Siegfried did not remember falling asleep, only waking to a cold that felt older than the night itself. The fire had burned down to a bed of dull embers, their glow smothered beneath a thin layer of ash. No birds greeted the morning. No insects stirred. Even the waterfall's whisper had softened, as though the water feared to make sound.
The sky above the clearing was a muted gray, heavy and low, as if dawn had tried to rise and failed.
Vinrah was already on her feet, cloak drawn tight, scanning the treeline with a frown carved deep into her face. "Something's wrong," she muttered. "The air's too still."
Siegfried rose, hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his sword. The pond lay motionless, its surface a perfect mirror of the colorless sky. No ripples. No mist. No sign that anything had ever emerged from its depths.
But he felt watched all the same.
As the riders broke camp, the forest revealed its changes.
The trees seemed closer than before not merely growing thick, but leaning inward, their branches arching like ribs over a narrowing path. Roots twisted across the ground in patterns that felt deliberate, almost script‑like. The air carried a faint metallic tang, the same scent that had clung to the soil near the pond.
Ellina stepped from the carriage, her veil brushing her shoulders. She paused, head tilted slightly, as though listening to something beneath the earth.
"It shifted in the night," she said quietly. "The forest rearranges itself."
Vinrah stared at her. "Forests don't rearrange themselves."
Ellina didn't argue.
She didn't need to.
Siegfried approached the pond one last time before they departed. Something tugged at him not curiosity, but a sense of unfinished business.
The surface remained still.
Too still.
Then, just as he turned to leave, a single ripple spread across the water.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Centered exactly where the siren had stood.
No figure rose.
No voice whispered.
But the message was clear.
The forest has not forgotten you.
Siegfried stepped back, breath tight in his chest.
Vinrah barked the order to move, her voice sharper than usual. The riders mounted quickly, eager to leave the clearing behind. Even the horses seemed relieved to turn away from the pond.
As the company rode out, the forest swallowed the clearing behind them, branches knitting overhead until the campsite was lost from sight.
The path ahead was darker than before.
Narrower.
Less certain.
Siegfried rode at the front, the siren's words echoing in his mind like a distant current beneath ice.
You walk in borrowed shadow.
He didn't know what it meant.
But he knew the forest did.
And it was waiting.
The company pressed on, leaving the strange clearing behind. The forest closed around them immediately, branches knitting overhead until the sky vanished entirely. The path wound like a serpent, narrowing and widening without reason, as though the land itself were deciding where they could walk.
The air grew damp.
Cooler.
Carrying the faint scent of fresh water.
Siegfried noticed it first a subtle change in the wind, a whisper of open space ahead. "There's a break coming," he said quietly.
Vinrah nodded, relief flickering across her face. "If there's water, we'll stop. The horses need it."
Ellina said nothing, but her posture eased slightly, as though she too sensed the shift.
The trees parted suddenly, spilling the company into a wide, open basin. Before them stretched a vast lake, its surface smooth as polished glass. The water reflected the sky in perfect clarity a sky brighter here than anywhere they had seen since entering the deepwood.
A thin line of sandy shore curved along the near edge, dotted with smooth stones and patches of soft grass. A small stream fed into the lake from the north, its gentle babble a welcome contrast to the forest's oppressive silence.
For the first time in days, the riders exhaled.
Vinrah dismounted, rolling her shoulders. "We'll rest here. Refill everything. Hunt if you can. And for the love of the gods, wash the stink of the road off."
A few riders laughed tired, but genuine.
Even the horses relaxed, lowering their heads to drink eagerly from the clear water.
For the first time since entering this dreaded place, the company found a place that felt almost untouched by the forest's shifting moods. The lake's surface shimmered with a muted silver sheen, reflecting the pale sky above. A soft breeze drifted across the water, carrying the scent of wet stone and clean earth a welcome change from the heavy, metallic tang that clung to the deeper woods.
Riders moved with a looseness that had been absent for days. Armor was unbuckled. Boots were pulled off. The tension in their shoulders eased as they stepped into the shallows, the cold-water biting at their skin in a way that felt grounding rather than threatening.
Siegfried knelt at the shore, rinsing the grime from his arms. The water was shockingly cold, but it cleared his mind, washing away the lingering echo of the siren's voice. He splashed his face, letting the chill settle into his bones.
Behind him, two riders hauled in a net of silver‑scaled fish, their laughter echoing across the basin. Another pair gathered driftwood for a cooking fire, the crackle of dry bark promising warmth and food.
For a moment a fragile, fleeting moment the world felt normal.
Vinrah waded waist‑deep into the lake, her hair unbound for the first time since the journey began. She dipped beneath the surface, emerging with a sharp gasp, water streaming down her face. "Cold enough to wake the dead," she muttered, though the faint smile tugging at her mouth betrayed her relief.
A few riders followed her lead, splashing each other, scrubbing away sweat and dirt, letting the lake's chill wash the road from their skin. Their laughter was subdued but genuine a sound the forest had not heard in days.
