Beneath The Lake

Aster found it by dropping a spoon. The spoon struck tile, then continued falling for several seconds.

They opened the trapdoor together: Claire, Mara, Rowan, Elise, and Aster. No one entered alone. That was the first rule of the new archive.

Below, the air smelled of wet stone and old smoke. Names had been carved into the walls, some crossed out, some repeated until the letters became grooves.

At the tunnel’s end stood Nora’s worktable. Her handwriting covered the surface in cramped columns: names, dates, promises, betrayals.

One sentence had been underlined until the wood split.

A witness is not evidence until someone with power decides to listen.

Mara found a second sentence beneath it.

A witness remains a person whether anyone listens or not.

The lake pressed against the far wall.

Then something knocked from the other side.