Sylvie hung suspended beneath the surface of Lake Triumph, her lungs burning, her mind reeling. Below her, Jason-was gone, vanishing into the abyss, dragged out of sight by that thing. A skeletal figure with blazing, unnatural eyes, its form barely visible in the crushing darkness.

Terror surged through her, adrenaline warring with exhaustion as she kicked desperately, pushing herself toward the surface. The cold wrapped around her like a vice, her limbs aching as she fought against the weight of the water. Her eyes darted wildly, searching for any sign of Jason-of anything-but all she found was silence.

And then she saw it.

A massive shadow surged up from the depths, moving with terrifying speed, its hulking form cutting through the water like a phantom.

Oh God.

A primal, animalistic fear gripped her chest. She flinched, pushing herself backward just as the dark mass rushed past, missing her by inches. The force of its movement sent a violent current rippling through the lake, spinning her helplessly in its wake.

Her whole body screamed for air, her chest tightening like a clenched fist. She twisted, desperate to right herself, her vision swimming as the frigid water numbed her limbs. Her heart pounded against her ribs, each beat a frantic drum signaling her dwindling time.

She needed to escape. She needed to breathe.

Sylvie reached upward, pulling at the water with every ounce of strength she had left. The surface seemed so far away-miles above her, taunting her with the promise of air she might never reach.

Then... the shadows shifted.

Shapes. Dark, unnatural, moving.

They slithered through the water, creeping in from all sides-twisted, shifting things that should not exist. They circled her, closing in, their presence heavy and suffocating.

Panic clawed at her throat. She thrashed, but her limbs felt like lead, every motion sluggish, drained of power. The cold had taken its toll. Her body was shutting down.

No. No. No. No.

She fought harder, but it was useless. The world tilted, her vision flickering at the edges as her strength gave out.

....

Sylvie gasped as the world came crashing back into focus, her body wracked with shivers as strong hands hauled her from the freezing depths. She coughed violently, water spilling from her lips as the cold air bit into her soaked skin.

"Easy, I got you now."

The voice was steady, grounding. She blinked up through wet lashes to see Parker, his expression tense but reassuring. He heaved her trembling form onto his patrol boat, his grip firm but careful, and immediately wrapped a thick blanket around her shoulders. The warmth was a stark contrast to the icy grip of the lake, but it did little to stop the shaking deep in her bones.

Sylvie's breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to speak.

"We need to save him," she choked out, her voice hoarse, her throat raw from the water.

Parker's face softened with something dangerously close to pity. "I know," he said gently.

"Your friend Gianna's already got some people in lifeboats searching for him. Backup's on the way. But right now, I need to get you somewhere warm, or you're gonna freeze solid."

"No-no, you don't understand." Sylvie shook her head violently, gripping the blanket tighter as if it could keep her from falling apart.

"There's... something down there! Someone-something took him!"

That made Parker pause. His brows furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he crouched in front of her, studying her face carefully.

"What took him?" he asked, his voice calm, but laced with quiet urgency.

Sylvie opened her mouth, but the words wouldn't come. She saw it again-the glowing skeletal eyes staring into hers, the dark tendrils wrapping around Jason, dragging him deeper, devouring him. The shifting shapes in the water, circling, closing in-

Her stomach twisted.

Parker watched her, waiting. The lake stretched out around them, vast and endless, its dark surface rippling softly in the moonlight. She suddenly became hyper-aware of how much water surrounded the boat, how deep it ran, how much of it she couldn't see.

Her throat closed.

What was she supposed to say? That a monster from the depths of hell had taken Jason? That the water was alive with something ancient and unnatural? That the town's picture-perfect illusion had shattered before her eyes?

She swallowed hard, her fingers digging into the blanket.

Parker tilted his head, his voice dropping lower.

"Hey, it's alright," he assured her. "You're safe now. Just tell me... what did you see down there?"

Sylvie met his gaze, but the words died on her tongue.

Because the truth was-she had no idea

-:The Next Morning:-

Morning found Sylvie sitting in a small, cluttered office inside the police station, wrapped in a borrowed hoodie that was several sizes too big. The fabric smelled faintly of coffee and old paper, the scent mixing with the lingering chill in her bones.

She jumped slightly as the door creaked open behind her.

Chief Ethan Marshall stepped inside, balancing two steaming mugs in his hands. He was a tall man in his late forties, his salt-and-pepper hair slightly disheveled, the lines around his eyes deep with years of experience. Despite his firm presence, his face carried an easy warmth.

"I knew Jackson had a stash of the good stuff somewhere," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Nothing like a cup of cocoa to chase the shivers away."

Sylvie hesitated before accepting one of the mugs, the heat seeping into her frozen fingers.

"Umm... thank you," she murmured, barely above a whisper.

She took a careful sip, letting the warmth spread through her, but it did little to ease the knot of unease tightening in her stomach. Across from her, Chief Marshall settled into his chair, studying her with quiet concern.

