Chapter 1
A layer of pearl-gray fog blanketed the lake like a shroud of mourning, tendrils curling at the edges where water met shore.
The obsidian surface lay unnaturally still, glassy and opaque, not a single ripple betraying the ancient presence lurking in its depths.
And indeed, that life had retreated into the darkest trenches, its cephalopodan body contracting with each memory-pulse, grieving the loss of a friend, a lover, the only way a being of water and thought knew how.
It longed for connection again—for the passion that had once stirred its primordial cells, for the intellectual bonds that had awakened parts of itself it never knew existed.
For now, it curled beneath the silty lakebed, coiled among fossilized remnants of eras past, left with only memories of the human who, rather than regard it as a monster.
.. had traced reverent fingers along its tentacled form and loved it as both friend and companion.
It remembered with visceral clarity the little boy who came from time to time, his small feet kicking up sprays of diamond droplets as he played with it.
The sweet, innocent laughter—like silver bells through water—still echoed in the hollow chambers of its spirit.
But the boy stopped coming, his footprints along the shore erased by time and tide.
Then its beloved—its Quinn—departed forever into that mysterious realm where humans go when their bodies fail…
leaving only the cold embrace of solitude.
The memory of Quinn's final promise—‘I will have to leave you soon…
but you won't be alone’—drifted like a dying star through the vast emptiness of its consciousness.
A hollow ache spread through its tendrils, an agony without name that humans might call heartbreak.
It reached desperately for memories of Quinn's touch, trying to wrap itself in phantom sensations that dissolved like mist through its grasp, leaving only the raw wound of absence.
The muddy floor of the lake quaked with its silent, primal keening.
It yearned for Quinn with the desperate intensity of a drowning creature seeking air, even as the terrible truth crystallized in its being: humans wither, humans fade, humans die.
Quinn wasn't coming back.
Graham was ten when he realized he was gay—and that being gay came with a stigma.
He got the memo, so to speak, the first time he tried holding his best friend’s hand.
Graham had always preferred boys over girls, dating back to first grade; he just hadn’t known there was a term or label for it until he acted on his feelings.
For him, liking boys felt natural. He didn’t realize it put a target on his back.
That day in his bedroom, his shoulder bumped against Ryan's as they leaned forward, thumbs mashing controller buttons.
The television screen flashed with explosions, their laughter punctuating each ridiculous death animation.
The game controllers warming in their hands, his fingers had simply drifted across the space between them on the carpet.
His pinky brushed Ryan's knuckles first, then his palm settled over his friend's hand, as natural as breathing.
The controller in Ryan's other hand stilled.
A character died onscreen, music blaring defeat.
Ryan's palm went clammy, then slipped away.
“I should probably head home,” he mumbled, already gathering his backpack, eyes fixed on the carpet.
The door clicked shut before the victory fanfare had finished playing.
When he saw Ryan at school, he didn’t want to hang out with Graham and said they weren’t friends anymore. After that, other boys started teasing Graham, calling him names he didn’t understand.
Graham had gone home crying and rushed straight to his room. His grandpa was the one who came to talk to him. Graham told him everything between hiccupping sobs, not understanding why Ryan—his best friend—suddenly didn’t like him anymore, or why the other boys were being mean to him.
His Grandpa explained what was happening: Graham was gay, which meant he was attracted to boys rather than girls.
He also explained that some people disagreed with it and thought it was wrong.
He talked to Graham “man to man”, rather than treating him like a little kid, and Graham appreciated that.
Then his grandpa told him a secret; he was gay, too.
He asked Graham not to tell his parents or anyone.
Not because he was ashamed, but because it was very personal to him, almost sacred.
He told Graham that he had nothing to be ashamed of and that he should be proud of who he is.
“Should I tell Mom and Dad that I’m gay?” Graham asked.
“That’s a decision only you can make,” his grandpa said. “But if you do, I’ll be right there with you, supporting you.”
Graham told his parents. They weren’t upset but thought he was too young to truly know if he was gay.
For the most part, they dismissed it. When he later told them what his grandpa said, he overheard them arguing with the old man.
After that, Graham was no longer allowed to visit the cabin on the lake.
They didn’t want his grandpa filling his head with ideas about being gay when, at most, he was just going through a phase.
That’s when Graham started pretending he liked girls.
Soon after, the other boys stopped teasing him, and by the time he reached high school, he had almost convinced himself he was completely straight.
His grandfather, whom he saw less often, didn’t bring up his sexuality after Graham insisted he liked girls.
He let Graham choose who he wanted to be, although he seemed to sense a sadness settling into the old man.
Graham didn’t understand the sadness at first.
He did now.
When Graham was sixteen, his grandfather fell ill.
Although he had maintained a close relationship with his grandpa, it wasn’t as strong as when he was a little kid—when he used to spend summers at the lake with the old man.
Something was lost between them when Graham stopped going to the cabin, as if something almost magical had been tied to the lake cabin.
