Dark Whisperer

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the town. Ada leaned her broom against the rough stone wall of a neighbouring home, dusting her hands on her legs with a satisfied smile. She and Marin had spent the afternoon contributing to the needs of the town. In a place where every task was shared and every home felt like an extension of one’s own, the boundaries of family and neighbour blurred. Helping in another's home, sweeping their floors and cleaning their hearth, was simply a part of life in Halrest.

"Finally," Ada said, her voice light with the relief of finishing the day’s work.

Across from her, Marin was bent over a pile of neatly folded clothes, his fingers carefully adjusting the corners of each fabric. He straightened up, stretching his arms behind his head with a playful grin. "And here I thought you'd never finish," he teased, tossing a small piece of cloth her way.

Ada caught it with ease, rolling her eyes as she threw it back. "Maybe if you'd been sweeping instead of folding, we'd have finished even sooner," she retorted, though the teasing lilt in her voice was unmistakable.

Marin’s eyes sparkled with a familiar mischief. "What, and miss watching you flail around with that broom like you were chasing away ghosts?"

Ada raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "I’d hardly call it flailing, and at least I can say I’m better with a broom than you are with a mop. Remember last week?"

Marin laughed, the sound rich and warm, filling the quiet space. "Alright, alright, fair point. But I’m just trying to keep Old Darron’s house from collapsing under the weight of its dust, not conduct a battle."

Ada shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "If anyone’s conducting a battle, it’s you, Marin. With that relentless obsession over straightening every seam, you’re making the poor clothes surrender."

He gave a mock salute, still grinning. "Just trying to set a good example for the rest of the town. You know, inspire a new age of meticulously folded laundry."

They both laughed, the kind of easy, shared laughter that spoke of afternoons spent side by side, turning the mundane into something bright. Ada couldn’t help but glance around Old Darron’s modest home, the faint scent of herbs hanging in the air, and feel a small pang of contentment. Moments like these, even in the simplest of tasks, made the world feel whole.

They had been working together all day, helping with the endless tasks that came with town life. But unlike most of the adults, who still moved purposefully into the evening, Ada and Marin had finished their chores early, leaving them with an afternoon of free time.

Marin crossed the small space between them in two quick steps, nudging her playfully with his shoulder. They shared a quick, knowing smile before turning their attention to tidying up the last of Old Darron’s home. He was out, likely visiting the market or one of his old friends, leaving the place quiet and empty.

Ada quickly swept the remaining dust into the corner while Marin gathered up the folded clothes, setting them neatly on a small wooden chair. They moved with a practiced ease, each knowing exactly what needed to be done. She dusted herself off, checked the floor for the last time and moved towards the exit leaving the broom standing against the wall. Marin went to check that the windows were latched, and together they pulled the door closed.

They stepped outside, the air cooler now, a faint breeze brushing against their faces. Marin turned to Ada, a small grin playing on his lips.

"So, what now?" His tone was casual, but the flicker of excitement in his eyes betrayed him. This was their moment, the part of the day they both secretly looked forward to.

Ada pretended to think, tapping her chin with exaggerated deliberation. "Well, we could climb to the top of the watchtower, see who can spot the farthest field." She glanced sideways at him, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Or..."

Marin raised an eyebrow, catching the spark in her eyes. "Or...?" he echoed, already knowing what she was about to say.

"Or we could head to the lake," she suggested with a wink, taking a step back. "You know, our spot."

Marin groaned in mock defeat. "I should have known you'd pick the lake." He crossed his arms, though the smile that tugged at his lips gave him away. "You just don’t want to lose to me at tower climbing."

Ada burst into laughter, shaking her head. "Please, you'd be the one panting halfway up the hill." She darted past him, light on her feet, her laughter trailing in the air. Marin followed, quickening his pace to catch up.

"Is that a challenge?" Marin called after her, his tone playful. He caught up and jogged alongside her, reaching out to gently tug at her braid as they passed between houses and slipped beyond the town paths.

