The villagers of Orogbum never spoke about the river after sunset. But Ada ignored warnings—until the night she heard her name whispered from the water.
It began softly. “Ada…”
She froze. No one was there.
The river shimmered under the moon, unusually calm. Then she saw it—a woman standing waist-deep in the water, smiling. Her eyes were hollow.
“Come closer,” the woman said.
Ada stepped back, heart racing. The figure didn’t move—yet the distance between them shrank. The smell of decay filled the air.
Suddenly, cold hands grabbed Ada’s ankle from beneath the ground. She screamed, falling as the river’s surface broke—revealing dozens of pale faces beneath.
“Stay with us,” they whispered.
Ada escaped, but her reflection never did. Even now, whenever she looks into water, it smiles before she does.