Something in the Lake
Last night, the school stood as a fragile fortress. Its walls bore scars of the recent attack—windows shattered, corridors blackened by fire, and blood still staining the courtyard stones. Yet for the survivors who had gathered here, it was the only safe ground they had left. Families pressed together in the classrooms, while men kept weapons close at hand.
Manuel Santos, a retired soldier, had seen wars before—but nothing like this. He sat by the main entrance with his rifle laid across his lap. The weight of it was familiar, a soldier's companion even after years of retirement. His wife, Elena, sat close to the children, including their child Lira, whispering reassurance as she wrapped them in blankets.
Manuel's eyes scanned the shadows beyond the broken gates, every rustle in the night drawing his finger near the trigger. The weight of command pressed on him again, as if he were back in uniform.
The air was unnaturally still when the first tremor rolled beneath the earth. Manuel rose to his feet instantly, barking low to the other watchmen. "Steady. Stay sharp."
Another tremor followed, stronger this time. Dust sifted from the rafters, and a few children cried out in fear. The ground seemed to groan, vibrating like something ancient was stirring beneath it. Manuel's gaze turned toward the dark silhouette of Paoay Lake, visible beyond the ruined houses.
Then, with a deep and resonant rumble, the waters began to churn. Waves slapped against the shore as if the lake itself were waking. And slowly—impossibly—stone broke the surface. A spire rose first, slick with algae and glistening under the moonlight, followed by walls carved with faded symbols. Piece by piece, a shrine emerged from the depths, water streaming off its moss-covered face until it stood like a ghost from another age.
Gasps spread through the camp. Survivors pressed against the school's windows and doorways, whispering prayers, crossing themselves, or clutching charms to their chests.
"Is it where the monsters come from?"
"No, no... It's cursed! We should leave now—"
Manuel barked, firm and steady. "Enough! Stay inside. No one goes near that thing tonight." His grip on the rifle tightened as his eyes stayed fixed on the dark silhouette. "We wait for daylight."
But fear spread regardless. Some prayed; others argued in hushed tones about fleeing the town entirely. Eliza held the children close, whispering reassurances she herself didn't believe.
And still the shrine loomed in the lake, unmovable, its reflection stretching across the ripples like a shadow that didn't belong.
The night dragged on with little sleep. Every creak of the school and every splash from the water made hearts jump. And beyond it all, the shrine waited—silent, unyielding, daring them to come closer when dawn arrived.
The Shrine
By midmorning, sunlight broke through the haze. Survivors gathered at the edge of the schoolyard, eyes fixed on the shrine now fully visible in the lake. The water around it was unnaturally still, as if the world itself refused to disturb its surface.
A narrow stone bridge, glistening with moisture, stretched from the shore to the shrine's gate. No one remembered it existing before.
A few of the braver men whispered about crossing, but Manuel silenced them with a sharp look.
"We'll scout the banks only. No one enters the water."
Cautiously, Manuel led a small group to the shoreline, the rest of the survivors straining from the school windows. The shrine's carved walls glistened under the sun, strange marks shimmering faintly across its surface—marks no one could understand.
"It wasn't there yesterday... How does something like that just appear?" One man swallowed hard.
"Maybe it brought the monsters with it," muttered another.
Fear rippled through the watchers. Manuel said nothing, his soldier's instincts alert. He stepped onto the bridge, boots crunching against gravel. The stones were slick but unnervingly solid, as if freshly laid.
The lake churned. Bubbles rose near the shrine's base. Without warning, dark, scaled shapes burst from the water.
"Monsters!" one man cried.
Fish-head creatures with glistening fins and jagged teeth surged onto the bridge, shrieking. Manuel fired his rifle, the cracks echoing across the lake, but more slithered up to replace the fallen. Survivors screamed, scrambling back from the shoreline.
That same morning, Ara and Marko moved through the battered streets toward her family home. The gates sagged, the roof cracked, and inside, silence greeted them.
Ara searched every corner—kitchen, living room, her old bedroom—calling softly, "Mama? Papa?" But only dust and broken glass answered.
"They're not here..." Her voice cracked, eyes burning with worry.
Marko laid a hand on her shoulder. "They could've gone somewhere safe. Don't lose hope yet."
Ara wiped her face and nodded, but her gaze drifted to the lake. The shrine's outline was stark and alien against the familiar shore.
"Marko..." she whispered. "That wasn't there before."
Drawn by dread and urgency, they hurried to the lakeside. Screams and gunfire echoed ahead. Survivors huddled along the banks, shouting in panic. On the bridge, Manuel fought desperately, firing at the waterborne creatures lunging toward him.
Ara's breath caught. "Papa!"
She sprinted forward just as Manuel turned, eyes widening at the sight of her alive. Relief flickered across his face—but the monsters pressed closer, slamming against the stone bridge.
Marko tightened his grip on his spear, eyes fixed on the shrine. It loomed, silent and waiting, even as chaos erupted at its threshold.
Clash at the Shrine
Manuel spun, rifle steady, firing at the water monsters surging onto the bridge. Their jagged claws scraped against stone, teeth glinting in the morning sun.
Marko leapt forward, spear ignited in a flicker of fire. Each strike sent a shimmering arc through the air, slicing through a creature's scales. Ara's arrows, tipped with frost, hissed as they embedded themselves in the beasts, slowing their movements.
The survivors at the shore screamed, some ducking behind rocks, others frozen with fear. Manuel barked orders, his soldier instincts sharp.
"Keep back! Don't come onto the bridge!"
