The Return (working title)

I stared out at the snow, debating how to broach the topic to my now-fiance. This wasn’t a normal my-family-is-weird-please-don’t-judge-me conversation. This was something I also believed in, would continue to believe in. Needed him to approve of, join in, and help me with for the rest of our lives.

And he wasn’t going to take it well. He lived very much in the here and now–no planning for the future, not much, anyway. It was harder to be disappointed like that. No dwelling on the past–mistakes should stay buried. But this…I needed him to have my back about this.

I had never expected to be the one in charge of the land. That was supposed to have gone to the eldest son–even when there was an elder daughter, and me being born nearly out of wedlock had been brought up several times as well–like it was my fault my parents got married just two months before I was born and then split. My mother had later died in a travel accident, and it had been just me and my dad for a few years until she showed up and had her precious son and wanted him to inherit everything. And I hadn’t really fought all that hard because well, I had been a child, and also…I had just wanted to flee. To travel the world the rest of my life and never return.

Now, though, with my brother missing and presumed dead, it fell back to me to guard the frozen lake and its surroundings from what legends believed lay beneath the surface, locked in an eternal prison, oblivious to the passing of time.

Weird things happened around the lake. And it remained frozen year round, even though the climate of the area didn’t. Something had to be true. The original native tribes had thought it was a portal to the spirit realm. The Christian settlers believed it to be a gate to Satan’s personal Hell and touching it would set the Devil loose.

I just believed it was weird. And weird and dangerous things happened around it. That was all. My stepmother had sneered at me to be more grateful for my gift, but she had never managed to see past the wealth the land brought us, in tourism, mostly, and see how my dreams lay elsewhere. Far from this time-locked lake, anywhere else in the world would do.

I finally stood and blew against the window, fogging up the glass and blurring the view of the still surface beyond. I collected my cool mug of cocoa and went upstairs. All the clocks read midnight, but he would still be up–he worked late nights on the road a lot. By the time I reached his room, everything had shifted over to the new year in silence, my family struck by grief, refusing to move forward without my brother. I could hear the keys clacking as I knocked on my fiance’s door, and was relieved when they paused, followed by footsteps approaching.

He opened the door and let me inside before closing it behind me, wrapping his arms around me and whispering “Happy new year.” before pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I felt slightly less tense and empty, and he squeezed me before letting me go and sitting back down in his chair. I sat on the bed.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I have to take it. Hopefully it won’t be for long, and Tom will wake up and take it back over.”

“We have our own life…” he began, but I was already shaking my head, my eyes watering.

“I know.” I whispered. “But this is more than me, bigger than us.”

“You actually believe the stories, don’t you?” As much as I expected to hear disappointment, I didn't.” That brought a wave of relief. I curled up, bringing my knees to my chin and wrapping my arms around my shins.

“I don’t know what I believe. Except that weird things happen around here, and without someone with generations of knowledge and experience to draw on here to defend it, this land will either be destroyed or be our destruction. I can’t let either of those happen.”

“On one condition.” his voice was quiet, with that level seriousness only he used.

“What?”

“Take me down to the lake.”

“It’s snowing–it will be a blizzard out there soon if it isn’t already.”

“Doesn’t have to be right now…just before we sign any papers.” I looked up, meeting his eyes, then nodded. I was asking so much of him, I could break this one small rule. It wasn’t like I’d never walked down there myself. Although the three-day-long gap in my memory of what had happened afterwards made my stomach twist, I hadn’t been hurt. We could go tomorrow night, just between the storms set to batter us for the next week.

The next night, I balanced a flashlight in my thickly mittened hands, keeping it on its dimmest setting as we walked carefully through the densest part of the forest that extended closest to the shoreline. Our feet crunched through the fresh snow beneath us. We only had another two hours before the next storm was due to hit, the freezing wind already blowing dark clouds over our heads, blocking out the moon and stars. But it would cover our tracks. No one would ever know we had come out here.

I held my arm out from my side, keeping him back from the edge. He stared wide-eyed out across the sheet of ice, as far as the dim lighting and thick fog would allow. The shore sloped sharply down here, with frozen rocks buried under the snow. His foot squeaked, sliding from where he’d planted it, his body tilting down towards the snow coating the ice. I tried to grab him and pull him back, but his greater weight brought me down on top of him, sliding down the rocks and slamming into the ice. I waited a breath, even my heart beat pausing in anxiety, but nothing happened. One long breath turned into three, then five, then I rolled off him, hissing random curses in every language I spoke. Something had caught my leg as we fell, ripping through both layers of pants and likely drawing blood, based on the level of pain shooting up my side. A gunshot sounded from across the lake. I froze on my hands and knees, my body shaking, and not from cold or pain. He sat up, turning towards me, mouth open as if to speak.

Another gunshot. And a third–that extended into a long, horrifying cracking noise. Terrified tears dripped from my nose onto the surface of the lake, freezing before they bounced where our fall had swept the snow clear. Something moved beneath the sheet of ice, a body, a face–a memory flashed across my mind, of a beautiful friend long gone, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

“We have to go–” his hands were on my coat, pulling, and then gone. I couldn’t move, couldn’t turn my head to see where he’d gone. My whole world split open between my hands, water rushing out, liquid water, dark, black, and bottomless. Like blood, or ink. My hands and wrists were so instantly numb I couldn’t feel the hands that came out and grabbed me, pulling me under. Water filled my lungs, and everything froze.

I opened my eyes to see a familiar stone cottage, surrounded by a small spring garden, and then layers upon layers of ever-rising cliffs, dark and slick with running water that fed the small moat circling the tiny island. A familiar figure paced back and forth across the grass in front of me, and I knew just from his gait that this was the most agitated and upset I had ever seen him.

But when–where–had I seen him before? Here? I looked around, but I couldn’t place it, just that it felt familiar.

A few thumps echoed around like a drumbeat, and I looked up. I could see a figure far above us, moving, hear a faint echo of shouting, and the man pacing looked up, face twisted in fury.

“Who is that?” he demanded, turning to face me, his deep green eyes flecked with spots of ruby as he struggled to control his temper.

“Huh?”

“Who. Is. That.” His voice dropped to a low growl.

“Liam. My fiance. Probably.” I shrugged, suddenly not quite sure of where I was or how I got here, but I had an inkling I might be inside the lake. And it did seem like a kind of prison, but he didn’t look like any depiction of the Devil that I had ever seen.

“And what does that make me, your other betrothed?”

I just stared at him, my jaw dropped with twin popping sounds, and I rubbed the side of my face with a grimace. He reached out a hand, fingertips poised to brush my cheek, and then withdrew it quickly. I flinched, expecting a strike, but none came. He saw me flinch and took a few steps back, palms up in a gesture of peace–or surrender.

“I would never.” He said quietly, his voice low.