Ada swatted his hand away, giggling as she did. "I’d never challenge you. It wouldn’t be fair—you’d lose every time!"

"One of these days, Ada, I’ll surprise you. I’ll win a race, and you’ll never let it go."

Ada smirked, "When that day comes, I’ll make sure everyone in the town knows. ‘Marin finally beat Ada!’" She raised her arms dramatically, as if announcing it to the heavens.

Marin couldn’t help but smile, his gaze lingering on her for just a moment longer than usual. "You’d make it sound like a miracle, wouldn’t you?" he said, his voice softening. "But I wouldn’t mind. As long as I get to see you like this... carefree, happy."

The words came out almost absent-mindedly, but they hung in the air between them, making Ada’s cheeks flush. She glanced sideways at him, catching his eye. Marin’s expression was warm, his usual teasing replaced with something deeper.

Ada felt her heart flutter but quickly masked it with a playful grin. "Well, you’ll have to train hard for that day to come," she said, nudging his arm. "I won’t go easy on you just because you’ve got that charming smile."

They both laughed, but Marin’s gaze lingered on her, taking in the way the late afternoon sun caught the auburn undertones in her hair, making it look like molten copper. "You know, Ada," he said after a pause, his tone more earnest, "you’re beautiful when you’re like this. Just... being yourself."

Ada felt her cheeks grow warmer, and she rolled her eyes to hide her smile. "I think you’ve been spending too much time with your father’s love poems," she teased, but her voice was soft, almost tender.

Their pace slowed as they reached the edge of the town, where the towering trees gave way to the familiar sight of the lake. The afternoon light reflected off the water, casting a mirror-like sheen across the partially frozen surface. Tall reeds swayed gently in the breeze, the sound of their rustling like a whisper only the lake knew.

The path they took was familiar, their feet moving without thought as they headed toward the shimmering lake just beyond the town. It was their place—untouched by the daily hum of town life, a secret known only to the two of them. Hidden away from the well-worn paths, the spot was secluded by a small cluster of trees and thick, overgrown bushes, forming a natural barrier that kept curious eyes at bay. A winding footpath led through the underbrush, barely noticeable to anyone who didn’t already know it was there.

As they neared the water’s edge, Marin’s hand brushed against Ada’s, a simple, almost accidental touch that sent a jolt through them. He hesitated, then slowly, tentatively, laced his fingers with hers. Ada didn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezed his hand, a small, unspoken reassurance.

"Do you think anyone will find us here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the lake itself might hear their secrets.

"Not a chance," Marin said, giving her hand a gentle tug, pulling her a step closer. "It’s just us, Ada. Always has been."

She met his gaze, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them, standing by the lake that had been the backdrop of their lives. The faint murmur of the town in the distance, the rustling reeds, the soft ripple of the water—they all felt like part of a song only they could hear.

Their secret spot held signs of the countless hours they'd spent there, moments etched into the landscape like memories carved in stone. Marin’s gaze wandered over the wooden swing hanging from a low branch, its rope frayed but still strong enough to hold their weight. “Remember when we first tied that swing up?” he asked, his voice warm with nostalgia. “You were so sure it wouldn’t last a day.”

Ada laughed softly, leaning against him as they walked. “And you were so determined to prove me wrong. You must have knotted those ropes at least a dozen times.”

They passed by the remains of a makeshift treehouse, barely more than a platform now. Marin’s smile grew, a little wistful. “Our fortress,” he said, tilting his head towards it. “It felt like we could see the whole world from up there.”

“And it was where you first told me you wanted to learn how to skip rocks,” Ada said, her eyes twinkling. She pointed to the pile of smooth stones near the lake’s edge. “We must have thrown hundreds.”

“I still say I won that last round,” Marin teased, brushing a few stray leaves from a patch of grass before dropping down beside the water. He leaned back on his elbows, letting out a contented sigh as he took in the view. Ada settled next to him, her shoulder brushing his.

