The trees thin as we descend toward the lake, their trunks widening into a natural corridor. The ground softens beneath my boots, damp with old mud and scattered reeds. The air changes too. It grows colder, sharper, tinged with the metallic scent of still water. A faint mist rises from the lake surface, drifting low like a veil.
I stop at the edge of the clearing.
The lake lies before me, vast and dark, its smooth surface reflecting the pale light filtering through the clouds. For a moment, it looks exactly as it did when we were children. Quiet. Beautiful. Innocent.
But memory is cruel.
Because I remember the day Adrian pushed me under the water and held me there too long. At first we laughed. Then the laughter broke. Then I stopped fighting. And he smiled when I finally resurfaced, s
