The laughter started to fade sometime after midnight. The lake had gone quiet except for the lapping of water against the old wooden posts, a slow, rhythmic pulse like the sound of something breathing beneath the surface.
Clayne and Jarvis had built a small fire from branches and old cardboard boxes they found in the truck bed. The flames danced low, throwing orange shadows across their faces, bending and stretching them like melted wax. Someone's speaker hummed softly with a song that had long stopped being played—just static now, a heartbeat of electricity.
Lucca tossed an empty can into the fire and watched it twist in the flames. "Man," he said, "this spot's got a weird vibe. Like we shouldn't be here."
Abud snorted. "You're drunk, man. Everything's got a weird vibe when you're drunk."
"Maybe," Lucca said. "But maybe not."
The conversation fizzled after that. Rayanne was stretched out on the grass, looking up at the stars. Clayne was nodding off with his cap pulled down low. Chlaire had left earlier with the other girls, claiming her mom would kill her if she stayed past midnight. She hadn't looked at Marlo when she said goodbye. She hadn't needed to.
Marlo sat near the dying fire, knees pulled close, staring into the embers. His mind kept returning to the house across the lake — the way it seemed to fade when he tried to focus on it. Like something was choosing not to be seen.
"Yo," Lucca said suddenly, standing and dusting off his jeans. "I'm gonna take a leak. Don't let Clayne burn himself to death."
He wandered off into the treeline, flashlight beam swinging across the dark.
Abud looked up. "Don't go too far, man. There's snakes out there."
Lucca lifted a hand without turning. "There's snakes everywhere," he said. "Some just wear shoes."
The woods swallowed him whole.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
The group started packing up — tossing cans into a trash bag, kicking dirt over the fire. Clayne was half-asleep in the passenger seat by the time Marlo realized Lucca hadn't come back.
He looked toward the trees. Nothing but blackness. "Hey," he said, "did Lucca head back to the road?"
Rayanne frowned. "Nah. He said he was just taking a piss."
Abud cupped his hands. "LUCCA!"
The name echoed across the lake, bounced off the water, and came back softer, emptier.
No answer.
Abud swore under his breath. "Probably passed out behind a tree. Idiot."
Still, there was something in the air — a shift. The cicadas had gone silent. The wind had died. Even the fire's smoke drifted straight up like it didn't dare move.
Marlo grabbed the flashlight and started walking toward the woods. "I'll go check," he said.
The ground softened the deeper he went. Leaves stuck to his shoes. The flashlight beam sliced through the dark, illuminating tree bark, spiderwebs, and the pale bones of branches reaching overhead.
"Lucca!" he called again. "Come on, man, we're leaving!"
Something cracked behind him — a branch maybe, or footsteps.
He turned, but the light caught only dust motes drifting through the air.
He swallowed, scanning the trees. His pulse thudded in his ears.
Then, faintly, he heard it: a splash.
From the direction of the lake.
Marlo jogged toward the sound, breaking through the treeline until he reached the narrow slope where the water began. His flashlight beam caught the edge of something — a ripple that shouldn't have been there.
"Lucca?" he called, voice trembling just enough to notice.
The beam moved across the water. Nothing.
Just dark, endless reflection.
And then—something glinted near the rocks.
He knelt down. It was Lucca's chain — the one he always wore, a thin silver link broken clean at the clasp.
Marlo's throat tightened. He looked out across the lake again, toward the far shore where the pale shape of the house had been. It was gone now. Or maybe it was never there.
He backed away slowly. "Abud!" he shouted. "Rayanne!"
His voice came out sharper this time, cutting through the still air.
The others came running.
Clayne blinked groggily. "What the hell happened?"
Marlo held up the chain. "He's not here."
"Not here how?" Rayanne asked, his voice cracking.
"Gone," Marlo said. "Just gone."
They stood there, flashlights sweeping over the lake, the trees, the empty darkness that stared right back at them.
Abud grabbed his phone and tried to get signal — nothing. Not even one bar.
Clayne kicked at the dirt. "We'll come back tomorrow morning. It's dark. He probably walked back to the road."
But Marlo didn't move. His eyes were still fixed on the lake. Something deep inside told him this wasn't a prank or a stumble. It wasn't even an accident.
Something had taken Lucca.
And whatever it was — it was watching them now.
A faint ripple spread across the water again. Small. Slow. Like a finger trailing just beneath the surface