Interlude: Douglas

They said the Glass Lake was the great mirror of the world. It held the fragmented sky in its depths. It was older than the System, humans, and ancients. Douglas couldn’t remember a day without seeing it on the horizon line, its perfectly smooth surface gleaming even brighter than the sun.

The children of Everford liked to play by the lake’s shore. Their parents warned them of the dangers, of course, but they couldn’t help but be drawn to it.

Douglas himself could’ve sat for hours at the water’s edge staring into that silent stillness. He used to think the stories of people going insane from looking at the waters were ridiculous, but the older he got, the more he understood. It seemed to him that those waters were perhaps the only part of the world that remained untainted.

“What, do the corpses not count as stains?” his wife said with a snort.

“You know what I mean.” Douglas frowned. Even in their home, he could see the lake through the window. A lingering, permanent presence.

Anne laughed and bounced their sleeping son a few times in her arms. Wrapped and covered in a cocoon of blankets, Douglas thought he looked terribly small.

“Well, you’d better watch Finn. If he’s anything like you he’ll end up wandering too close to the lake when he grows up.”

“I’ll be a good example,” Douglas promised. Anne rolled her eyes and lightly tapped his forehead.

“You do that,” she murmured. “And watch yourself, too.”

—

Douglas frowned down at Finn, the boy’s arms crossed and cheeks slightly puffed out in a pout. His hair—the same light blonde as Anne’s—was a rumpled mess, and there were a few telltale scratches on his cheek.

His first instinct was to coddle the boy, but Anne shot him a knowing look from behind Finn. He made sure to keep his shoulders squared.

“Were you fighting Ivan again?”

Finn’s face twisted into a scowl.

“He started it!”

“That’s not what your teacher says,” Anne said in a sing-song voice, and if possible Finn only pouted even more. Douglas shook his head and attempted to look as disapproving as possible.

“You should know better. You’re older than him.”

“By four months,” Finn muttered under his breath. Anne cleared her throat and he straightened again.

Douglas waited for Anne to say more, but she kept looking at him, and he realized she was leaving this to him. The thought made his chest twist with anxiety; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the concept of “raising children.” Still, he exhaled and fixed his son with a stern look.

“You need to apologize to him.” Douglas paused, thinking about what Anne would probably do.

“Why don’t you invite him over, while you’re at it?” he added.

Anne nodded approvingly behind Finn, and Douglas mentally sighed in relief. Finn, meanwhile, looked like he’d just swallowed a very sour lemon.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Douglas said firmly.

“But—”

Douglas frowned, and that seemed to be enough to cut Finn off. The boy mumbled and grumbled under his breath, but he didn’t voice another complaint. Not loudly, at least.

Spinning around, Finn ran out the room without another look at them. It hurt a little to see the boy angry at him. This was fine, Douglas reminded himself. He was teaching Finn important life lessons. He couldn’t always be soft, as Anne always liked to remind him.

“Do you think he’ll actually apologize?” Douglas asked. The woman chuckled.

“Probably not, but that’s what the dinner is for.” She glanced outside, where the high afternoon sun beamed down on the shimmering lake. “Could you get some more flour? We’re running low.”

Douglas smiled. “Of course.”

—

Douglas burst out of the house, head swiveling frantically until his eyes finally landed on a familiar figure seated a few feet away from the lake shore. The man ran forward.

“Anne!” he called. She glanced back, an eyebrow raised, and made a shushing motion. Douglas frowned, but he followed the woman’s gaze and realized that Finn was sleeping on her lap, the boy’s snores loud and constant. Anne looked amused.

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“Careful, you’ll wake him up.”

Douglas’s shoulders relaxed, but only slightly. His brows remained furrowed.

“We need to get indoors,” he urged. “It’s dangerous.”

Anne sighed. Above them, silver moonlight beamed down on the sleeping village, illuminating the surface of the Glass Lake.

Compared to the bright light of day, this was softer, blurring the edges of the waters and lending them an almost ethereal glow. Littered across the surface, Douglas could see the reflection of scattered stars, as though the night sky itself was contained within those depths.

“The Silence hasn’t appeared yet,” Anne murmured.

“But what if it does?” Douglas urged. He was acutely aware of how exposed they were, the village buildings rendered as silent silhouettes behind them.

Anne was quiet for a moment, one hand softly stroking Finn’s hair.

“Another ten minutes,” she finally said. Douglas opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. “Come on, you’re the one who used to want to see the lake at night, right?”

Douglas faltered. That had indeed been a wish of his when he was younger and the world had seemed full of possibilities. When he thought any and all dangers could be surmounted.

