Crunch.
Violette shuddered. She glanced down – just a wooden stick. Though, Dante didn't even bat an eye, continuing deeper in the forest. Their footsteps again became the only sound around. A few more minutes of unchanged landscape and finally, a view of the lake opened up in front of them. And if the forest was frightening and unwelcoming, this place appeared even more inimical.
Chapter 16
THERE IS NO LIGHT WITHOUT DARKNESS
The bleak view of the lake was evoking anxiety, tugging on the string of Violette’s soul. Its water seemed to be completely black, even impermeable to the light of the moon, rising in the sky. The only light, warm and friendly, radiated from the middle of the lake. Muffled, but it was there. It shined deep in the water, like undying faith, a glimpse of hope in the endless darkness, the last remnants of it.
Oh…Violette’s heart sank, she suddenly understood why it was called this way – the Lake ofHope. The forest and the lake was a murk, a desperation, a wounded heart, and this light – the last sign of hope, deep down hidden under all of the darkness and obscurity. Like a wretched soul who still believes in the happy ending. Violette held her breath. Suddenly this place seemed beautiful to her, she felt a thread in her heart connected to this glow. She knew how it is…to hold for the last faith in your heart when everything seems hopeless.
“Let's go,” Dante called out, going down to the lake.
Violette finally took her eyes off the luminescence and followed the vampire. The ground underfoot felt loose and wet, more like sand. She slipped, her right foot pulled her a little forward before finding her balance. Dante at that time was already waiting for her below by a large sharp rock.
The last step she totally missed, which led her to bump into his back. He turned half of his body to her as she drew an awkward stepback.
“Sorry,” Violette mumbled under her breath. She'd never been so clumsy as for the last days, it's like fate wanted to embarrass her in Dante's eyes. She knew how to keep cool but it wasn't an easy task in his presence and she could only keep guessing why.
“The thing we need is definitely at the bottom of the lake,” Dante stated, his arms crossed on his chest.
Violette darted her gaze to the dimming glow in the middle of the blackness.
“And what next? Dive into the lake?” she asked incredulously.
Dante sat down and touched the water's surface. The sound echoed in the air, the water seemed to tremble from this innocent and light movement. Then he stood up and began to unbutton his shirt.
She was taken by surprise. “Are you really going to dive there?”
“Do you have any better suggestions?”
Violette inclined her head looking at the black liquid. “It's just…You think nothing lives there?”
“If I see anything – I'll say hello from you,” he sneered, proceeding to take off his boots.
Violette was a little taken aback. Most likely, just as Dante hadn't really felt the cold, he also hadn't felt the cold water, but that didn’t change the fact that she wouldn't have gone into the water even if she hadn't felt anything at all. The lake looked incredibly deep as if the bottom wascompletely out of reach. Only the middle of it was emitting a dim light, the rest – complete darkness. Who even knows what could be down there…
She again shot her gaze from the lake to the vampire and she herself didn't notice how quickly blood rushed to her cheeks.
Dante had just thrown his shirt onto the nearest stone, standing with a fully exposed torso. Violette's eyes fleetingly glanced at the sculpted muscles on his chest, and just as quickly slipped away to the lake.
She, of course, noticed his broad shoulders before; he himself was big and tall. However, seeing him without a shirt still somewhat made her shy. Her traitorous cheeks started to burn. Her immediate decision was to distract herself with some other thoughts to not get her attention back to Dante, and most importantly, so that he didn't notice her embarrassment. It would only amuse him. Maybe she should imagine the old dealer of antique robes and hats from the Alley of Deadly Flowers and Cursed Stories? He was an old, bony man with a long gray beard who always wiped his endless snot on his sleeve. Just the thought of him was enough to kill any infatuation, as well as appetite and, in general, the desire to shake someone's hand.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the swaying of the water – Dante was already entering the lake. Not a single muscle on his body flinched. Her eyes followed him until he dived and his head disappeared into the depths of the Lake of Hope.
Violette stood on the shore, cowering at the thought of the cold water in front of her, both her hands wrapped around her.
Dante had been gone for several minutes, she almost found herself worrying about him. And the silence around was only infusing more nervousness in her soul.
Clouds covered the night sky, slowly stealing the colors around. Only the golden glow from the lake gave this place at least some colors of life. Violette felt like the only living creature among the trees, everything else seemed dead and had died hundreds years ago. She looked heavenward just before the water surface swayed again.
She squinted, peering into the middle of the lake until the inky hair appeared from the water.
Dante walked out of the lake, water dripping from his face onto his muscular chest as he wiped his chin. His wet hair carelessly fell over his forehead and for the first time Violette noticed that it was intricately curled. Her eyes couldn't tear themselves away from his figure. An image of the old snotty dealer surfaced in her mind and she forced her gaze to drop to Dante's hand – no hint that he'd gotten anything from the bottom of the lake. Violette's heels kept clicking in place, either from the cold or impatience.
“Did you find something?” she asked loudly, an unexpected echo rang out over the lake. Her eyes raised to the sky before lowering them to the vampire again.
“I can't take what is there,” he said, displeased, before reaching the shore. His hand ran over his wet hair, a water drop beading between his brows.
