The moon sat heavy over the valley, reflecting off the surface of the lake like a polished silver coin. On the rickety wooden dock, a ring light flickered, casting a clinical, white glow that fought against the deep shadows of the surrounding pines.
"One more time! From the bridge!" Atlas called out, rubbing her temples. The left side of her brain was running through the remaining filming time against the rapidly draining camera batteries, while the right was already editing the footage in her head. "If we don’t get the lighting right for the 'Berry Hunting' chorus now, we’re losing the whole aesthetic."
"My 'aesthetic' is currently 'frozen popsicle,'" Nova snapped, adjusting the faux-fur stole over her shoulders. She checked her reflection in the darkened screen of her phone, tossing her hair with a practiced, intimidating grace. "I’m a baddie, not a lumberjack. If a bug lands on me in the next thirty seconds, this band is officially finito."
Azula giggled, twirling a strand of her blonde locs around her finger as she stared into the dark woods. "Do you think the animals out there like the music? Technically, they’re our first real fans."
"Unfortunately, they’re just trying to eat us," Jacerys muttered, his voice a flat, melodic drone. He didn't look up from his laptop, his fingers dancing across the keys as he tweaked the bass levels of the track. "But then, we’re just eating the planet anyway. It’s a closed loop of pointlessness. The beat is dropped, by the way. It’s perfect."
"That’s the spirit!" Lucian shouted, clapping Jacerys on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. He was beaming, his restless aura practically vibrating against the calm energy of the night. He looked at the dark, still water and then back at his exhausted friends. "We’ve been at this for twelve hours. We’re dirty, we’re tired, and we’re stressed. We deserve a soak."
Before anyone could protest, he kicked off his sneakers. "Last one in the lake is a loser!"
He sprinted off the end of the dock. The splash was massive, a dark explosion of water that seemed to swallow the sound of the forest.
"Absolutely not," Nova said, though somehow she was already unzipping her designer boots. She couldn't let him have the last word; her adventurous nature was already overriding her complaints. "If I drown, Lucian, I’m haunting your closet first."
One by one, they followed. Azula skipped in with a joyful shriek, shimmying out of her outer layers; Jacerys walked in with a resigned sigh, accepting a fate he’d already predicted. Finally, Atlas watched the ripples with a furrowed brow. Her logic told her the water looked too still, too dark, but her intuition picked up a strange pull from the lake. It felt as if the water were waiting for them.
The moment they plunged in, the water felt... wrong. It wasn't cold. It felt thick, like swimming through heavy, freezing silk. It tasted faintly of copper and ancient wood smoke.
"Hey," Lucian said, his voice sounding oddly muffled as they all treaded water in a circle. "Is it just me, or is it getting really quiet?"
It wasn't just him. The crickets had stopped. The wind had died.
"My heart," Atlas whispered, her eyes widening. She pressed a hand to her chest. The steady beat she had lived with for twenty-two years was stretching out until the gaps in between felt like hours. Thump... then a long, agonizing silence. Thump...
"I feel... heavy," Azula whimpered, her bubbly face turning a porcelain white in the moonlight. She didn't look scared; she looked sleepy. Terrifyingly sleepy.
The panic hit Lucian first. He tried to swim for the dock, but his muscles refused to twitch. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out, only a bubble of air that stayed trapped on the surface.
One by one, the light left their eyes. Jacerys watched the moon, his alien-like detachment finally meeting a mystery he couldn't solve, as his pupils dilated until his vision blurred to black. Nova reached for Atlas's hand, their fingers brushing for one final second before the unnatural weight of the water pulled them under.
The lake grew still, becoming a mirror once again. On the dock, the Bluetooth speaker continued to blare the upbeat, bubbly rhythm of "Berry Hunting."
Hours later, five bodies floated to the surface, facedown, drifting like fallen leaves. Deep beneath them, the ashes of 1867 stirred in the silt, finally finding a new place to call home.