Anne smiled and patted the grass beside her. Her golden hair waved in the wind. The moonlight softened the wrinkles on her face and the bags under her eyes that had remained stubbornly in place since the birth of their son. She looked more at peace than Douglas had seen in a long time.

“Ten minutes,” she repeated. “If a field of Silence appears, we’ll run indoors.”

Douglas stared down at her and the sleeping Finn for a moment, the Glass Lake shining in his peripheral vision.

Finally, after a moment of hesitation, he carefully sat down on the grass beside her. The ground was cool and soft.

In front of them, the surface of the water remained perfectly tranquil.

—

The wave rose without warning.

One moment the Glass Lake was the same as it always was. The next, its surface twisted and shot upwards, casting a dark silhouette over Everford as the water stretched and grew before finally reaching its peak.

The village didn’t stand a chance.

That day was a blur to Douglas. He remembered watching wooden beams snap like twigs under the roaring rush of water. He remembered waves rising and smothering everything below.

He remembered the cold permeating his bones, the violent tides tugging him in every direction and forcing him under only to drag him out and back in again.

He remembered the village crumpling like a sandcastle underneath the force, the entire lives of the people within destroyed and rendered into nothing in less than an hour.

Soaked head to toe, vision blurry and lungs heaving, he remembered clutching the shivering form to his chest like a lifeline—the only thing he’d managed to salvage in the wreckage.

He remembered hearing the boy’s voice shaking as he muttered apologies, saying he’d been playing by the water before, blaming himself for not seeing the wave coming.

In Douglas’s weariness, he didn’t say anything. His mind was too busy, still filled with images of his own home broken and destroyed. Imagining the limp bodies he hadn’t been strong enough to save.

He barely noticed the sound of approaching horse hooves or the voice speaking to him. Everything was a blur—a whirlpool of vague impressions and sensations.

By the time he finally returned to his senses, barely managing to blink through the fog in his mind, brown eyes met pale blue. The woman atop the horse simply studied him and Ivan for a moment.

Finally, she turned and yelled at someone to bring blankets and food, and Douglas heard pattering footsteps around them as people hurried to follow her orders.

He heard Ivan sniff, and he unconsciously hugged the boy closer. They were the only ones left now, he thought vaguely. Him and the one person he’d managed to pull from the water.

A notification popped up in his vision, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was too late now, anyway. He used to bet with Anne what his personal skill would end up being, what would trigger its appearance. Now he wished he never had to find out.

Douglas closed his eyes, imagining that it was Finn he was holding, that Anne was sitting beside him.

When brown eyes opened again, he wondered if he was a terrible person for thinking that he’d saved the wrong person.

—

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Sonia raised an eyebrow, turning to face Douglas.

“What exactly do you mean?”

The man frowned. “The fragment. I understand pursuing them, but a fragment on the lake? Can we be certain it’s there? It’s a great risk to bargain on.”

Sonia chuckled. “Are you doubting Ivan’s vision?”

“Of course not,” Douglas said immediately. “I simply worry about angering the fae. We both know how dangerous the Glass Lake is.”

The Hounds leader hummed. “That’s true,” she remarked. She rose, standing and striding past her second in command to exit the tent.

“I, however, have no intention to let fear get in the way of an opportunity like this.” She paused, glancing back at Douglas with a raised eyebrow. “If you’re worried about the fae, then you can sit this one out, Douglas.”

The man shook his head. He couldn’t leave the other Hounds, especially not when there were so many younger people in the group. Dalton had joined a year ago. And, of course, he couldn’t leave Ivan alone. They were the last remnants of Everford.

“No, I…I just wanted to clarify the situation,” he said.

Sonia hummed, and without another word, she turned and exited the tent, leaving Doulas alone inside.

The man frowned, mind churning as he heard Sonia calling the Hounds for a gathering. Through the open tent flap, he could see the clear sky above them. Though the Glass Lake was nowhere in sight, he could easily picture it sitting on the horizon, its flat expanse and shining waters.

Douglas closed his eyes. When they’d searched the wreckage after the destruction twelve years ago, they’d found no bodies. Sonia had theorized that the waters had pulled the bodies back into the lake when the wave retreated, though of course, the waters remained crystal clear afterwards.

If they went through with their plan, they would end up on the Glass Lake’s surface. He wondered if Anne and Finn and the rest of the village were really there, buried deep below the waters.

Straightening, Douglas stepped out of the tent. The cool wind of northern Avel greeted him, so much sharper than he was used to.

For a brief moment, caught on the threshold of the present and memory, the breeze sounded like the roar of an all consuming tide.