The Stillwater Pact

The air in the Emberwood Forest clung to us like a damp shroud. My father, Uncle Boran, my cousin Elara, and I had been hiking for over an hour, our boots sinking into the thick carpet of moss and fallen leaves. The trees here were immense, their gnarled roots twisting like arthritic fingers across the trail. I remember thinking how quiet it was; even the birds seemed to avoid this part of the woods.

Father led us without a word, his face set in that familiar, unreadable expression he always wore when he was thinking about something he didn’t want to share. We were supposed to be looking for rare ferns for his collection, but I had a feeling that wasn’t the real reason we were here. Elara and I exchanged glances, but we knew better than to question him.

After what felt like an eternity, we broke through a thicket of ferns and found ourselves on the shore of a lake. It was a perfect circle, maybe fifty yards across, and the water was a deep, unsettling green, so dark it seemed to swallow the light. There was no breeze, no ripple, just a stillness that felt unnatural. Father stopped at the edge, his shoulders relaxing as if he had found what he was looking for. He motioned for us to sit down on some dry logs near the shore.

Elara and I wandered a little closer to the water, drawn to a log that jutted out over the surface like a natural pier. It was thick and mossy, and it looked stable enough, so we sat down, dangling our feet above the water. The surface was like polished glass, reflecting the dark canopy above. I leaned over to look at my reflection, but the water was too murky to see anything.

‘Don’t get too close,’ Father called out, his voice sharp. I looked back at him, but he was already sitting on a rock, unpacking a small pouch of dried meat and nuts. Uncle Boran was busy cutting a branch with his knife, probably to use as a walking stick.

We sat there for a while, eating our snack, the silence heavy on our ears. Elara was the first to notice it – a faint bubbling sound coming from the center of the lake. We both stared, and a few bubbles broke the surface, rising and popping like tiny angry eyes. Then, just as quickly, it stopped. I looked at Father, but he was staring at the water, his jaw tight.

‘Let’s head back,’ he said suddenly, standing up. ‘We’ve been here long enough.’ He was already packing his things, motioning for us to get up. But as I stood, I felt a strange pull, like the lake was trying to hold me in place. I looked down and saw my reflection for the first time – but it wasn’t my face. It was the face of a woman, her skin pale and slick, her hair floating around her like black seaweed. Her lips were moving, forming words I couldn’t hear.

I gasped and staggered back, nearly falling off the log. Elara grabbed my arm, but she was staring at the water too. She had seen it as well. ‘What was that?’ she whispered. My father was already by our side, his face ashen. He didn’t answer but grabbed our shoulders and steered us away from the lake, his grip almost painful.

We moved quickly, not speaking, the forest suddenly feeling oppressive and alien. We had walked maybe five minutes when Uncle Boran stopped and turned. ‘Did you see that?’ he asked, his voice low. We all looked back. Through the trees, we could see the lake, but it was different. The water was churning, and a figure was emerging from its depths, rising slowly, a dark silhouette against the green water.

Father started pulling us faster, almost dragging us. ‘Don’t look back,’ he commanded. But I couldn’t help it. I glanced over my shoulder, and the figure was now standing on the shore where we had been sitting. It was tall, too tall, and its arms hung awkwardly, like they were broken. It didn’t move, just stood there, watching us.

We ran. We ran until our lungs burned, and the trees thinned out, and we found the main trail that led back to the car. We collapsed in a heap by the vehicle, panting, covered in sweat and scratches. Father finally spoke, his voice shaking. ‘I’ve heard stories about that lake. They say it’s bottomless, and something lives in it. Something that pulls people in and never lets them go.’

We drove back in silence. No one spoke about what we saw. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing that face in the water, those lips moving, and I realized what they were saying: ‘Stay.’ And in that moment, I knew the lake had made a pact with me. It would wait. And one day, I would have to return.