The lake.

In books, the lake is always where the protagonist goes to put his mind at rest. It is a body of water which holds memories of love and happiness. A cherised place... Somewhere one could go when in a moment of doubt.

For a young warlock, the lake is a different thing completely. He first visited the lake years back, when his master was under an enchantment by the dreadful Sidhe, a type of faery people who live under the Gates of Avalon. That day was when he had first noticed the beautiful depths of the water and how innocent it seemed. It was also the time that he'd noticed the lake was not all it seemed. It was a place of murder and beheld many wonders, hidden in the pits of the water.

He hadn't expected to visit it again, not with having destroyed an evil Sidhe-woman with the name Sophia in that place, obliterating her soul. He had been heartless before and he had never wanted to visit the lake again. Especially as it held such bitter memories, dark secrets kept close to his heart. He had known the lake was the perfect place to hide something of valour and sorcery; the sword, Excalibur. So, dreading the visit, the young boy had thrown the heavy object and aimed it into the water, where it sank to the bottom, hopefully never to be seen again.

But then… She had turned up, a beautiful sorceress, a young girl from the Druids, her name Freya. She had been lost, alone in the world and he had felt a connection. Instinctively, he had rescued the girl and had taken her to the caves, though he had scared her. The warlock let out a low chuckle, full of slight humour but mostly despair. He missed her… He missed her so much.

She didn't have to die. She was a beast, of course she was, but that didn't mean she had to die because of others fright and anger and hatred. The warlock wiped a tear off his cheek. No-one ever deserved to die, especially not her. She was the first girl he had ever loved and he was determined she would be the last. Heartbreak had already happened to him more times than necessary; he couldn't go through it again.

He himself was young, with a good few more years before he reached adulthood. He was so new to the world but already he had seen too much, far more than the normal adult has seen. He was devastated for his death, which led him to this path. Every year, he had decided to honour his love's death. So, every year, he travelled to the lake of death and despair.

This year, he had brought a gift. A candle, one that he had enchanted to never go out, in memory of their first time together and their first kiss. He thought it was a good gift. A slight hesitation went up in his throat as he tried to cast the spell, the same one he had used on Freya when he had set fire to her… corpse. He choked it down and felt the tears come to his eyes.

Still, he had a job to do.

Letting the tears run, he cast the spell and placed the candle in the middle of a bowl, a magical one. It hurt his spirit and the warlock could feel his heart slowly breaking, engraving the pain permenantly onto his soul. He tried his hardest not to spill the flame and gently placed it on the lake with a slight sigh. In the air, he parted the clouds and drew an image of a young girl and a broken heart. He knew it would fade soon…

It was the same every year.