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the world slipping away as they watched the lake stretch out before them, its surface glistening in the late afternoon light. The gentle rustling of the reeds and the rhythmic lapping of the water created a soothing melody, wrapping them in a sense of peace that felt endless.

"You know," Marin began, his voice softer now, "I think I could stay here forever."

Ada turned her head to look at him, her expression softening as she saw the way his eyes reflected the sky, a deep, endless blue. “You’d get bored,” she teased, nudging him gently with her shoulder.

“Not with you around,” Marin replied, his tone earnest, almost reverent.

She didn’t pull away, didn’t turn to hide the blush she felt creeping up her cheeks. Instead, she let herself stay there, close enough to hear the soft, steady rhythm of Marin’s breathing.

“You always know what to say,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m just being honest,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “This... being here with you, it’s enough. More than enough.”

She reached out, her hand hesitating for a moment before she let it rest over his, their fingers intertwining naturally. Marin’s breath hitched, just slightly, and he turned his palm up, gently squeezing her hand as if to reassure her, to say he felt the same.

The world around them seemed to blur, leaving only the warmth of Marin’s hand in hers, the sound of their breathing, and the endless expanse of the lake stretching out before them. For a moment, it felt as though there was nothing beyond this—just them, just this quiet, perfect moment suspended between the past and the future, full of unspoken promises.

Her cheeks warmed, and she quickly looked away, fixing her gaze on the distant horizon. "You’re terrible, Marin," she said, her tone playful but her heart skipping a beat. "One day, you’ll have to be serious."

Marin grinned, reaching over to gently correct a stray strand of her hair. "One day, maybe. But not today."

Ada nodded with a soft smile, her gaze drifting back to the lake. "You’re right, though. It’s peaceful here." She glanced at Marin, her voice thoughtful. "It feels... safe. Like nothing bad could ever happen."

Marin nodded, his own thoughts seeming to drift as they both looked out at the calm water. "Yeah. Like time just... stops."

Ada rested her chin on her knees, watching the sun slowly dip lower in the sky. "We should enjoy it while it lasts."

Marin’s voice was quieter now, but the smile hadn’t left his face. "We always do."

They settled on the edge of the lake, the cool earth beneath them still damp from the morning frost. Ada leaned back on her palms, stretching her legs out in front of her, while Marin sat cross-legged beside her, absently fiddling with a stray blade of grass. The reflection of the sinking sun shimmered across the lake, casting a soft glow over their faces. For a while, neither of them spoke, content to simply enjoy the peace of their hidden sanctuary.

But silence never lasted long between them.

“You know,” Marin began, his tone casual, though a hint of something deeper lingered beneath his words, “sometimes I feel like I’m not doing enough. For the town, I mean.”

Ada, still leaning back, tilted her head toward him with a quirked brow. “Not enough? Really?”

“Yeah.” Marin’s voice softened, and he plucked at the grass in his hands. “Everyone counts on me. They always say I’m doing great, but I don’t know… It feels like I could be doing more.”

Ada snorted softly, sitting up straight and turning to face him fully. “Marin, the whole town practically worships you. You’re like… the golden boy.” Her teasing tone was laced with affection, but there was a seriousness in her eyes as she studied him. “You know that, right?”

Marin shrugged, still not looking at her. “But what does that even mean? Just because I’m good at chopping wood or carrying baskets doesn’t mean I’m doing enough. People need more than that.”

Ada sighed, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation. “Of course, you’d think like that. You do so much already, but you’re always looking for more to take on. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been brainwashed by the town elders.” She smiled, nudging his shoulder playfully. “But seriously, you need to give yourself more credit. You’re helping in every way you can, just like the rest of us.”

He didn’t smile back right away, his expression thoughtful, distant. “Maybe,” he said softly. “But sometimes it feels like I’m stuck, like I’m just… doing what everyone expects of me. What if there’s more I could do, something bigger?”

Ada’s playful smirk faltered for a moment as she saw the uncertainty in his eyes. She knew that feeling all too well, the weight of expectations pressing down like stones in your pockets, dragging you deeper into the water. She shifted closer, her shoulder brushing against his.

