The village of Rimehold sat nestled in a snowy valley, surrounded by jagged mountains that scraped at the heavens. Winters were harsh, but this year, the cold had settled in with a vengeance. The fields were buried under layers of frost, the forests barren of game. The villagers, bundled in tattered furs, whispered anxiously about the stores of food dwindling faster than they’d expected.
At the heart of the village was Frostmere Lake, a vast expanse of ice that stretched almost a mile across. It had frozen solid as it always did, its surface gleaming in the pale light of the sun. But unlike other lakes, Frostmere was shrouded in legend.
“Don’t break the ice,” the elders always warned. “What sleeps beneath must not be disturbed.”
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Kiera sat at the edge of the lake, her breath forming puffs of white in the freezing air. Her fishing spear lay across her knees, useless. The river she had fished in since childhood was frozen solid, the fish inaccessible beneath layers of ice. Her stomach growled, and she thought of her younger brother, Rowan, huddled by the fire back in their cottage, his cheeks hollow from hunger.
She glanced over her shoulder at the village. Smoke rose from chimneys, but it was a weak, sluggish sight—fuel was scarce. The villagers had begun to look at one another with suspicion, wondering who might have a hidden stash of food. The children, once noisy and playful even in the cold, now moved like ghosts through the snow.
Her gaze drifted back to the lake. Frostmere’s surface was pristine, untouched except for the snow that drifted across it. Her fingers tightened around the fishing spear.
Legends wouldn’t fill bellies.
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That night, Kiera returned to the lake under the cover of darkness. She carried a hand-drill borrowed from the carpenter and a lantern with a flickering flame. The moon hung high, casting a pale glow over the landscape.
As she stepped onto the ice, the air seemed to grow heavier. The sounds of the forest—the rustle of wind through bare branches, the distant call of an owl—faded, replaced by an eerie stillness. Kiera hesitated, her heart pounding, but desperation pushed her forward. She found a spot near the center of the lake and knelt, the cold seeping through her layers of clothing.
The drill bit into the ice with a satisfying crunch. She worked quickly, sweat beading on her forehead despite the chill. Each turn of the drill sent spirals of ice shavings onto the surface, and soon, she could hear the faint sound of water beneath.
Then she heard something else.
A low, resonant hum, so faint she thought she’d imagined it. She paused, looking around. The lake was empty, the snow-covered shore quiet. Shaking off her unease, she continued drilling until the ice gave way to an open hole.
She peered into the water, its surface as black as obsidian. Lowering her spear, she waited.
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The first catch came quickly—a fat fish, silvery and thrashing. Kiera grinned as she pulled it onto the ice. She could already imagine the look on Rowan’s face when she brought it home.
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As she reset her spear, the hum returned, louder this time. It was joined by a faint vibration that traveled through the ice beneath her knees.
“Just the wind,” she muttered, trying to convince herself.
But as the minutes passed, the hum grew into a low rumble. The ice began to creak and groan, thin cracks spiderwebbing outward from the hole. Kiera scrambled to her feet, clutching the fish in one hand and her spear in the other.
The water beneath the ice began to glow.
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Kiera stumbled backward, her boots slipping on the ice. The glow intensified, pulsating like a heartbeat. Then, with a sound like shattering glass, the ice around the hole exploded. A column of water shot into the air, freezing into glittering shards as it fell.
And from the depths of the lake, something rose.
It was massive, its form shifting and indistinct. At first, Kiera thought it was made of ice, but as it emerged further, she realized it was something else entirely—smooth, glistening, and faintly translucent, like crystal or glass. Its eyes, glowing orbs of blue, locked onto her, and she felt a cold deeper than any winter she’d ever known.
The creature tilted its head, studying her. Then, to her astonishment, it spoke—not with words, but with a voice that echoed directly in her mind.
“Why have you disturbed the lake?”
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Kiera’s voice caught in her throat. She took a step back, clutching the fish to her chest.
“My village is starving,” she finally said. “I needed to fish. I didn’t mean to... awaken you.”
The creature seemed to consider this. Its form shifted again, its edges shimmering like frost in the sunlight.
“The lake holds many secrets. Some are too dangerous to be disturbed. But you are not the first to come here in desperation.”
“What do you mean?” Kiera asked.
The creature’s eyes darkened, and an image appeared in her mind—a vision of the village as it had been centuries ago. It was bustling and prosperous, its people thriving even in the harshest winters. At the center of it all was Frostmere Lake, its waters shimmering with an unnatural brilliance.
“Long ago, your ancestors struck a bargain,” the creature said. “The lake would provide for them, but they would never take more than they needed. In return, I was placed here as guardian. But the balance was broken.”
The vision shifted, showing villagers breaking the ice, taking fish in abundance, draining the lake of its vitality. The water grew darker, the land colder. The creature itself seemed to weaken, its form flickering and dimming.
“The greed of the past cursed your village. Now, only restraint can keep the balance. You have broken the ice once more. What will you do now?”
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Kiera’s mind raced. The fish in her hands felt heavy, like a symbol of her guilt.
“If I return this, will the balance be restored?” she asked.
The creature regarded her silently for a long moment. Then it lowered its massive head.
“Return it, and I will allow you to leave. But remember: this is not a gift. It is a warning.”
Kiera hesitated. Her brother’s face flashed in her mind, pale and drawn. Could she really go back empty-handed? But as she looked into the creature’s glowing eyes, she understood that the price of defiance would be far greater.
With trembling hands, she knelt by the water and released the fish. It darted away, its silver scales catching the faint glow of the depths.
The creature sank back into the lake, the light fading. As it disappeared, the ice began to mend itself, the cracks sealing over as if they had never been there.
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When Kiera returned to the village, she found Rowan sitting up by the fire, a faint color returning to his cheeks.
“You’re back,” he said weakly. “Did you catch anything?”
Kiera shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “Not this time.”
But she couldn’t help noticing the air felt warmer, the oppressive chill lifting ever so slightly. Perhaps the balance had been restored, and with it, the village’s hope.
She vowed never to set foot on Frostmere Lake again. Some secrets, she realized, were better left undisturbed.