The water grew colder the farther Kael waded in.
Not enough to numb his legs, but enough to register—enough to remind him that this place was aware of him. The surface stayed smooth even as his boots disturbed it, ripples flattening too quickly, as if the lake refused to remember his presence for long.
He moved slowly.
Every step here mattered.
Pressure gathered beneath the water, not crushing, not violent—selective. It pressed upward in narrow bands, testing balance, testing patience. Kael adjusted instinctively, letting flow anchor him instead of pushing back.
So this is how you judge.
Halfway across, he saw it.
Something dark beneath the surface, elongated and still.
Kael stopped.
He didn't reach for silence. He didn't compress flow. He simply waited until the water clarified around the shape, letting light and pressure reveal it naturally.
A body.
Human.
The remains lay face-down, armor cracked, one arm twisted unnaturally beneath the torso. No weapon in hand. No visible crest—scraped away deliberately or lost to time.
Kael crouched slowly, careful not to disturb the water more than necessary. He reached out and turned the body just enough to see the face.
Young.
Too young.
The eyes were open, glassy, fixed on nothing.
Kael straightened.
So others made it this far.
He scanned the surrounding water and saw more shapes—some deeper, some barely submerged. Not clustered. Spread out, like people who had reached different limits before failing.
None of them were torn apart.
None showed signs of battle.
They hadn't died fighting.
They'd died trying to proceed.
Kael exhaled slowly.
"So this is where you stop most of them."
The pressure around him didn't react.
It didn't deny it either.
He moved again, slower now, mapping the currents beneath the surface. Each body marked a mistake—someone who pushed when they should've paused, forced movement when patience was required.
He adjusted his path accordingly.
Twice, pressure surged suddenly, sharp and decisive. Both times Kael yielded immediately, stepping back instead of forward, letting the surge pass before continuing.
The water never rose above his waist.
By the time he reached the far side, his legs burned—not from cold, but from constant correction.
He climbed out onto solid ground and stood there for a long moment, dripping water back into the lake.
Behind him, the surface was already still again.
The bodies remained.
Unmoved.
Unacknowledged.
Kael didn't look back.
The path ahead narrowed into a stone corridor formed by collapsed terrain, pressure thickening the deeper he went. The pull was unmistakable now—steady, insistent, no longer testing whether he would turn back.
Now it was testing how he moved forward.
Kael rolled his shoulders and stepped into the corridor.
No hesitation.
No announcement.
Just forward.
The journey was claiming its toll.
And Kael was still walking.