"Alright, kiddo," he said gently, setting his mug down.

"I don't want you to think you're in any kind of trouble. Goodness knows you've been through enough already. But if you're feeling up to it, I'd really appreciate you telling me everything you remember about what happened last night."

Sylvie swallowed, gripping the mug tightly as she recounted everything-how she'd met up with Jason, how she lost track of him, the argument between Parker and Gianna, and then... seeing Jason standing on the railing.

"He was just... staring at the lake," she said, her voice uneven.

"Like he was hypnotized or something. I tried to reach him, but... I wasn't fast enough. He fell in, and I went after him."

Chief Marshall listened intently, nodding along. He reached for a folder on his desk, flipping through a few pages, scanning the reports inside.

"Officer Parker mentioned that you saw something unusual in the water?" he asked, his tone careful, measured.

Sylvie's breath hitched. She had seen something-someone. That thing, with burning neon eyes and skeletal fingers wrapping around Jason, dragging him down. But... would Marshall believe her? Would anyone?

She lowered her gaze, tightening her grip on the mug. "It was dark," she said finally.

"And... and I was really freaked out. I thought I saw something holding Jason, but..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

"Maybe I imagined it."

The Chief studied her for a long moment. His face remained unreadable, but there was no accusation in his gaze, only understanding.

"That's fine," he said finally, his voice kind. "Like I said, this is just a formality."

He closed the folder with a quiet thud and exhaled.

"Look, you've been through something terrible. It's understandable that you're feeling a bit disoriented afterward. Why don't you head on home and get some rest? I'll give you a call if we have any more questions."

Sylvie nodded absently, but the tightness in her chest remained.

She knew what she saw.

And deep down, she knew this wasn't over.

Sylvie drained the last of her cocoa, the warmth of it doing little to ease the cold settling deep in her bones. She stood slowly, setting the empty cup on Chief Marshall's desk with a quiet clink.

"I know that he seemed like a good guy," she said, her voice measured but heavy with emotion.

Marshall's gaze softened.

"He was a great kid," he murmured. "He's going to be sorely missed."

Sylvie hesitated before speaking again. "I know you probably can't share details of an active investigation, but once it's all over... I just want to know what happened. Please."

For a fleeting moment, something unreadable crossed the Chief's face-surprise, hesitation-but then his expression shifted into something else. Pity.

"Oh, Sylvie..." he sighed. "I'm sorry, but... well, there's not going to be an investigation."

Sylvie's stomach dropped. She blinked at him, her breath hitching.

"What?"

Marshall leaned forward slightly, lacing his fingers together on the desk.

"It's tragic, but this isn't the first time we've seen an accident like this in Sunshine Grove. When someone has a little too much to drink, it's easy to forget how dangerous the water can be."

Sylvie's hands curled into fists.

"Wait-what? Jason’s death wasn't an accident! He didn't just fall into the lake-something took him!"

Her voice cracked, frustration bubbling over into desperation, but Marshall didn't flinch. He simply absorbed her anger with the patience of someone who had delivered bad news far too many times before.

"I know this isn't easy to hear, Sylvie," he said quietly.

"Heck, if I were in your place, I'd probably put my fist through the wall by now. But..." He sighed, rubbing his temple. "Jason's body washed up a few hours ago. Not a mark on him. And the toxicology report shows he had quite a bit to drink last night."

Sylvie shook her head, taking a step forward. "No, no, that's not-"

"I'm sorry, I really am," he interrupted gently.

"But I think it's best for everyone if we just accept the facts as they are and try to move on."

Sylvie felt like the ground beneath her had vanished. A dull roar filled her ears as disbelief coursed through her.

He was brushing this off.

He wasn't listening.

"But at least hear me out!" she pleaded, her voice raw.

Marshall's expression didn't change.

"I really think you should be getting on home now. I bet your family's worried sick."

A sharp sting of frustration burned in Sylvie's chest. She clenched her jaw, swallowing the words that threatened to spill out, knowing they would do no good.

Without another word, she turned on her heel, yanked open the door, and stepped out into the hallway, her mind spinning with questions.

They weren't going to investigate.

They were going to write Jason off as just another tragic accident.

But Sylvie knew the truth.

And she wasn't about to let it go.

...

A heavy air of melancholy hung over the station, thick as the scent of stale coffee and damp wool from soaked coats. The room was packed-haggard-looking officers moved between groups of party guests, all waiting for their turn to be interviewed. Some whispered in hushed tones, their voices edged with unease, while others stared blankly ahead, lost in thought.

At a small desk near the door, Sylvie spotted Parker, his usual calm demeanor unwavering as he addressed an irate man with a thick beard.

"Easy, Nathan," Parker said, his voice patient but firm.

"The Chief's not avoiding you. He's just booked solid with interviews all morning. How about I set you up for after lunch?"

Nathan let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Right. So he can reschedule five times and then cancel on me again? I'm sick of being jerked around."

