"No—no, it’s okay, you can just stay here..."
I quickly raised my hand in front of the driver, stopping him from following.
The air was cool and faintly sweet, carrying the scent of wet earth and morning mist. We were already standing by the lakeside, the car parked behind us, its wheels half-sunk in soft soil.
I looked around, trying to match the place with what I rembered from the book — the old willow, the uneven stones, the quiet ripple that caught the light just right.
Sowhere here. It had to be.
"But my lady," the driver said hesitantly, taking a cautious step forward, "I really should walk you to Lord Drake for your safety—"
"Hmm?" I turned, blinking at him. "Oh, right. I forgot to ask... what’s your na, sir?"
He looked startled by the question. "Ah—" Straightening imdiately, he brushed invisible dust from his coat and bowed slightly. "Forgive , my lady. I’m Marek, of the Kirin Clan."
"Kirin Clan?" I echoed, curiosity slipping into my tone. "What’s a Kirin?"
I tilted my head, trying to recall if I’d ever read about them before. "Is there even a mythical creature nad Kirin?"
Marek blinked, clearly unsure if I was teasing him or not. "Yes, my lady," he said carefully. "We’re descendants of the qilin... a guardian beast once called a celestial protector, before the world began dividing us into ranks and clans."
I blinked at him, then frowned. "So, technically, you’re like... a holy driver?"
He coughed, looking faintly offended. "A descendant of one, perhaps."
I grinned. "I’m sorry, I’m just kidding."
A corner of his mouth twitched, but he stayed polite. "It’s okay my lady, ti changes and we do anything we can to survive."
That earned a quiet smile from . "I agreed."
I glanced back toward the lake. The mist had thinned just enough to reveal the long stretch of silver water and a cluster of trees near the far side. One of them stood out, it was taller, looked older and its branches seed heavier than the rest.
I pointed toward it. "Hey, Marek... that old willow tree over there, the really big one... do you know anything about it?"
Marek followed my gaze, eyes narrowing slightly. "The willow?"
"Yeah," I said, stepping closer to the edge of the path. "It looks... ancient. Like the kind of tree that is really... special?"
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he exhaled quietly, almost as if he’d been hesitating. "That tree’s been here longer than anyone in this region, my lady. They say it was already old when the first settlents were built."
I tilted my head. "So it’s a historical tree."
He gave a short, hesitant nod. "Historical, yes... but also sacred. So say its roots reach the veins of the land itself... that it drinks from old magic, older than the clans."
That made pause. "Older than the clans?"
"Yes." Marek’s tone dropped lower. "The elders say the willow marks where the last Phoenix fla once fell. When the world was still shifting after the war."
I blinked, suddenly alert. "The last Phoenix fla?"
He gave a cautious shrug. "Just... an old tale. No one knows for sure if it’s true. But travelers who rest under that tree often say they hear whispers in the wind. So even claim the lake glows faintly when the air’s still."
I stared at the tree again. Its long branches shimring faintly in the distance, their tips brushing the water’s surface.
It looked like any other tree... and yet, sohow, it gives goosebumps.
"Right," I said finally. "Definitely not... creepy at all."
Marek’s mouth moved, though he kept his voice even. "Would you like to accompany you closer, my lady?"
I shook my head, eyes still on the willow. "No. I think I’ll take a look at... myself."
The driver hesitated, glancing around the fog-laced water before bowing slightly. "But, my lady... forgive for saying this, but I don’t see any glimpse or hint of Lord Drake nearby." His tone grew careful, almost nervous. "Are you certain he asked to et you here?"
I blinked, my confidence wavering for half a second. "Uh—yes," I said, stretching the word a little too long. "He just... didn’t want anyone else to know, I think."
Marek’s brow furrowed, the kind of expression that said ’he’s too polite to call you out, but he definitely doesn’t believe you.’
"I see," he said finally. "Then, please, do be careful. The lake can be unpredictable."
"I’ll keep that in mind," I replied quickly, hoping my voice didn’t sound as guilty as I felt.
I turned toward the willow again, quickening my steps before he could start asking more questions. The grass dampened beneath my boots, and the mist curled thicker around my ankles.
Behind , Marek called out, "My lady! If anything happens, call imdiately!"
"Got it!" I said, waving a hand over my shoulder.
The truth was... I had no idea what I was expecting to find. Maybe a spark of recognition, a trace of the story’s original scene, or just... a sign that sothing from the novel still followed its script.
But as I drew closer to the willow, the air around shifted. The breeze faded, the sounds of birds and insects dimd, and the surface of the lake grew perfectly still.
I slowed down when I caught sight of sothing near the water. A figure.
A woman.
Her pale dress brushed the lake’s surface, the hem darkened from the damp. Her hair was the sa color as mine and almost the sa length too. She stood so still that for a second, I thought she might’ve been a statue.
Curious, I leaned forward slightly, trying to see her face but instead, I saw soone else. A man, standing under a smaller willow tree a bit to the left of the lake. He’d been looking at the woman... more like gazing at her.
I furrowed my brows. The man looked strangely familiar. "Wait..."
I squinted my eyes... even though yes, I was already wearing my glasses, just to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.
"Confirm!" I whispered under my breath, my heart jumping. "Auren Lysander!"
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