The village of Morwen lay quiet in the mist, a place forgotten by the world. It was surrounded by dark woods, and at its heart slept a wide, still lake. The villagers said it had no bottom, and that sometimes, if you listened at night, you could hear it whisper. No one dared go near after sunset. But one girl did.

Her name was Lira.

She was seventeen, with curious eyes and a heart that never feared the dark. Her grandmother used to warn her, “Never go near the lake after dusk. The water remembers.” But when her grandmother passed away, the whispers began calling her by name. Soft at first, like wind on glass.

“Lira…”

She thought she was dreaming. Until one night, she woke to the sound of dripping water inside her room. She sat up, her window open to the fog, and the whisper came again.

“Lira… come see what waits below…”

Her heart raced. She stood by the window and saw the trail of wet footprints leading away toward the woods small, like a child’s. The air turned colder. Against all reason, she followed.

The moon hung low, a pale coin in the mist. Every branch seemed to reach for her. The forest grew thicker, darker, until the trees opened and the lake appeared smooth, black, endless. It reflected no moon, no sky, just darkness.

Then she saw it a girl standing on the water.

The figure wore a white dress that floated around her like fog. Her hair was long, tangled, and dripping. Her face was pale but blurred, as if the lake itself was shaping her features.

“Who are you?” Lira whispered.

The girl smiled. “You called me.”

“I… I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. You’ve been listening to me since you were small.” Her voice was like many voices soft, broken, echoing through the air. “You remember the night you almost drowned, don’t you?”

Lira froze. She had fallen into the lake when she was six. Her grandmother pulled her out. She never spoke of what she saw beneath something pulling her, whispering promises.

“You belong here, Lira,” said the girl. “You left me behind that day.”

“What are you talking about?”

The figure tilted her head. “I am you. The one who never came back.”

Suddenly, the water rippled. Hands pale, thin, countless reached out from the lake’s surface, touching her ankles, her wrists. Lira screamed and stumbled

“Don’t fight it,” the voice whispered. “You’ve been hearing us all your life. We only want you back.”

The hands pulled harder. She fell to her knees, screaming, as the water dragged her closer. Her reflection’s mouth opened wide.....

She wrapped a shawl around her and stepped outside. The mist curled around her feet as she followed the voice through the forest. The air grew colder with every step. When she reached the lake, everything went silent no crickets, no wind, only the faint ripple of water.