"An Unexpected Reward" by Chelsa L. Dagley

      The cold light of the moon fought down through the canopy of branches, small specks landing softly on the surface of the hidden lake. A presence was there, in the trees, waiting. He had traveled for many decades to find this very spot, at this very moment. A secret lay hidden beneath this water, one that he would find, he knew. Only one obstacle remained, one that caused him worry, for not a person out of the thousands had been able to tell him of it. Even those who had come here before him and failed had not been able to remember the very thing that would be his last trial before retrieving the secret.

     He scanned the dark trees, their ominous limbs stretching over the still water in an eternal plea of thirst. The silver water did not move, ripple, or give the slightest hint that anything resided beneath its glassy surface. There was one spot, in the very middle, where the branches did not reach. Here, the moon shone its iridescent light fully onto the water.

     A movement caught his eye, and when he looked around, spotted nothing, and looked back, an eerie sight awaited him. The tips of slender feet just barely touched the water, sending tiny ripples out to greet the shore as she walked out; paying no mind to the laws of gravity. Her frail body, skin as silver as the water she walked upon and limbs inhumanly slim, seemed to float across the lake. Long, white hair drifted airily about her shoulders, as if she was under the water, instead of walking atop it.

     He watched her movements greedily, her silky clothing billowing around her in a nonexistent wind. She began to spin, her body twisting into a mesmerizing dance. Without warning, her eyes fell upon him, and he was drawn into her cold, dispassionate eyes. He was falling, but landed softly on his feet in a small, dank shack he very much remembered.

     A white mist had descended upon everything, and as he looked upon himself talking to the old, wrinkled shaman, he realized that this was just a memory.

     The shaman suddenly turned to him, and said something very different to what he had said before.

     “She will steal your mind, your heart, and your immortality before you even have a chance to lay just a finger beneath the water of that enchanted lake.”

     His past self did not seem to notice that the shaman was talking to his present self, and continued his questioning. The shaman ignored him, and lifted a crooked finger, “I will give you this one hint: her only adversary is night's worst enemy, but fears water above all else.”

     He gasped, and even as he felt the memory being sapped from his mind, whispered his thanks.

     He opened his eyes, leaping backward as he saw large, colorless eyes not two inches from his own. Her long, skeletal fingers had almost touched his arm, but he pulled away just in time.

     Fumbling in a pocket, he pulled out a match and watched her thin lips turn up in an unearthly smile, as if sensing where his thoughts lay.

     Just as he struck the match alight, the woman reeled back, her feet not touching the ground, and her stick-like arms covering her eyes. She flicked her hand toward the water, and a large wave lifted at her command, drenching him and extinguishing the small flame.

     A ghostly scream began then, emitting from the woman's throat. Its high pitched level made the man cover his ears even as he smiled, for the match had just been a diversion.

     Twelve decades of searching for this secret had not been wasted, for in that time he had learned many tricks, including that of summoning fire at will and at a distance.

     The thin web-like fabric of the ghost woman's dress was in flames, and her sorrow was felt deep within the man's bones as her body was engulfed.

     The screams stopped, and the fire disappeared, leaving only a spot where the moonlight seemed to have gathered into a swirling ball of mist invisible to the normal human eye, but there nonetheless.

     Heaving a sigh, the man dived into the glassy water. He held his breath and opened his eyes, always swimming deeper into the murky lake. All around him there was nothing, and he felt that he had lept into a portal of some kind. The dusty gray surrounded all sides of him, pressing into him, pulling at him, until eventually he thought that he would fall apart.

     But then he found it; a hole leading into an impenetrable blackness. He dived in, gasping for breath as he fell out of the water. Landing with a thud, he looked up. The water hung suspended in midair, as if the world had been turned upside down.

     Looking around, the man took in the scene. A giant cavern, jagged crystals all the colors of the world and more jutted out of its walls, illuminating a path.

     He walked forward, spotting a great mass. Something that sparkled and reflected the multicolered light off of its surface in a dazzling display.

     As he came closer, something parted from the mound; a small head with a long, graceful neck. Brilliant, transparant wings lifted from the creature's body. A tail uncoiled as it arose, exposing four lean legs, silvered talons digging into the rocky floor. The dragon blinked at him with shimmering violet eyes, neither shocked nor scared, just accepting.

     It opened its expansive mouth, showing rows of jagged teeth. “Congratulations.” As it spoke, its lips did not move, merely opening its mouth as a voice came forth.

     “You have proven yourself worthy to be the first to die in the saving of your world.” And with those powerful words the serpent consumed the man, his death quicker and less painful than anyone could ever hope for.