Even as they fought, the shrine at the lake's center seemed to respond. Faint glows traced the carvings along its walls, pulsing in rhythm with Marko's heartbeat. A low hum rose from the water, like the lake itself was awakening, resonating with the energy of the Prime Flame that Marko carried.
"Marko... What's happening?" Ara shouted over the shrieks and crashing waves.
"It's... the shrine!" It knows I'm here!" He shouted back, eyes narrowing as he drove his spear through another monster. "It's connected to the Gatekeepers!"
Manuel ducked as a scaled claw slammed against the bridge, splintering the stone. He gritted his teeth, firing rapidly, each shot striking true but never enough to stop the swarm.
A particularly large creature surged upward, thrashing violently, its eyes glowing the same pale blue as the shrine's faint markings. Marko braced himself, striking with fire as Ara's frost arrows froze its limbs. With a final, thunderous crack, the creature collapsed into the water with a splash, retreating beneath the lake's surface.
For a moment, silence fell—broken only by the lapping of water against the bridge. The last of the lake creatures slithered back into the depths, leaving ripples across the surface. The shrine loomed, its dark stones gleaming with fresh water, eerily still yet alive with an unspoken presence. A few of Manuel's comrades steadied themselves, weapons still raised, their breaths ragged from fending off the creatures that had surged from the water.
Manuel lowered his rifle, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His eyes never left the lake. "That... that wasn't natural," he muttered, voice gravelly with unease. "This isn't just some relic pulled out of the water."
Reunion at the Lake
Ara's gaze lingered on him, her heart caught between fear of the shrine and the overwhelming pull of familiarity. The years apart dissolved in an instant.
She couldn't hold back. "Papa!"
Manuel froze, shoulders stiffening. Slowly, he turned—and the world seemed to stop. His eyes widened as he took in her face, her stance, and the undeniable truth that she was alive.
"Ara..." His voice cracked, breaking past the stoicism of a soldier. He dropped his rifle, arms opening as though afraid she'd vanish if he blinked. "Ara, you're safe!"
She ran into his arms, colliding with the embrace she thought she'd never feel again. His weathered hands clutched her shoulders, then her back, pulling her close as if trying to shield her from the horrors that had brought them here.
"I thought I'd lost you," Manuel whispered hoarsely. "I thought the monsters had taken you from me." His words spilled out in gasps, each one carved with pain.
Tears welled in Ara's eyes, spilling freely as she buried her face against him. "I thought the same... But I made it. I survived."
"Where is Mama? Lira? Are they safe?" Ara cried.
Manuel leaned back slightly and responded, "Yes, they are at the school together with the other survivors." Then he cupped her face in his rough hands, eyes searching her features as though memorizing them anew. That was when his gaze caught the faint glow of her bow, still humming with the last echoes of magic. His eyes widened.
"Ara... what... what is this?" His voice was almost a whisper. Then his gaze shifted past her to Marko—taller now, spear in hand, the faint aura around him pulsing with quiet strength. His eyes narrowed. "Wait. I know you... You're the boy from Solsona. Marko, wasn't it?"
Marko gave a short nod, his expression calm but heavy. "Yes, sir. A lot has changed since then."
"Changed?" Manuel's voice broke between disbelief and awe as his gaze darted between them. "My little girl and the boy I once knew are now so different from what I remember... You fight like no soldier I've ever seen. This power—where did it come from? What are you?"
Ara tightened her grip on her father's hand, meeting his gaze with a steadiness he had never seen in her before. "We don't fully understand it either. But we can fight now, Papa. We must fight, or none of us will survive.
Manuel swallowed hard, overwhelmed. He had carried a rifle for years, seen comrades fall to teeth and shadow, yet here stood his daughter—his Ara—glowing with a power that made the monsters flinch. Pride and fear warred inside him, leaving his chest aching.
Into the shrine
Marko's voice cut through the silence, low but resolute. His eyes had already turned toward the shrine, its massive stone form waiting across the bridge. "We'll explain more later. Currently, that place—" he nodded at the looming structure—"it's not here by chance. If there are answers, or more threats, they're inside."
Ara's tears hadn't fully dried, but her grip on her father's hand steadied. "Then we face it together."
Manuel hesitated, torn between the instinct to shield his daughter and the realization that she no longer needed shielding. He exhaled slowly, the weight of years pressing against his chest, and finally nodded. "Alright... I'll lead. Stay close to me."
They walk toward the entrance, boots echoing softly against the stone slab. The shrine's reflection rippled in the black water, as though the lake itself stirred with unease. Each step forward made the air feel heavier, thick with unseen pressure, as if the whole lake was holding its breath.
Behind him, Marko paused, lowering to one knee. His hand pressed over the amulet at his chest, and a faint pulse of light shimmered through his fingers. The glow was steady, almost alive. "This shrine..." His voice was quiet, reverent. "It's connected to me—to the Gatekeepers. We have to move carefully. But if we want answers... they're waiting in there."
Manuel shot him a sidelong glance, his expression torn between suspicion and reluctant trust. Still, he gave a curt nod. "Then we hold the bridge together. No one steps ahead without caution."
Following them, Manuel's men steadied their weapons, eyes wide with unease. Some whispered prayers under their breath; others just stared, grateful that—for now—the lake's horrors had retreated.
The shrine loomed taller with every step, its ancient carvings glimmering faintly under the sunlight. I watched them in silence, waiting.
And for the first time, Marko truly felt the weight of the legacy he had only begun to inherit pressing down on him.