Ellina remained at the shoreline, her veil lifted just enough to feel the breeze. She knelt and cupped water in her hands, letting it slip through her fingers. The lake did not recoil from her touch, nor did it reach for her. It simply existed calm, ancient, indifferent.
Siegfried approached her, boots sinking slightly into the damp sand. "You're not bathing?"
Ellina shook her head. "Not yet. They need this more than I do."
Her voice was soft, but there was a quiet certainty beneath it.
"I'll go in when the water is still again."
Siegfried studied her for a moment. The others were laughing, splashing, shaking water from their hair a rare moment of levity. Ellina watched them with a faint, distant smile, but her posture remained composed, almost ceremonial.
"You want privacy," he said.
"I want quiet," she corrected gently. "And the lake deserves a moment without so many feet stirring it."
He didn't argue. He simply nodded and stepped back, choosing to remain near her rather than return to the others. The two of them stood together at the water's edge, a small pocket of stillness apart from the noise.
Ellina let her fingers trail through the shallows again, watching the ripples spread outward. "It's easier to listen when the world is calm," she murmured. "Easier to understand what the water remembers."
Siegfried glanced at her. "Does it remember us?"
She tilted her head, considering. "It remembers everything. But it pays attention only when it chooses to."
He wasn't sure if that was comforting or not.
Behind them, the riders began to leave the water one by one, drying off, dressing, returning to their tasks. The laughter faded. The splashing stopped. The lake slowly smoothed back into a mirror.
Ellina rose, brushing sand from her palms.
"It's ready now."
Siegfried stepped aside, giving her space without being asked.
He didn't look away but he didn't stare, either.
He simply stood guard, as he always did, as she stepped into the water alone.
The lake accepted her in silence.
She loosened the ties of her outer garments with slow, deliberate movements, stepping into the water with the quiet grace of someone entering a sacred place.
Siegfried remained on the shore, close enough to guard her, far enough to give her the privacy she'd asked for. He turned slightly away, eyes on the treeline, though he kept her silhouette in the corner of his vision.
The lake accepted her without a ripple of resistance.
The water rose to her waist, then her ribs, then her shoulders.
She exhaled, a soft sound carried across the still surface.
"You can look," she said gently. "I'm not made of glass."
Siegfried kept his gaze forward. "I'm here to keep watch. Not to intrude."
A faint laugh drifted from the water quiet, almost surprised. "You think too much of intrusion. The forest sees more of me than you ever will."
He didn't know how to answer that.
Ellina dipped beneath the surface, her hair fanning out like dark silk in the silver water. When she rose again, she pushed the wet strands back with both hands, droplets sliding down her arms like tiny beads of glass. Her veil lay folded on a smooth stone nearby, untouched by the breeze. Without it, she seemed softer, more human — and somehow more dangerous.
"You're troubled," she said softly, her voice carrying across the still lake like a ripple.
Siegfried frowned, arms crossed, boots planted firmly in the sand. "You can tell that from out there?"
Ellina drifted a little closer, the water parting around her in slow, elegant rings. "I could tell it before we reached the lake."
Her tone was gentle, but there was a glimmer beneath it a quiet amusement, a knowing warmth.
The lake reflected her in broken fragments: pale shoulders, dark hair, eyes that caught the light like polished stone. She looked at him as though she could see straight through the armor he wore, both the steel and the kind he didn't speak of.
"The siren's words cling to you," she murmured.
He stiffened. "She spoke nonsense."
"Did she?"
Ellina tilted her head, water sliding down her neck in a thin, shimmering line.
"Or did she speak in a language you haven't learned yet?"
Siegfried's jaw tightened. "She said I walk in borrowed shadow. I don't know what that means."
Ellina studied him — really studied him her gaze lingering with a softness that made his breath catch. "Not all shadows are cast by enemies," she said. "Some follow because they're curious."
He turned toward her fully then, unable to pretend he wasn't affected.
She floated in the water like a figure carved from moonlight, calm, unafraid, and entirely aware of the effect she had on him.
"You know something," he said quietly.
"I know many things."
Her lips curved, not quite a smile, but close.
"But knowledge is not always a kindness."
He stepped closer to the water's edge, the sand shifting beneath his boots. "Then give me the unkindness."
Ellina's smile deepened small, knowing, and undeniably teasing. "If I did, Siegfried, you would not sleep tonight."
A beat.
"Or tomorrow."
He swallowed, heat rising to his face despite the cool air. "I'm not sleeping much anyway."
She drifted farther out, letting the lake cradle her like a slow-moving current. The water shimmered around her, catching the faint light and turning her silhouette into something ethereal.
"Then let the lake hold your questions for now," she said, voice soft but edged with playful warmth. "It remembers more than either of us… and it doesn't mind being stared at."
Siegfried exhaled sharply. "You're avoiding the truth."