He barely remembered his visits to the lake now—just fragments of memories.
But he never forgot how special the lake was to his grandfather.
Even at sixteen, Graham kept the Lochlan Lake storybooks his grandpa had made for him.
As Graham stepped into the hospital for the first time since his grandfather was admitted, a sudden weight settled in his chest, and at the same time, he felt hollow.
He’d never seen his grandpa look so frail.
He had always been a “strapping” outdoorsman with plenty of vitality and energy, even in old age.
Seeing him lying in the hospital bed, surrounded by monitors and tubes, it struck Graham that his grandpa wasn’t immortal…
he wouldn’t live forever—the way it had seemed to Graham when he was a child.
“Grandpa?” Graham hesitated as he approached the bed, nearly wishing that this frail old man wasn’t truly his grandpa Quinn—that there had been a mistake and the doctors had mixed up this man with his strong, healthy grandfather.
The old man’s eyes opened slowly, then lit up when he saw Graham. He smiled, though it appeared tired and feeble. “Graham… my boy.”
Graham blinked back tears; he hadn’t spent much time with his grandpa since starting high school, always busy with friends or homework.
As he looked at him now, guilt filled him.
His grandfather had confessed to being gay—a secret Graham had kept to himself—but his own rejection of his sexuality somehow felt like a rejection of his grandpa, as if he were ashamed of the old man.
Was that why his grandpa had become sad, thinking his grandson no longer looked up to or respected him?
Nothing could be further from the truth.
“How are you feeling, Grandpa?” Graham pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. Tears filled his eyes.
His grandpa weakly grasped his hand. “It’s okay, Graham. It’s all a part of life. No one gets to stay here forever.” A deep sadness resonated in his voice and etched his weathered face.
Graham hung his head. “I’m sorry, Grandpa.”
“Sorry for what?”
Graham sniffed and wiped his eyes. “For not spending more time with you. For… making you sad because I didn’t want to be…
gay.” He looked up, tears streaming down his face.
“I was never ashamed of you, Grandpa. I promise, I wasn’t.
I just… I couldn’t be gay, too… I was too afraid.
” He swallowed hard. “Are you ashamed of me?”
“Ashamed...?” The old man’s eyes welled up with emotion.
“Never, Graham. I've never been ashamed of you. Only you have the right to choose your path. Just don’t let others intimidate you into hiding who you truly are. I spent my entire life in secrecy, but not due to others’ opinions—there were personal reasons behind it. ”
“Did Grandma Em know you were…?”
“Yes. She’s the only one who knew.”
“Why did you marry her if you were gay?”
His grandpa smiled. “That’s a story I can’t tell. But know, I did love her… as much as a man can love a woman without being in love with her.”
Graham rubbed his nose, eyes glistening. “Should I marry a woman, too?” he whispered. “I’ve gone on dates with girls. Even had a girlfriend. I keep trying to feel… normal… but I just… don’t.”
“It’s because that isn’t normal for you,” his grandpa said softly, squeezing his hand.
“There is no one normal. Every person is different, and each of us…” A wistful look crept into his eyes.
“… loves differently. Not everyone is going to understand you… or your heart. And that’s okay, as long as you understand you. ”
Quietly clearing his throat, Graham asked, “Were you ever in love, Grandpa?”
The old man smiled warmly, a hint of sadness shining in his eyes. “Yes. He was very special.”
“What happened with him?”
“We spent many, many years together… secretly.” His face shone with deep love. “And though we couldn’t live a traditional life together, our connection was deeper and stronger than anything I had ever imagined love could be.”
Graham held the old man’s hand, his heart breaking. Although he hadn’t spent much time with his grandpa over the past few years, he still felt like his grandpa was the only one who truly understood him. “I don’t want you to go,” he whispered with a tremor. “I still need you.”
“You’re going to be fine, Graham,” his grandpa murmured. “And I’ll always be with you.”
Graham bit his lower lip, his chin trembling. “What if… What if I never find someone special to love?”
“You will,” the old man whispered, gently squeezing his hand. “Because you’re special.”
“I don’t feel special.” Graham closed his eyes as tears slid down his face.
“You are, my boy,” his grandpa said softly. “And because you are…” He held Graham’s hand a little tighter. “I want you to look after my lake for me. Take care of it… protect it.”
Graham looked at him, vision swimming. “You want me to…” The cabin and lake were almost sacred to his grandfather.
“Yes,” his grandpa said with deep emotion. “You’re the only one I trust to care for it… as I cared for it.” He smiled through his tears. “It’s yours now. Love it… and it will love you back.”
Graham wasn’t sure what he meant, but somewhere deep inside, in a hidden part of himself, he understood what his grandfather was telling him.
That night, his grandpa passed away.
His final wish? That his ashes be spread across the waters of his beloved lake, his final resting place.
Two years passed before his wish was fulfilled.