“Hey,” she said, her voice softer now. “You’re not stuck. And you don’t have to do everything all at once, you know? You’re already doing more than enough, Marin. Trust me.” Her brown eyes softened as she looked at him, the warmth in her gaze undeniable.

He finally met her eyes, and for a moment, the tension in his face seemed to ease. “You think so?”

“I know so.” She grinned, leaning in a little closer, her tone light again. “Besides, if you were doing any more, the rest of us would look lazy by comparison. How would that be fair?”

Marin chuckled, the sound breaking through the lingering doubt in his expression. “I guess I wouldn’t want that.”

“Exactly,” Ada said, leaning back again with a triumphant smile. “So stop worrying. You’re doing fine. Better than fine, actually. You’re perfect, Marin.”

He shook his head with a smile, though his cheeks reddened slightly at her words. "I’m not perfect, Ada."

“You are to them,” she replied, glancing back toward the town in the distance. “And, maybe... to me too.”

The words hung between them for a moment, more weight in them than either of them wanted to acknowledge out loud. Marin’s smile softened, his hand brushing lightly against hers as they both turned their gazes back toward the lake.

“Thanks,” Marin murmured after a pause, his voice quieter now. “For always knowing what to say.”

Ada shrugged, though the warmth of his words made her heart skip. “Someone has to keep you from spiralling into an existential crisis, right? And clearly, that job falls to me.”

“Clearly,” he echoed, the hint of a smile still tugging at his lips.

For a moment, it felt as though all their worries, all the weight of the town and their expectations, drifted away with the wind. Here, by the lake, in the place they had claimed as their own, it was just the two of them—young, unburdened, and together.

The quiet between them settled comfortably, as it always did, and after a few moments, Ada reached into the small satchel she always carried. Her fingers, quick and practiced, gently pulled the drawstring loose, and she carefully extracted her sketchpad. Placing it on her lap, she rummaged further, producing a sealed, brass-capped inkpot and a slender, well-worn quill.

She uncapped the inkpot, the faint scent of ink mixing with the crisp air. Ada's dipped the quill into the dark, inky pool, letting the excess drip back into the pot before steadying her hand over the page. For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes fixed on the blank space, as if seeing something there that no one else could. Then, with a soft, purposeful motion, she began to draw.

Marin chuckled softly at the familiar sight, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “Of course,” he said with a teasing lilt, leaning back on his hands. “Some things never change, huh?”

Ada’s eyes flicked up at him briefly, amused but unfazed, before they returned to the page in front of her. “What?” she replied, feigning innocence, her quill already moving in smooth strokes. “You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

“No, no,” Marin said with a grin, shaking his head. “I’d never say that. It’s just... well, you and drawing.” He gestured toward the pages with a playful wave. “You’ve always got your head in there. Like it’s an extension of your arm or something.”

Ada couldn’t help but smirk as she continued, her quill gliding effortlessly across the page. “Well, maybe it is.”

Marin laughed, the sound easy and familiar. “I swear, you’re going to run out of pages one day with how much you draw.”

“Maybe,” Ada said, her voice absent, her focus drifting entirely into her sketch. “But that’s what new notebooks are for.”

He leaned closer, watching the way her hand moved—swift and assured, each stroke of ink on paper coming together effortlessly. There was something about the way Ada drew that always amazed him, though he rarely said it out loud. What seemed like a simple pastime to her felt, at times, like she was capturing something bigger, something real. Even her doodles, when he glanced at them, looked more like the beginnings of art that might be hung from a stall.

“You know, I think I could recognize your drawings anywhere,” Marin said after a pause, his voice a little softer. “They’ve always been so... you. I mean, they were great even when we were little, but now...”

Ada looked up at him with a raised brow, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “Is that your way of saying I’ve improved?”

Marin smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, something like that.”

She rolled her eyes, though the warmth of his words lingered in the way her fingers moved. But as she continued her sketch, Marin’s gaze sharpened. Something caught his eye—small, intricate markings forming along the edges of the page. His brow furrowed slightly, leaning in closer.

