An Ancient Stillness

There are places in this world where time moves differently, where the natural order bends to accommodate older laws. Stillwater Lake is one such place—a mirror of black water nestled in the Cascade Mountains, where no wind has disturbed the surface in living memory, where no fish jump, where even the insects avoid its shores.

The locals will tell you it's always been this way, but their eyes dart away when they say it, and their voices carry the weight of inherited fear. They know what lies beneath that glassy surface, even if they've trained themselves not to remember.

Some mirrors are meant to remain unbroken. Some stillness is bought with blood.

This is the story of what happens when someone finally asks why.