, their own voice strained. "You saved us."

"It wasn't just me," Malia simply said, not wanting to share too much information. She turned to their junior. "I'm... I'm sorry about your friend."

The young sailor sniffed and nodded, seemingly doing everything in their power to hold back the rest of their tears.

"This may not mean much," Malia struggled to keep her own voice even, "but I thought if they should have one last resting place, it should be at home, not here."

When she gently lay the sailor on the deck, there was nothing to stop the cries that escaped their friend, nor their superior officer.

"Thank you," the officer managed to say. "You have no idea how much this means, but... thank you."

Malia paused at their words. They were right; she didn't know how much it meant to them. But should she? Had anyone on land cried for her when she didn't return? After all, anyone she could have been close to was pushed away by her ambition. And the people that encouraged her drive were likely disappointed that she hadn't achieved more.

Maybe they were right. She failed to meet expectations when she was on land; she couldn't even succeed after death.

If they had gotten there just a little earlier, would the young sailor still be alive? If Malia had focused more on her training, would none of this have happened? Beatrice had told her she wasn't ready, so why didn't Malia listen?

She had the potential to save a life, but she didn't. She failed.

"We won't tell anyone about you," the officer continued, likely assuming that Malia's wariness was the source of her silence. "We'll... I don't know, but we'll figure out something. Your secret is safe with us. It's the least we can do."

Malia didn't care at all about staying hidden, even if the others might, but she still nodded automatically.

"Thank you."

And before she could ponder their words any longer, she dove back into the water, hoping that the icy chill would burn her thoughts away.

---