Ethan and Blackie stood at the edge of the lake, staring out over the vast, milky-white expanse.
The surface did not ripple in the wind. It did not reflect the sky. It simply existed, pale and opaque, as though the world itself had been poured into a basin and left to settle.
Blackie squinted at it for a long moment before asking, "So… how exactly are we supposed to cross that?"
For once, he made no attempt to spread his wings or test the air. Even he could feel it. The Nine-Color Lake was not water in any ordinary sense. It felt ancient, sealed and waiting.
They lingered there in silence.
This time there was no system prompt. No guiding voice offering instructions. The stillness pressed in on them, heavy and deliberate.
After a while, Ethan crouched down at the shoreline. He hesitated as his hand hovered above the surface as if he expected it to bite. Then, slowly, he extended a finger and touched the milky water.
