The lake grew quiet again.
The last brightness had already faded from the sky, leaving only darkness and a faint haze that lingered above the far hillside like breath that had not fully disappeared. On the water, the reflections were gone. What remained was the simple black surface of the lake, smooth and unreadable under the stars.
Willow leaned against the railing of the yacht with her elbows resting on the smooth wood. She watched the reflections tremble across the water as each fading spark scattered briefly over the surface before dissolving into blackness again.
The air had cooled enough that she felt it along her arms.
A breeze moved quietly across the open lake, carrying the faint scent of stone and pine. Somewhere along the distant shoreline kitchens were still awake, and the air held the subtle warmth of food drifting out from unseen windows.
