Dark Waters Apr 2026

Tonight, Elias wasn't skipping stones. He had a lantern, a heavy iron chain, and a desperate, foolish hope.

The pale hands reached for the edge of the boat. The wood began to crack under the weight of something immense rising from the silt. Elias realized then that the hands weren't separate bodies. They were all part of one thing—a vast, singular consciousness that lived in the dark, gathering the lost to keep its own loneliness at bay. Dark Waters

He dipped his oars into the water, careful not to break the surface with a splash. In Blackwood, noise was an invitation. Tonight, Elias wasn't skipping stones

"Is it peaceful?" Elias asked, his hand hovering over the water. "It is silent," the voice replied. The wood began to crack under the weight

As he reached the center of the lake, the air grew unnaturally still. The water began to vibrate—a low, rhythmic hum that Elias felt in his teeth. He lowered the lantern over the side. The light struggled against the murk, illuminating only a few feet of the swirling, ink-like depths. Then, he saw it.

The water began to rise. Not a wave, but a slow, bulging swell right beneath the boat. From the blackness, a face emerged. It was Thomas, or at least the memory of him, preserved in the cold, lightless pressure of the deep. His eyes were wide, glowing with a soft, bioluminescent amber, and his hair drifted around his head like smoke. He didn't look drowned. He looked... transformed.

Elias leaned over the gunwale, his heart hammering. "Thomas?" he whispered. The humming stopped.