The lake came into view as we stepped through the last of the tree line. A vast, mirror-still body of dark water stretched ahead of us, framed by jagged cliffs on the far side and a ring of dense, thorny undergrowth. The Southern Fruit tree we’d been searching for stood proud and alone by the edge, its silvery bark gleaming faintly in the morning light. Bright crimson fruits hung from its branches like dripping rubies.
Norma and Anita gasped simultaneously.
“Those are it?” Anita asked.
“Southern Fruit,” I confirmed. “Supposedly they only grow in mana-heavy zones.”
“Well,” Norma said, lips pursed. “We’ve come this far. Now what, my lady? Swim for it? Or—”
A low, guttural growl echoed across the lake before she could finish.
Everyone froze.
The water rippled. Something—several somethi
