The silence was the first thing I noticed about the Lake of the Dead. Not the eerie mist that clung to its surface like a funeral shroud, or the strange, lifeless trees that ringed its shores with twisted fingers—but the complete and utter absence of sound.
No birds chirped. No insects buzzed. Not even the wind dared to whisper here.
I stood at the edge of the water, watching as the mist swirled and curled around my ankles like living tendrils seeking to pull me in. The artifact in my hand pulsed with a steady, silver light—growing brighter the closer I'd come to this forsaken place.
"This is it?" The Vampire King's voice was the only thing that pierced the unnatural silence, making me flinch. He stood a few paces behind me, his dark eyes narrowed at the still water before us. "This pitiful pond is what the legends speak of?"
