The Lake of Dusk at Dawn

There were rings, and there were speckles; when a breeze came through there were also waves that changed the way the light hit the water, racing through the green and flicking it to blue almost like a set of collapsing dominoes. When the wind couldn’t decide which way to blow, the light danced across the surface of the lake like a million tiny fish scattering. Around the water rose the edges of its limestone bed, a thin strip of sloping rock bordered on the outside by short grasses as green as emerald — with a golden glow. The forest began not far from there, filled with rust-colored tree trunks and foliage of green, red, blue, pink, every color imaginable, each dyed a little more orange by the light of the eternally setting sun. Only the water of the lake maintained its own colors, if you could call them such; for this lake did not reflect the world that existed above its surface.

Nothing lived near the lake. Its magic was such that, though deer and many small animals roamed the forest, some instinct kept them away from the water’s edge. However lost, none would approach it; however thirsty, none would drink from it. The grass remained untread upon.

The forest’s name was Tashgard. The lake was called the Lake of Dusk at Dawn, and it was a legend known only to the Yuyak, who guarded it from within Tashgard, and the Peesh, who once guarded it from their own world.

But therein was the problem: the Peesh were gone, and a creature known as man, ever ambitious, crept closer and closer toward his discovery of this lake that, no matter what time of day, reflected only the fiery orange glow of sunset upon its waters.


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