They say the Reflection Pool only appears to the lost, though no one really knows what that means. It isn’t on maps, not even the old ones with forgotten trails and names that no one speaks anymore. It’s the kind of place you hear about in stories that seem too quiet to carry any real weight—until they find you.

Marin hadn’t been looking for it. She’d been running. The storm had crept in without a warning—thick and sudden, the kind of summer rain that makes the air feel alive. She couldn’t say when the path vanished or how long she had been walking. Hours, maybe. Long enough for the trees to blur into one endless wall of green.

When Marin stumbled into the clearing, she didn’t think of those stories. She thought of the storm behind her, the trail she couldn’t find and the ache in her legs.

The clearing was small and perfect, as if the forest had split open just enough to let something settle there. Marin stopped at the edge with her chest heaving, hands still clutching the straps of her pack. The air here was… different. Cooler. Almost sweet, like the smell before snowfall. And there, in the center, was the pool.

It was small and ringed with moss that looked soft enough to sleep on.

Marin let her arms drop to her sides. The water in the pool sat still, so still it was almost wrong. There were no ripples, no breeze stirring it. It reflected the clearing perfectly—every branch, every leaf—and yet, it didn’t. Marin moved closer, just enough to see the sky reflected back.

Except it wasn’t this sky.

When Marin looked closer, the sky in the pool didn’t match the sky above. Where there should have been clouds, there were stars. Thousands of them, spilling across the surface like someone had broken a jar of light. She moved closer without meaning to, boots sinking into the moss. “Just a trick,” she said, though it didn’t sound right. Her voice felt swallowed, muffled by the stillness around her.

Marin knelt without thinking, her palms sinking into the damp earth as she stared into the water. The pool smelled faintly of metal, like rainwater left in a tin pail. She looked at her reflection, expecting something to be off. It always was with water like this—too deep, too smooth.

Her face stared back. The same wide eyes, the same strands of hair stuck to her damp forehead. She leaned closer, just enough for her breath to fog the water’s surface.

The reflection blinked.

She flinched, nearly falling back, the heels of her boots slipping on the soft earth. Her heart banged in her chest, too quick, too loud.

“That’s not—” Her voice broke the silence, small and fragile in a place like this.

She looked again. The reflection smiled.

It was small—barely there—but she felt it like a hand closing around her wrist. Marin’s throat felt dry. Then the whisper came.

“Come and see.”

She thought of standing up, walking away, pretending none of this had happened. But she didn’t. Her hand slowly reached out instead. The water wasn’t cold when she touched it. It wasn’t warm either. Just… nothing.

And then the world fell away.

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