He didn't jump. He simply leaned forward until the center of gravity gave way.
The splash was heavy and final. The lantern flickered out as it hit the surface, and for a moment, the silver fog swirled into the vacuum Elias left behind. Then, the lake smoothed itself over, polished and black, hiding its secrets once again beneath the dark waters. Dark Waters
Elias leaned over the gunwale, his heart hammering. "Thomas?" he whispered. The humming stopped. He didn't jump
Elias looked back at the shore, where the lights of the town flickered like dying embers. He thought of the heavy air, the aching joints, and the grief he’d carried for half a century. Then he looked at the cool, inviting void below. The lantern flickered out as it hit the
Deep below, a pale shape drifted. It wasn't a fish or a sunken log. It was a hand—long, translucent fingers splayed against the dark. And then another. Dozens of them, waving slowly like pale anemones in a current that shouldn't exist.
The water began to rise. Not a wave, but a slow, bulging swell right beneath the boat. From the blackness, a face emerged. It was Thomas, or at least the memory of him, preserved in the cold, lightless pressure of the deep. His eyes were wide, glowing with a soft, bioluminescent amber, and his hair drifted around his head like smoke. He didn't look drowned. He looked... transformed.