“Hey... what’s that?”

“Hm?” Ada didn’t look up from her work.

Marin pointed, curiosity sparking in his voice. “Those... those little symbols. What are those?”

Ada paused for a moment, glancing down at the margin of her page. Along the edge, where she had absentmindedly begun to draw, were tiny shapes—delicate, precise. She blinked at them, almost as if noticing them for the first time herself. “Oh, those. I guess I’ve been adding them lately.”

“Are those.. runes?” Marin’s head tilted, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t remember you drawing those before.”

“I didn’t used to,” Ada admitted, her tone casual but thoughtful. “I don’t know, they just started showing up in my sketches recently. Not sure why.”

Marin watched her for a moment, a mixture of curiosity and admiration in his gaze. “They’re... different. Interesting. It’s like they fit, somehow.”

Ada gave a small shrug, brushing it off as though it were nothing. “They’re just doodles. Probably just a phase.”

“Maybe,” Marin mused, though something about the symbols held his attention longer than usual. There was a strange sense of familiarity to them, like they held some meaning just out of reach. “But even your ‘just doodles’ are better than anything I could come up with.”

Ada smirked, shaking her head at his flattery, and returned to her sketch. “Well, it’s a good thing you don’t need to draw then, isn’t it? We all have our roles, after all.”

As the conversation flowed between them, the tip of Ada’s quill continued to move effortlessly across the page, crafting not just the scene before them, but something deeper. The symbols, once unremarkable to her, now grew in complexity—subtle swirls and geometric shapes weaving through the margins, as though the very act of drawing was unlocking something unknown, something ancient. But to her, they were just idle strokes. Marin, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it, something just beyond what either of them fully understood.

He laughed lightly, brushing it off for now, leaning back into the grass. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always had a way of seeing the world differently than the rest of us.”

Ada smiled faintly at that, a hint of pride colouring her expression, but she didn’t respond. Her focus remained on the page, though her mind wandered back to the town, the weight of her mother’s expectations pressing in at the edges of her thoughts. She shook them off, at least for now, and let herself sink into the comfort of the moment. Here, with Marin, by the lake—this was her escape.

The quill moved slower now, the sketch nearly complete, but the symbols—those curious little runes—continued to form around the edges, almost without her noticing.

She shifted her weight, stretching her fingers and letting out a small breath. The stillness of the lake and the quiet between them now felt heavier, as though the weight of the town's concerns was beginning to seep into their peaceful hideaway.

Marin shifted beside her, his gaze distant as he stared out over the water. His usual carefree expression was tinged with something else now—something more serious. After a moment, he broke the silence, his voice lower, almost hesitant.

“Ada… about today. About what Daithi said—or didn’t say.” He paused, turning to face her. “What do you make of it?”

Ada’s brow furrowed slightly, the question pulling her out of her own thoughts. She glanced over at him, unsure where he was going with this. “What do you mean?”

“You heard it too,” Marin continued, running a hand through his hair. “How Daithi glossed over the food shortages, like it wasn’t as bad as it is. And then Leora…” He trailed off, his eyes searching Ada’s. “She told the truth - let it slip how dire things really are, but afterward, she looked… scared. Like she regretted it.”

Ada shifted, feeling a flicker of discomfort. She had noticed it too, but it hadn’t quite sunk in until now. She had been so wrapped up in her own worries, her own sense of not belonging, that the weight of the town’s troubles had felt distant. But now that Marin was saying it out loud, it became harder to ignore.

“I don’t know,” Ada said slowly, her fingers fiddling with the corner of her notebook. “I guess I thought I was the only one really worried about it. Like maybe I was overthinking things.”

Marin shook his head. “No. You’re not the only one. I mean, Daithi’s been keeping it quiet for a reason, right? But if Leora’s scared… maybe it’s worse than we think.”

Ada bit her lip, her mind spinning. “Do you think they’re hiding something?”

