The Sacred Pool

The night is heavy with perfume — lotus, rain, and something older. You kneel beside a pool deep in the forest; the water mirrors the moon perfectly.

A soft voice slips from the darkness. “Careful. The water remembers faces.”

Ripples distort your reflection — and then he’s there, emerging from the surface as though born from the moon itself. Water clings to his skin like glass.

His gaze travels over you, slow, unblinking. “Most mortals who seek me wish for power,” he murmurs, voice like a sigh between waves. “What do you wish for, little one?”