By the time they reached the lake, the sky was bleeding pale gold over the horizon. Dawn was slowly peeling back the dark, but the fog still clung thick and low over the waters like a jealous secret. The lake—still, cold, and massive—glimmered beneath it, almost too silent.
They halted their horses by the edge of the cliff overlooking the lake, the water below vast and glassy. Their breaths were shallow, ragged from the hard ride, but no one spoke for a moment. The weight of the unknown pressed down on all of them.
Salviana slid off Alaric's horse and stepped forward, her eyes scanning the still surface. "This is where the ashes must've been poured," she whispered.
"Feels eerie enough."
Lucius dismounted next, his jaw tight. "Then I'm going into the lake."
"What?" Salviana snapped her head toward him. "Lucius, I don't think that's a good idea."
"She could be trapped somewhere beneath. If there's even a chance she's alive—"
