It wasn’t the kind of darkness that came from closing your eyes or the absence of moonlight.

  This was absolute.

  It was like the world had been erased, leaving behind only them.

  The lake was gone. The trees, the dock, the sky—gone.

  But they could still see each other.

  And they could still see him.

  A ghastly figure loomed before them, shifting like a shadow cast through the fog. His whole form glowed with an eerie green light, transparent in places where the darkness tried to swallow him. He was dressed like a fisherman from another era—a heavy, weathered coat draped over his broad shoulders, its once-sturdy fabric now torn and tattered at the edges.

  A wool beanie clung to his head, damp and threadbare, as if it had been pulled from the bottom of the lake. Beneath its brim, a pair of hollow, glowing eyes burned with an unnatural light, scanning the group like he was deciding who would live and who would join him beneath the water.

  His right hand clutched a rusted fishing lantern, swaying slightly despite the absence of wind. But his left hand was missing entirely.

  A massive, jagged iron hook gleamed in its place, covered in the same eerie green glow as his body. The metal was chipped, rusted, and wrong, looking more like something fused to his spirit rather than a tool he once wielded in life.

  When he spoke, his voice was low and ragged, like wind howling through cracked wood and rotting sails.

  “You have disturbed my rest.”

  The words echoed, though they had no space to bounce off.

  “And so, you must prove your worth.”

  The lantern in his grip flickered. The hook on his arm twitched.

  “Three riddles. Answer them, and you live. Fail… and you join the lake.”

  Mimsy made a soft, dying sound. “We’re all gonna die in a ghost quiz.”

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  Jory exhaled. “Alright, alright. Let’s hear ‘em.”

  The ghost raised a bony, spectral hand.

  The First Riddle

  His voice hummed through the void, eerie and slow.

  "I cast my net where the living fear,

  But catch no fish, only what they leave here.

  What do I gather?"

  The group fell silent.

  The tension thickened.

  Then Cooper grinned.

  “Souls.”

  The ghost narrowed his glowing eyes.

  Then—

  He nodded.

  “Correct.”

  A collective exhale rippled through the group.

  One down.

  The Second Riddle

  The ghost tilted his head, eyes flickering as he continued.

  "I wear the faces of those who peer,

  But my skin is cold, and I drown what’s dear.

  What am I?"

  A pause.

  The silence stretched longer this time.

  Jory rubbed his chin. “Uhh… sounds like a mask?”

  Sasha shook her head. “No, no… it’s gotta be something else.”

  Garrick gritted his teeth. “Damn it, it’s on the tip of my tongue!”

  Then, from the ground, Benny groaned, lifting his head.

  “The lake’s reflection.”

  Everyone turned to him.

  The ghost’s eyes flickered.

  “Correct.”

  Benny let his head flop back against the dirt. “My grandpa used to tell me that one.”

  Jory whistled. “Damn, Benny. Good timing.”

  Two riddles down.

  One left.

  The Final Riddle

  The ghost straightened, his presence darkening.

  “This last riddle has never been answered correctly. Not once.”

  Margo muttered. “That’s comforting.”

  The ghost’s voice rang through the void, heavy as the weight of the lake itself.

  "I’m the silent keeper of sunken lies,

  Where anchors rest, and light dies.

  Fishermen fear my endless keep,

  For in my arms, even ghosts sleep.

  What am I?"

  Silence.

  Longer this time.

  Cooper furrowed his brows. “Wait… what?”

  Jory scratched his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  Mimsy was visibly sweating. “We’re gonna die. We’re actually gonna die.”

  For the first time, no one had an answer.

  The ghost watched them, waiting.

  But then—

  Daisy.

  She stepped forward quickly, and her lips parted—

  "Davy Jones’ Locker."

  The void shuddered.

  The ghost’s flickering form froze.

  For a moment, nothing moved.

  Then, his lips curled into a twisted, knowing grin.

  “At last, a mind sharp enough to hold me…”

  And before anyone could react—

  He lunged.

  Everyone screamed as the ghost’s spectral form twisted into smoke and rushed into Daisy’s chest.

  The force knocked her backward, causing her to fall to her knees as she clutched her chest. Her breathing was ragged, her fingers digging into the dirt.

  “Daisy!” Hazel lunged forward, gripping her shoulders.

  “What did he do to her?!”

  The ghost’s voice whispered from nowhere and everywhere.

  “Finally.”

  Then—

  Everything snapped back to normal.

  The lake. The dock. The trees. The sky.

  They were back.

  Daisy sucked in a breath, wide-eyed.

  Sasha knelt beside her. “Are you okay?”

  The air felt normal again.

  Margo frowned. “What the hell was that?”

  Everyone was still catching their breath.

  Daisy swallowed hard. She blinked up at them. “I… I think I’m okay.”

  Hazel’s voice cut through the quiet.

  “No.” She shook her head, looking Daisy dead in the eyes.

  “You’re not okay. You’re Soulbound!”