Sylvie's gaze lingered on him. Whoa... What's his problem?

Shaking the thought away, she let her eyes sweep across the room, her stomach twisting when she spotted another familiar figure standing in the far corner.

Gianna.

She was dabbing at her nose with a crumpled tissue, her shoulders trembling. But the moment she saw Sylvie, she straightened and crossed the room in quick strides, wrapping Sylvie in a tight embrace. Gianna's body quivered against her, and before Sylvie could say a word, she felt warm tears dampen her shoulder.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Sylvie simply held her, letting the quiet, shuddering sobs fill the silence between them.

Finally, Gianna pulled away, attempting a smile through her tear-streaked face.

"How are you holding up?" Sylvie asked gently.

Gianna let out a shaky breath, her hands twisting into the fabric of her dress as she looked down.

"I just... I don't understand how this could happen. Sylvie, people are saying he fell in because he was drunk." She lifted her gaze, eyes glistening. "But you talked to him, right?"

Sylvie hesitated. "He definitely didn't seem drunk enough to do something like this. I..."

The words caught in her throat. Should she tell her everything? Every strange detail she had noticed? Before she could decide, a voice cut through the heavy air like a knife.

"Don't you get it?"

Sylvie turned just in time to see Nathan glaring in her direction, his face flushed with frustration.

"It's all happening again, and not one of you idiots will do something about it!"

Sylvie's pulse quickened. "Wait-what do you mean, 'it's happening again'? Do you know something?"

Nathan's fists clenched at his sides. "This isn't the first time a mysterious drowning has been written off as a 'drunken accident'!"

Sylvie's breath hitched. "Hang on... so you're saying this has happened before? When?"

Nathan's eyes darkened with something close to fury.

"It's been happening for years! And it just keeps getting worse! How much longer will the cops ignore what's happening? How many more have to die before you people see that there's something wrong with this town?!"

His words rang out in the cramped space, bouncing off the walls like an accusation. The station fell silent. Even the officers had paused, their eyes shifting warily toward him.

And then, before anyone could respond, another voice cut through the tension-smooth, measured, and cool as ice.

"I think that's quite enough."

Sylvie turned, her breath catching as she took in the striking woman who had just entered the station. She was stunning, in the way that statues were-flawless, cold, and unyielding. Her posture was rigid with authority, her expression unreadable save for the icy sharpness in her gaze. Two men flanked her, both imposing in their own way.

The woman's lips barely moved as she spoke again, but her voice sliced through the heavy silence like a blade.

"I will thank you to stop upsetting my daughter. She's been through enough for one day, wouldn't you agree?"

Sylvie glanced at Gianna, whose entire demeanor had changed in an instant. Her shoulders hunched, her arms pulled close to her chest as if trying to make herself smaller. She kept her gaze locked on the floor, as if afraid to meet anyone's eyes.

The woman beckoned with a simple motion of her hand, and Gianna nodded meekly.

"Bye, Sylvie," Gianna murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry about all this."

Sylvie's chest ached at the way she sounded-small, guilty, as if she were the one who had done something wrong.

"It's okay," Sylvie reassured her gently. "Don't apologize. This isn't your fault."

"But if I hadn't kept everyone out past curfew..." Gianna's voice cracked.

Sylvie frowned. "Stop. There's no way you could have known this would happen. You are not to blame for this, okay?"

For a moment, Gianna hesitated, then a small, fragile smile flickered across her face. She leaned in and gave Sylvie a quick but tight hug, then turned and followed her mother into the Chief's office.

One of the men moved with her, his towering frame barely fitting into his crisp suit. The fabric stretched taut over broad shoulders, emphasizing his sheer size. He walked with the quiet authority of someone used to commanding a room without saying a word.

The other man, however, lingered. His presence was less physically imposing, but there was something equally unsettling about the way he carried himself. He stepped toward Nathan, resting a hand on his shoulder with an almost practiced ease.

"Don't take my wife's words too hard," the man said smoothly, his tone polished and measured.

"This tragic accident has us all a little on edge."

Nathan's whole body stiffened. His jaw clenched.

"It wasn't a-"

"How are you, Nathan?" the man cut in, his voice dripping with an unsettling blend of familiarity and dismissal.

"We missed you at the children's charity brunch last week."

Nathan exhaled sharply, his hands curling into fists. "Sorry, Carl... I've been busy."

Carl smiled, all white teeth and empty warmth.

"I understand. Keep in touch, okay? You know Astrid and I worry about you."

He clapped Nathan on the back in a way that seemed more like a warning than reassurance before casually strolling toward the Chief's office to join his wife.

Nathan stood there for a long second, his body taut with barely contained frustration. Then, without another word, he turned and stormed out of the police station, muttering darkly under his breath.

"Patronizing son of a... Can't ignore the truth forever."

Sylvie exhaled, her gaze shifting between the polished, powerful couple disappearing into the Chief's office and the door Nathan had just slammed through. What the hell was all that?