There was no reply.
And after what felt like forever, I finally moved again. Slowly, I climbed the wall, careful not to make a sound. When I reached the top, I peered over the edge. Nothing. No one was there. So I jumped down and sprinted into the trees.
The forest became a dark labyrinth of towering oaks and beeches, their twisted branches grabbing at me as I ran.
“Kera!” I called desperately, my voice echoing off the ancient trunks. “KERA!”
Still, no answer. I forced myself to run faster, my feet pounding against the forest floor. Fear wrapped its cold fingers around my throat, but I pushed it down. I had to get back to the glade, back to safety, back to my parents. Branches kept whipping at my skin, snagging my dress, and tearing strands of hair from my carefully pinned updo. The forest felt endless, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I ran until, finally, I burst from the trees and into the glade.
The midsummer celebration was still in full swing, laughter and music filling the air. My parents sat by the fire, their faces shifting from relaxed smiles to concern as soon as they saw me. I ran straight into my mother’s arms, collapsing against her chest, shaking with sobs. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to speak, words tumbling out between desperate gasps for breath.
“Licia, what happened? Where have you been?” My mother took my face gently between her hands, scanning me. I knew how I must have looked.
My dress was filthy and torn, my hat missing, and my hair disheveled.
“Kera is gone! I can't find her,” I cried.
“Kera?” my mother echoed.
“Edengård,” I said, trying to steady my shaking voice enough to make myself heard. “We were just playing by the mill house and—”
“The mill house?” my mother interrupted. “I’ve told you not to go there!”
“I'm sorry,”
“You left your friend there?” her tone grew sharp, accusing.
“No!” I blurted, desperate to explain. “She didn’t want to go in, so I went alone. Then she said someone was coming—someone she didn’t recognize. And she got scared and ran, and I—I tried to find her but I couldn’t.”
My words spilled out frantically, trying to make sense of what happened.
“Who was coming?” my father asked.
I let out a broken sob. “Strangers.”
Panic and chaos erupted in the wake of the news. Kera’s parents, frantic with desperation, ran in every direction, calling her name into the darkness. I saw the terror etched deeply on their faces and longed to help, but a heavy dread settled in my stomach. I knew they wouldn’t find her. I didn't know who or why, but someone hadtakenKera. She wouldn't have abandoned me by the mill house, not alone, and certainly not in the middle of the night. Guilt kept pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe as Kera’s mother approached me with eyes pleading for answers. I told her what happened, and every word brought fresh waves of fear and helplessness. My father argued with Kera’s parents, accusing them of not watching their daughter closely enough.
I winced at his harsh words, knowing how unfair they were. It wasn’t their fault — it was mine.Ihad convinced Kera to come with me, and yet she was the one suffering the consequences, not me. Tears spilled down my cheeks despite my efforts to stay calm.
“It’s all my fault,” I cried out.
Kera’s mother placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me with lies. “We’ll find her, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
But I heard the tremor in her voice, the pain she couldn't conceal. The fear of never seeing her daughter again.
The gentle light of dawn filtered through the treetops as I led the search party into the woods, accompanied by my parents and Kera’sfamily, constables and anyone else who wanted to help. We followed the narrow trail, until we reached the clearing by the mill house. Birds chirped happily in the trees, a sound that normally brought comfort but now felt cruelly out of place. Their cheerful songs felt like mockery, leaving me to wonder if anything would ever feel normal again. Kera’s mother was nervously twirling her necklace pendant between her fingers, whispering words I didn’t understand.
Our feet sank slightly into the soft ground as we moved past the house, towards the lake. At the edge of the shimmering water, Kera’s mother’s breath caught sharply, her hand trembling as she pointed to something lying by the reeds. My pulse quickened as I drew closer, dread curdling in my stomach when I saw what it was—a lone shoe. Kera’s mother picked it up and pressed it to her chest.
“Kera knows how to swim,” she insisted, though her voice barely carried. “She knows how to swim.”
Kera’s father didn’t respond, already scouring the murky water and frantically combing through the reeds, screaming her name.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, I fought to keep my heavy eyes open.
Kera’s brother, Einar, had finally given in to exhaustion, asleep against his mother by the stone wall. Her head was bowed in silent prayer. I wasn’t sure I believed praying would do any good, but part of me hoped it might. Maybe, somewhere, there were gods listening, watching over us after all. Even in sleep, worry lined Einar’s face, as if he were trapped in a nightmare. I wondered if he was dreaming of his sister, if he could hear her crying out, begging for help. Earlier, I’d heard him promise his mother that he’d never leave Kera’s side again, once she came back.
They were still holding on to hope, but I struggled to do the same. Most of the people who joined the search had gone home by then, my parents had only stayed because I refused to leave. I couldn’t give up when she still needed me. Neededus. But I think they had already decided what had happened. The lake was the only explanation thatmade sense to them. Kera’s father refused to believe she’d drowned, but he still waded through the water with two other men, back and forth, over and over again.
