The moment Dawn stepped past the treeline, the familiar sounds of the academy faded, swallowed by the dense embrace of the forest. The distant chime of the training bells, the chatter of students in the courtyards, even the rhythmic footsteps of patrolling instructors—all of it disappeared, leaving behind only the whisper of wind through leaves and the soft, muted hush of the wilderness.
The forest welcomed him in a way that was both serene and unsettling. He had ventured here before, but tonight was different. The air was thick, not just with the scent of damp earth and foliage, but with something unseen, something watching. It prickled at the edges of his awareness, a sensation he couldn't shake.
His mission was clear: retrieve the fruit from the towering tree visible even from the academy's walls. A task simple in instruction, but no doubt designed to test endurance, navigation, and survival skills. Yet beneath that official assignment lay another, far more cryptic directive—one whispered to him in hushed tones by a figure whose face remained obscured in the recesses of his mind. His fellow students knew nothing of it.
As he pressed forward, the forest began to shift.
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Hours passed as he made his way deeper into the wilderness, his body moving on instinct even as his mind wavered between focus and exhaustion. The ground beneath him grew softer, the thick bed of fallen leaves muffling his footsteps. The deeper he went, the more the forest seemed to change—not just in appearance, but in feeling. The trees here were ancient, their trunks massive, their roots weaving through the soil like grasping hands. Their branches tangled together above him, creating a canopy so dense that only thin, silver slivers of moonlight pierced through.
Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted—a sound so distant it might as well have come from another world. Dawn adjusted the weight of his pack, his fingers tightening briefly around the leather strap. He had planned to rest soon, but just as he considered stopping, something caught his eye.
A glimmer.
Between the trees ahead, past the darkness and the shadows, a soft glow pulsed like a beacon.
He stepped forward, drawn by the quiet radiance. As he moved, the trees thinned, revealing a clearing unlike any he had encountered before.
At its center lay a lake.
A perfect crescent, its surface impossibly smooth, undisturbed by wind or drifting leaves. The waters did not merely reflect the sky above—they glowed with it, shimmering as if the very stars had melted into its depths. Silver and blue hues swirled across its surface, an illusion of motion despite the stillness. The sight was mesmerizing, yet unnervingly unnatural.
Dawn hesitated at the edge, his instincts warning him that this was no ordinary body of water. There was an energy here, something ancient and unmoving. The forest had been silent before, but this silence was different. Heavy. Expectant.
Slowly, cautiously, he knelt at the shore. The water's edge was cool beneath his fingers, damp earth clinging to his skin. He reached out.
The moment his fingertips brushed the surface, the world shifted.
A tremor passed through his hand—not from cold, but from something deeper, something that reached beyond his skin and into his very being. The water rippled outward in slow waves, distorting the celestial glow.
Then the reflection changed.
Gone was the image of the moonlit sky.
Instead, he saw himself.
But not as he was now.
He stood at the base of a colossal mountain, a jagged titan that clawed at the sky. Mist wove through the crags like ghostly tendrils, obscuring the summit far above. A path stretched up its face—faintly visible, yet fractured. The stone steps were broken in places, blocked in others. Jagged cliffs jutted out at impossible angles, and along the way, dark figures stood, unmoving.
Behemoths.
Their forms were vast, their features lost in shadow. Yet even without details, Dawn knew—they were not simply obstacles. They were guardians. Sentinels of something beyond his understanding.
And then there was the shadow.
Behind him, stretching infinitely, shifting, pressing at the edges of his vision. It was neither a presence nor an absence. It simply was. A force beyond comprehension, unseen yet undeniable.
Dawn inhaled sharply.
Then he blinked.
The vision shattered.
The lake was as it had been—placid, untouched, reflecting only his own weary face. Dust clung to his skin, his clothes bore the marks of his journey, but the faint tremor in his fingers told him he had not imagined what he saw.
He exhaled, trying to steady his thoughts.
The lake shows the past?
No. That wasn't quite right. It had not shown him something forgotten. It had shown him something buried.
A memory? Or something else entirely?
His mind replayed the vision—the mountain, the broken path, the behemoths standing watch. But it was the shadow that lingered most. He could not place it, could not define it, but deep in his bones, he felt it.
This was no ordinary lake.
Something had bled into this land, something celestial, something beyond the laws of nature. The way the waters bent time and space—it was not natural.
Was it fate that had led him here? Or had he strayed from his intended path into something far older and far less forgiving?
Either way, the answer would not come tonight.
Dawn straightened, flexing his fingers as if trying to shake off the sensation of the water. His mission had nothing to do with this lake, and he was already losing precious time. The towering tree—the true goal—lay deeper in the forest.
He cast one last glance at the lake.
It had returned to stillness, as if nothing had disturbed it at all. Yet something inside him had changed.
Whatever the lake had shown him, whatever lay beyond that mountain in his vision—one day, he would have to face it.
And when that day came, he would not be the same.
With that thought buried deep, Dawn turned and walked away. The forest swallowed him once more, and the lake behind him remained as silent as the stars within it.