"I'm delaying it," she corrected, eyes half-lidded, her tone almost musical.
"There's a difference. And you're impatient."
Her smile said she didn't mind that at all.
The forest around them held its breath.
The lake shimmered like a sheet of silver glass.
And for a moment just a moment the world narrowed to the space between them.
The lake held Ellina like a sheet of silver glass, the surface smoothing around her as she drifted farther from the shore. The last ripples from her movement shimmered outward, catching the faint light and breaking it into soft, wavering patterns across Siegfried's boots.
He stood rigidly at the edge, but his eyes kept betraying him — flicking toward her, then away, then back again.
Ellina noticed.
Of course she noticed.
"You're trying very hard not to look at me," she said, her voice warm with amusement.
Siegfried's jaw tightened. "I'm trying to give you privacy."
"Privacy," she echoed, letting the word roll lazily off her tongue. "Is that what you call standing guard with your ears burning?"
He stiffened. "My ears are not—"
"They are," she said, smiling. "It's endearing."
The breeze shifted, carrying the scent of wet stone and pine. The forest around them seemed to lean closer, branches arching overhead like a vaulted ceiling. Even the water grew quieter, as if listening.
Ellina floated on her back for a moment, eyes closed, hair spreading around her like a dark halo. "You know," she murmured, "most men would be flattered to be watched."
"I'm not most men."
"No," she said softly, opening her eyes again. "You're not."
She turned in the water, facing him fully. The lake reached her shoulders, but the faint glow of the sky lit her features the curve of her cheek, the droplets clinging to her lashes, the quiet confidence in her gaze.
"You carry yourself like someone who expects to be alone," she said. "Even when you're not."
Siegfried's breath caught. "That's not..."
"It is," she said gently. "But it doesn't have to be."
He looked away, but she drifted closer, the water whispering around her. Not close enough to touch just close enough that he could see the warmth in her eyes, the softness in her expression.
"You worry for me," she said. "More than you admit."
"It's my duty."
Ellina's smile deepened, slow and knowing. "Duty doesn't make your voice soften when you say my name."
Siegfried froze.
The forest seemed to hush.
The lake stilled.
Even the wind paused.
Ellina dipped her fingers into the water, drawing idle circles that sent faint ripples toward him. "You don't have to say anything," she murmured. "I already know."
He swallowed hard. "You shouldn't tease me like this."
"Why not?"
Her voice was a whisper now, warm and intimate.
"You're always so careful. So guarded. I like seeing what's underneath."
Siegfried stepped back, as if distance might steady him, but his eyes stayed locked on hers.
Ellina's expression softened. "Don't run from it," she said. "Not from me."
The words hit him harder than he expected.
She turned away then, giving him a moment to breathe, her silhouette gliding through the water like a quiet promise.
"Give me a few more minutes," she said over her shoulder. "Then I'll come back to shore."
Siegfried nodded, though his pulse hadn't settled.
And as Ellina drifted deeper into the lake's silver calm, he realized the truth:
He wasn't guarding her from the forest.
He was guarding himself from her.
Ellina drifted a little longer in the lake's silver calm, letting the water hold her as though it understood her better than the world on land ever could. The ripples around her slowed, softened, then stilled entirely. When she finally turned back toward the shore, her movements were unhurried, almost ceremonial.
Siegfried straightened instinctively.
As she approached, the water slid from her shoulders in thin, shimmering lines. Her expression was serene, but her eyes held that same quiet warmth, the one that had unsettled him more than any creature in the forest.
"You waited," she said softly.
"Of course."
Ellina stepped out of the lake, the last of the water trailing down her arms before falling to the sand. She gathered her veil from the stone, but didn't put it on immediately. Instead, she paused beside him, close enough that he could feel the faint chill of the lake still clinging to her skin.
"You don't have to guard me every moment," she murmured.
"I know."
"But you will anyway."
He didn't deny it.
Ellina's smile was small, but it reached her eyes. "Then I suppose I should be grateful."
She slipped the veil back over her hair, fingers moving with practiced grace. The moment the fabric settled, something in her posture shifted not colder, not distant, but composed again, as though the lake had allowed her a brief moment of unmasked truth.
Siegfried handed her the cloak she'd left on the shore. Their fingers brushed a fleeting touch, but enough to send a quiet jolt through him.
"Thank you," she said, voice low.
He nodded, unable to trust his own.
Behind them, the riders were finishing their tasks, packing supplies, tightening straps, preparing the horses. The brief peace of the lake was fading, replaced by the familiar rhythm of the road.
Ellina glanced once more at the water, then at the dark line of trees waiting beyond the clearing.
"The forest hasn't finished with us," she said.
Siegfried followed her gaze. "I know."
"Then we should meet it together."
She stepped past him, her cloak brushing lightly against his arm as she moved toward the others. Siegfried watched her go, the weight of her words settling into him like a stone dropped into deep water.
The lake behind them stilled.
The forest ahead waited.
And the company prepared to move on.