The pond was unnaturally still. No breeze stirred its surface, no ripple broke the mirror-like reflection of the sky. Lysander crouched at the edge, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. His gaze, sharp and searching, followed the slow, languid movements of a fish beneath the surface—its scales glimmering like liquid silver in the dim light.
He leaned in closer, his breath steady, the scent of damp earth and water moss filling his lungs. His reflection merged with the fish’s movements, distorting slightly as he drew nearer. The pond was deep—far deeper than it should have been. He could not see the bottom, only endless blackness beneath the rippling sunlight.
The fish turned abruptly, darting away into the abyss. Lysander frowned, tilting his head. And then he saw it.
A shadow, shifting beneath the surface.
Lysander’s heartbeat remained steady, but his breath caught as something emerged from the depths—a shape, a presence. Before he could react, the water broke.
A face.
Soft lips pressed against his. Cool, silken skin brushed his own. A kiss—unexpected, firm, yet strangely gentle.
His mind fractured into a thousand thoughts, yet his body did not pull away. The sensation was foreign, like sinking into a dream, like falling into the depths without ever moving. Her lips were cold, tasting of salt and night, of something old and unknown.
Then, as swiftly as she had come, she pulled back.
Lysander found himself frozen, watching as the woman sank back into the water. Her dark hair spread like ink, her pale face barely visible beneath the surface. A pair of eyes—deep, endless, unreadable—held his for a moment longer. Then she turned, revealing the full length of her form.
A tail.
Dark, textured with delicate scales that shimmered like obsidian, powerful and long. A wide fin flicked once, sending a slow ripple through the water. The golden adornments on her shoulders caught the dim light as she drifted further into the depths, dissolving into the blackness.

Lysander did not move.