If there is any blessing to the numbness, it’s that I don’t feel pain when my foot slips. When I slide down the trail, rocks tearing against my clothes and skin, I only feel relief.
Because at the end of the trail, rushing toward me, stretches the endless blue of Lake Lasem.
Sinking into the lake isn’t much different than falling into a dream.
The numbness conquers the last inch of sensation left in my body. My lungs exhale the remaining tendrils of air inside them and ice over.
The water closes over my head. The lake’s gentle fingers drag my cold body down, down, down.
In the dark, hundreds of small bodies take shape. The sad girl with her sandwich. The boy from Jesse’s room.
They sink with me, countless bodies rippling beneath the surface of Lake Lasem. Children stolen from the tide of life, leaving broken hearts stranded on shore. This creature—this monster’s greatest evil comes from the gouges it leaves in the tapestry of time. Lives it unravels, legacies it unbuilds. It ensures the survival of a few at the cost of many.
They make us mortal so they can be everlasting.
My hair billows around my face. I think about Jesse. If he’ll stay in Ward to help his dad after graduation. If he’ll spend more years hammering at his porch, keeping his deteriorating house together out of determination and pure spite. If he’ll leave Ward and never look back.
The children swarm me. Soft hands press against my cheeks, clutch my arms and ankles.
At the bottom of the lake, a light appears.
Bright and golden, it pierces through the darkness. The children cling to me. We barrel toward the light like shooting stars.
It engulfs us, and the world turns white.
I flail, burning, when a firm hand grasps mine.
The touch scorches, but I hold on tight. The lake churns, launching us forward.
The grip on my hand tightens and pulls.
I gasp as my head breaks through the water. The sun beats down from its perch in the clear blue sky. Warmth chases back the chill on my skin, and I gaze out at the unmistakable coastline of Alexandria. Laughter drifts over from the shore, where families lounge beneath leaning umbrellas, plates of food balanced on their knees. Children chase each other on the edge of the beach, tossing balls of wet sand and ignoring their mothers’ shrieks.
I blink at the figure leaning over me, blotting out the sun. Slowly, their features slide into place.
My eyes. My mouth. My freckles.
My face.
“The food is getting cold. Amu Amir ate the last piece of macarona bechamel,” the other Mina says. “It’s time to get out of the water.”
The children rise behind me, cheeks flushed, smiling. Alive.
She doesn’t let go of my hand, and together, we walk to shore.
