The lake had always been quiet.
Not peaceful.
Not calm.
Quiet.
There was a difference.
Peace felt alive. It breathed. It moved gently.This lake did not breathe.
It watched.
Elara Vance hadn't meant to return.
She told herself that at least three times as the gravel road curved toward the water. The town had barely changed in the five years she'd been gone. Same leaning fences. Same tired streetlamps. Same sky that always seemed slightly too gray.
But the lake—
The lake looked exactly the same.
Wide. Black. Unmoving.
It stretched across the horizon like a slit carved into the earth.
She stepped out of her car slowly.
The air smelled like wet wood and something older. Something metallic.
Her boots crunched softly over gravel as she approached the dock. It creaked under her weight, the sound sharp in the stillness.
No birds.
No wind.
No insects.
Just her breathing.
The surface of the water reflected the evening sky perfectly. Too perfectly. It looked like a sheet of dark glass laid over an endless pit.
She swallowed.
"You're being dramatic," she muttered to herself.
But she didn't believe it.
She hadn't stood here since that night.
The memory tried to surface — cold water, screaming, hands slipping — but she shoved it down like she always did.
Five years ago, a girl drowned here.
Mira Holloway.
Her best friend.
They said it was an accident.
They said Elara had tried to save her.
They said she was lucky to be alive.
But sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, Elara wasn't sure that was true.
She stepped off the dock.
The water accepted her without a sound.
It was colder than she expected. The chill crawled up her ankles, then her calves, clinging like invisible fingers. She inhaled sharply but kept going.
Waist-deep.
Chest-deep.
The fabric of her black dress spread around her like spilled ink.
Her heartbeat thudded loudly in her ears.
"See?" she whispered to herself. "It's just water."
She looked down.
Her reflection stared back.
Same pale face.
Same dark hair.
Same scar just beneath her collarbone — the one she never talked about.
For a moment, everything felt normal.
Then the surface rippled.
Elara froze.
She hadn't moved.
The ripple widened slowly, distorting her reflection. Her face stretched unnaturally, eyes too long, smile too thin.
She blinked hard.
The water stilled again.
Her reflection returned to normal.
She exhaled shakily.
"You're imagining things."
But then she noticed something small.
Something wrong.
Her reflection was breathing.
She wasn't.
The chest in the water rose gently.
Fell.
Rose.
Fell.
Elara's lungs locked.
Very slowly, she lifted her hand.
The reflection did not follow.
Instead—
It tilted its head.
The movement was subtle.
Curious.
Almost playful.
Her pulse pounded violently now.
"No," she whispered.
The reflection's lips moved.
No sound came from the lake, but she knew what it said.
I remember.
The water around her ankles tightened suddenly.
Not physically.
But she felt it.
Like pressure building beneath the surface.
Her reflection leaned closer to the underside of the water.
Its eyes were darker now.
Not brown.
Not black.
Empty.
And then—
It smiled.
Not her soft, uncertain smile.
Not the polite curve she wore around strangers.
This was wide.
Knowing.
Hungry.
Elara stumbled backward, water splashing violently around her.
The reflection didn't break apart with the movement.
It stayed clear.
Perfect.
Watching.
She turned to climb back onto the dock—
And something brushed against her leg beneath the surface.
Her breath shattered.
It wasn't seaweed.
It wasn't debris.
It felt like fingers.
Cold.
Thin.
Sliding along her calf.
Her scream caught in her throat as something tugged her ankle.
Hard.
She went under.
The lake swallowed her whole.
Darkness flooded her vision. The water was freezing now — suffocating. She kicked wildly, but the pressure around her ankle tightened.
Then she saw it.
Beneath her.
Another her.
Floating upright in the depths.
Hair drifting slowly around her face.
Eyes open.
Waiting.
Bubbles escaped Elara's mouth in frantic bursts.
The thing below her raised a hand.
Not to grab.
Not to pull.
Just to wave.
And then—
Elara was standing on the dock again.
Dry.
Gasping.
The lake completely still.
No ripples.
No signs she had ever stepped into it.
Her clothes were dry.
Her hair untouched.
Her skin warm.
Her reflection in the water looked normal.
But her ankle—
A thin red handprint circled it.
Five long fingers.
Too long to be human.
The lake remained quiet.
Watching.
And just before she stepped back from the edge—
The reflection blinked.
She didn't.