Morning arrived softly with no rush. It unfolded like a quiet promise over the lake. Mist hovered just above the surface, drifting like pale silk as the first rays of sunlight slipped through the trees. The water lay still—too still—mirroring the sky with unsettling perfection. Nothing disturbed it. Nothing dared. Except her.
Zola stepped barefoot onto the damp grass, her toes sinking slightly into the cool earth. She held her dress loosely at her sides, letting it brush against her legs as she walked toward the lake.
She always came at this hour, before the world remembered her. Before loneliness settled in. Before the silence became… heavy. She paused at the water's edge. For a moment, she simply stared at her reflection.
The girl in the lake looked back at her—soft, pale, almost unreal in the early light. Her long red hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, catching hints of gold where the sun touched it. Her eyes—wide, searching—held something deeper than beauty. They held waiting. Zola tilted her head slightly. "Will today be different?" she asked softly. The reflection did not answer. It never did.
She stepped into the water. A quiet gasp escaped her lips as the cold embraced her skin, but she did not pull away. Instead, she moved forward slowly, letting the lake rise around her. Knees. Waist. Shoulders. Until she slipped beneath the surface. For a brief moment, the world vanished. No expectations. No exile. No voice echoing in her memory.
"Do not return." Her father's voice. Cold. Final. "Not until you find someone worthy to stand beside you." Zola opened her eyes underwater. The lake blurred her vision, turning everything into soft shapes and distant light. "You refuse every suitor. You reject your own kind. Then go. Live among humans." Her chest tightened. "And do not come back… unless you are no longer alone."
She broke the surface with a sharp breath. The memory faded, but its weight remained. It always did. Zola wiped water from her face and pushed her hair back. For a moment, she floated in silence, staring up at the sky. "I didn't reject them," she whispered. "I just… didn't feel anything." The wind moved gently across the lake, carrying no reply.
She swam slowly, letting her body glide through the water with practiced ease. This place—this quiet lake beside her small cottage—was the only place that felt like hers. The human world had never fully accepted her. And her own world had cast her out. So she existed somewhere in between. Unclaimed. Unchosen. Waiting.
After a while, she returned to the shore. Droplets of water traced down her skin as she stepped onto the grass, her dress clinging lightly before settling back into place. She wrung out the ends of her hair, then glanced toward the cottage. Smoke rose faintly from the chimney. She had left the fire burning. "Good," she murmured. "At least something waits for me."
The cottage was small, but not empty. Inside, it carried quiet signs of care—neatly arranged shelves, soft blankets folded by hand, a wooden table worn smooth with time. Zola stepped in and closed the door behind her. For a moment, she leaned against it. Listening. Nothing. No footsteps. No voices. No one calling her name. She exhaled slowly.
Her fingers traced along the edge of the table as she walked toward the window. Outside, the lake shimmered under the rising sun. And for just a second— She imagined it. A figure in the distance. A rider. A white horse breaking through the trees. Her heart skipped. She leaned forward slightly. But the path remained empty. As it always was. Zola smiled faintly. Not bitter. Not sad. Just… used to it. "One day," she whispered.
She moved through her morning slowly. Lighting the fire. Preparing simple food. Straightening things that did not need straightening. Filling time. It was a quiet life. But quiet did not mean peaceful. Not always.
By midday, the sun stood high, and the forest surrounding the lake hummed with distant life. Birds called to one another. Leaves rustled softly. Zola sat near the doorway, her chin resting lightly on her hand. Her gaze drifted. Again and again… to the same place. The path. The one leading through the trees. The one she watched every day. The one she believed, No, hoped, Would one day bring someone to her.
"Why a white horse?" she asked aloud, a small smile touching her lips. It had always been that way in her dreams. A man, strong, quiet, arriving not with noise or pride… but presence. Someone who didn't need to prove anything. Someone who simply… was. Zola closed her eyes briefly. "I wonder if you're real."
The wind shifted. Just slightly. Her eyes opened. Something had changed. She couldn't explain it. The forest felt… different. Still quiet. But not empty. Zola sat up straighter. Her gaze fixed on the path. Nothing moved. No figure appeared. And yet— Her heart began to beat faster. "Someone's coming…" she whispered.
Far beyond the trees… A white horse walked slowly along a worn road. Its rider leaned forward, barely holding on. Blood had dried across his armor. His eyes—half-open—fought to stay awake. Rami did not know where he was going. Only that he had not stopped. Could not stop. The world blurred around him. Shapes. Light. Shadows. Then— Water. He saw it in the distance. A lake. And beside it… A small cottage. Hope flickered. Weak. Fading. But still there.
Zola stood. Her breath caught. This time, It wasn't imagination. A figure. Distant. Unsteady. But real. Her heart pounded. "He came…" she whispered, barely able to believe it. The white horse stepped closer. Step by step. Slow and heavy. Until, The rider slipped. And fell. Zola didn't think. She ran...