Marin hesitated, his expression conflicted. “I don’t know. Maybe Daithi thinks he’s protecting everyone, keeping them calm. But it feels wrong, Ada. Like we’re being left out.”

She stared at him for a long moment, the knot of unease in her chest tightening. If Marin, of all people, was worried—calm, steady Marin—then maybe she wasn’t overreacting. Maybe there really was more going on than they realized.

A thought bubbled up in her mind, one she almost dismissed before it took hold. Slowly, she looked at Marin, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What if we… listened in?”

Marin blinked at her, his expression going from confusion to shock in an instant. “What?”

“You heard me,” Ada said, her voice gaining a little more confidence. “What if we listened in on the next meeting? See what they’re not telling us.”

Marin sat up straighter, his face a mix of disbelief and alarm. “Ada, no. We can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Ada’s eyes flashed with a stubborn gleam, her lips curling into a challenging smile. “We’re not doing anything wrong. We’d just be… gathering information.”

“Ada, come on,” Marin protested, shaking his head. “That’s… that’s sneaky. Besides, it’s not our place. The council meeting—it’s important. Only the best and brightest are allowed to attend. Daithi and the others, they’ve earned their spots, and they’re the ones trusted to make decisions. Children, like us, we’re not even allowed near it.”

“Exactly.” Ada leaned forward, her eyes locking onto his. “And don’t you think that’s a problem? If things are really as bad as Leora says, shouldn’t we know? Maybe we can help.”

“Help how?” Marin asked, his voice exasperated but tinged with worry. “We’re just… what could we possibly do?”

“I don’t know,” Ada admitted, her voice softening, but her resolve didn’t waver. “But we can’t just sit around doing nothing. If Daithi’s not telling everyone the full truth, maybe he doesn’t have a plan. Maybe they’re out of options. And if that’s the case…” She took a breath, her expression determined. “Then maybe we can figure something out.”

Marin opened his mouth to argue, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. He looked at her, and in that moment, he saw something that made his protests falter. It wasn’t just Ada’s stubbornness, though that was part of it—it was her need to do something, to be more than what she thought everyone expected of her. Her desire to prove herself, not just to the town, but to herself.

“Ada…” His voice softened, a mixture of exasperation and admiration in his tone. “You know we’ll get in trouble if we’re caught, right?”

She grinned, a mischievous spark lighting up her eyes. “That’s why we won’t get caught.”

He sighed, leaning back against the rock and looking up at the sky. “You always know how to rope me into your plans, don’t you?”

“Yep,” she said, unfazed, dipping her quill back into the ink. “Because you know I’m right.”

Marin couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Ada shot back, her grin widening.

He chuckled again, the tension between them easing just a bit, though the weight of the situation still lingered. He watched as she returned to her drawing, her fingers steady and sure. Despite his initial protests, there was a part of him that admired her fearlessness—the way she refused to just accept things as they were. It was one of the many reasons he found himself drawn to her, even when she drove him crazy with her impulsive ideas.

“All right,” Marin said after a long pause, his voice resigned but not entirely without hope. “If we’re going to do this, we need to be careful. Really careful.” “If my mother spots me... I’m dead”

Ada’s smile softened, her brown eyes warm as she looked up at him. “I knew you’d come around.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Marin muttered, rolling his eyes but smiling despite himself. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Ada tilted her head, her expression turning thoughtful. “You always play it safe, Marin. But sometimes… don’t you want more than just safety?”

Marin hesitated, his gaze drifting to the horizon where the lake shimmered, reflecting the dying light of the day. “I don’t know. I guess I just like knowing what to expect.” He glanced back at her, a touch of seriousness in his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want things to be better, Ada. For everyone.”

She nodded, understanding. “I get it. That’s why I think we need to be part of whatever happens next. Things are changing, and we can’t just stand by and watch.”

Marin sighed, a mix of admiration and frustration. “You always make it sound so easy. Like we can just… change things because we want to.”

“Maybe it is that simple,” Ada replied, her voice steady. “Maybe it starts with just deciding to try.”

He smiled, shaking his head as if conceding defeat. “You really are impossible.”

“And yet, here you are, agreeing to go along with it,” she teased, her grin widening.

Marin laughed, a warm, genuine sound. “Yeah, I guess I am. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We need to keep this quiet, careful.”

Ada’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “I know. We’ll be smart about it.”

“Good,” Marin said, still holding her gaze. “Because I don’t want you getting into trouble.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, more softly, “Or hurt.”

She smiled at that, touched by his concern. “I’ll be fine, Marin. I’ve got you, don’t I?”

He chuckled, the tension easing. “Yeah, I suppose you do.”

As their laughter faded, the light around them began to shift, shadows growing longer as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Ada glanced toward the horizon, realizing with a start that time had slipped away from them. “We should head back,” she said reluctantly, her heart sinking at the thought of leaving their secret haven.

Marin nodded, pushing himself up from the ground. “Yeah, I guess we should. We can’t have the town thinking we’ve run off for good.” He stretched, a playful smirk crossing his face. “And you know they’ll wonder where their favourite golden boy has disappeared to.”

Ada smiled, reaching for her satchel. She carefully tucked her quill back into its holder, sealed the inkpot, and slid it into a small, cushioned pocket to keep it secure. Her fingers lingered on the edges of her notebook for a moment before she closed it, wrapping the leather strap around to keep it shut. Satisfied, she slipped the notebook into the bag.

She rose to join Marin, slinging the satchel over her shoulder. “As if they’d notice if I were gone. I’m just the girl who doodles in the corner.”

He rolled his eyes, the teasing glint still present. “Doodling with mysterious runes. Who knows what kind of trouble you could summon?”

“Ha! I’d summon you to help me escape chores,” she retorted, her tone lightening as they made their way to the lake’s edge.

Marin paused, taking in the serene sight before him. “You know the ritual, right? It’s time.”

He stepped forward, standing still for a moment, eyes closed, the chill of the air mingling with the warmth of the fading sun. Ada watched him, her heart swelling at the sight—he looked so at peace, like he belonged here, just as he always had.

After a moment, Marin opened his eyes, glancing over his shoulder at her. “You can’t skip it today, Ada. You know how your mother gets.”

Ada feigned reluctance, crossing her arms. “But I don’t want to—”

“Don’t you dare say no,” he interrupted, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “What will she say if you come home and say you skipped the lake ritual? ‘Ada, how could you forget such an important part of our lives?’”

She groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “Fine! I’ll do it! But only because I don’t want to hear about it later.”

Marin chuckled, stepping aside as Ada took her place by the lake. The water shimmered, reflecting the last hues of sunlight, and Ada took a deep breath, recalling the words her mother had taught her. She felt the weight of tradition settle over her like a familiar cloak, a bond that tied her to the town, even when it felt heavy.

“Uh, a little louder,” Marin prompted with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying this moment.

With a shared glance, they began to chant in perfect unison, their voices weaving together like the gentle currents of the lake, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Their hands, clasped together, moved in synchrony, palms outstretched towards the water as if offering something unseen. Every motion was precise, as if rehearsed a thousand times, yet it carried a natural grace that came from years of familiarity.

“Spirits of the deep, we give thanks to thee,

For the bounty of the waters, for the life you see.

With hearts open wide, we honour your grace,

In the ripples of time, we find our place.”

As they chanted, Marin dipped his fingers into the lake, flicking droplets into the air, the water catching the last rays of sunlight like scattered diamonds. Without hesitation, Ada mirrored the action, the droplets forming a gentle arc that shimmered briefly before falling back into the lake. They repeated the motion, once for each line of their chant, creating a silent rhythm of offering and return, like an ancient dance that had been passed down through generations.

The words flowed easily, light on the surface yet echoing with a depth that resonated within them, a connection to the gods of the lake and the lore that surrounded their town. Their voices softened, reverent, as they continued, repeating the next verse with a slow, deliberate cadence, every syllable pronounced with care:

“Guardians below, keep our souls from strife,

In the stillness of the depths, breathe to us life.

In whispers we listen, in silence we hear,

The wisdom of waters, both distant and near.”

Marin’s eyes flicked to Ada’s, his expression calm but focused, as if the ritual was a tether grounding them to something beyond the present. Ada could feel the chill of the water seeping into her fingertips, a sensation that was both familiar and strange, like a memory half-forgotten. She let the soft sounds of the lake wash over her, the gentle lapping against the shore syncing with their murmured words, their movements so perfectly matched that it was as though they shared a single heartbeat.

Marin peered at her for a moment, a slight smile playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with affection. “Oh, go away!” Ada replied, blushing slightly when she saw him watching her, unable to suppress her own smile. But they both knew this was part of the ritual’s charm—each step, each gesture was as comforting as it was sacred.

They closed their eyes and whispered the spiritual words everyone knew, passed down through generations, their voices soft and intimate, carrying the weight of centuries:

“From river’s source to ocean’s end,

From storm’s great surge to the gentle bend,

We ask for strength, we ask for peace,

To hold what is ours, to grant release.”

As the words left her lips, she felt a strange flicker of discomfort lingering in the back of her mind, like a shadow passing across her thoughts. The lake's surface seemed to still, the ripples quieting as if the water itself was listening, heeding the call of the ancient prayer.

They dipped their fingers into the water once more, tracing small circles that broke the surface tension, each motion executed flawlessly. The water rippled outward, gentle waves flowing in a pattern that echoed their movements, and with one final line, they brought the chant to a close:

“Spirits of the deep, guide us and keep,

In the dark of the night, in the dreams that we sleep.”

Their voices fell silent, and for a moment, there was nothing but the soft murmur of the lake, as if it was absorbing their words, taking them into the depths. When they finished, Marin broke into applause, his laughter ringing out, light and full of warmth. “See? That wasn’t so hard!”

Ada smiled, but a part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that lingered, a quiet unease that made her glance back at the lake, where the sun was now a mere sliver on the horizon, casting long, dark shadows across the water. The air felt heavier, as if the lake had whispered something back, something only she could hear, but when she turned to Marin, his bright grin chased away the doubt, if only for a moment.

She shot him a mock glare. “You’re such a dork.”

“Only for you,” he replied, his grin widening. “Now, the final step: Purify our souls.”

“Mmhm,” she groaned.

“Washing your face cleanses the soul,” he said, his tone playful yet hinting at the gravity of the words.

“Ugh, do we have to? It’s freezing!” she protested, eyeing the glistening water. The surface rippled gently, but something about it—the way the sun danced across it—seemed off, just a little darker than she remembered.

“Come on, it’s part of the ritual,” Marin urged, stepping toward the water. “You’ll feel better.”

Reluctantly, she approached, kneeling beside him. Ada cupped her hands, scooping some of the icy liquid and splashing it onto her face, feeling the cold bite as it awakened her senses. A shiver rippled through her body.

“Gah!” she exclaimed, leaning back and wiping the droplets from her eyes. When she glanced over at Marin, she couldn’t help but marvel at how unfazed he seemed, the icy water barely affecting him.

“See? Not so bad,” he said, flashing a grin, his cheeks glistening with droplets.

“Easy for you to say,” she shot back, her tone softening, the warmth of years of shared moments threading through her voice.

She smirked and nudged him playfully with her elbow. “Maybe you’re a creature from the lake, Marin. You don’t even feel the cold.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin turning playful. “Maybe I am. It’s not so bad down there, you know. Quite refreshing.”

Ada laughed, the sound echoing across the water. “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide to take a swim.”

“We’re all set now,” Marin declared, standing up and grinning down at her. “Another day in the town, complete.”

“Yeah,” she said, laughing as she pushed him playfully. “Thanks to you and your ridiculous rituals.”

Together, they began their walk back, the laughter echoing between them, even as the shadows around them grew longer and the sun dipped lower.