El Duende del Agua de Bohemia

The Depths of the Mire

The village of Hluboká nad Vltavou had always been wary of the Hollow Lake.

Surrounded by gnarled willows and thick marsh reeds, the water was deep and black, reflecting the sky like a bottomless mirror. Fishermen avoided it, their nets always coming back empty, and children were warned never to play near the shore.

"The Vodník watches," the elders would say. "He waits for a careless soul to wander too close."

They spoke of strange sounds at night—the laughter of a man that was not quite human, the distant echoes of a song sung from beneath the water. They spoke of vanishing livestock, of boats found drifting without their owners, of villagers who had walked toward the lake and never returned.

Few dared to test the tales.

And those who did… never spoke of what they had seen.

The Silent Witnesses

In hushed tones around flickering fires, the few who had ventured near the lake shared fragmented accounts. Some described fleeting shadows moving against the current, eyes gleaming beneath the surface before vanishing into darkness. Others mentioned an inexplicable chill that settled over them, as if the very air near the lake was alive with unseen presence.

One night, under a veil of heavy fog, a group of brave—or perhaps foolish—youths decided to uncover the truth. Armed with lanterns and hearts pounding with a mix of fear and excitement, they approached the water's edge. As they neared, the temperature dropped noticeably, their breaths visible in the dim light.

Suddenly, a melody unlike any earthly tune floated through the air, sweet and melancholic. Entranced, one by one, they felt an irresistible pull towards the water. Despite their protests and struggles, the lake seemed to claim them silently, leaving behind only ripples and unanswered questions.

From that night on, the legend grew, thickening the air of mystery that cloaked Hollow Lake.

The Miller’s Daughter

Lenka, the daughter of the village miller, was a girl with a restless heart.

Unlike the others, she did not fear the Hollow Lake. If anything, she felt drawn to it, fascinated by its eerie beauty. Whenever she came to wash clothes by the shore, she would pause to watch the rippling surface, wondering what lay beneath.

One evening, as the sun bled into the horizon, she wandered too close. The reeds swayed around her, the wind carrying a low, melodic whisper—almost like a voice calling her name.

She shivered and turned to leave, but then—

A movement in the water.

Something lurking just beneath the surface.

Her heart pounded as she peered closer, her breath catching in her throat. And there, in the deepening twilight, she saw eyes—two luminous, emerald eyes staring up at her.

Lenka stumbled back, her basket of linens tumbling to the damp earth.

And then, a voice—rich, smooth, and strange—slid through the air.

*"Do not be afraid, fair one."*

The water rippled. A shape emerged, pale as the mist.

And for the first time in centuries, the Water Goblin of Hollow Lake met the gaze of a mortal girl.

A Bargain with the Deep

Lenka should have run.

She should have turned and never looked back.

But something in the Vodník’s voice held her still.

He was nothing like the grotesque monster described in the village tales. His skin was pale as river-stone, his hair dark and heavy with water, and though his hands were webbed, they were elegant, not monstrous. His eyes, glowing a deep, unnatural green, seemed filled with sorrow.

*"I have watched you for many moons,"* he murmured, his voice carrying through the reeds. *"You are not like the others. You do not fear me."*

Lenka’s pulse pounded in her ears. Fear? Yes. But there was something else, too.

Curiosity.

*"What are you?"* she whispered.

A slow, sad smile crossed his lips.

*"A prisoner of the waters. A keeper of lost souls. But once, long ago, I was something more."*

She did not know why, but she believed him.

She returned to the lake the next evening. And the next.

And as the nights passed, she began to listen.

Whispers of the Past

Under the cloak of night, Lenka sat beside the water’s edge, the moon casting a silver path across the lake. The Vodník shared tales of a bygone era, of kingdoms that thrived along the riverbanks and of his own lineage that once ruled with wisdom and benevolence.

He spoke of a tragic love story, where betrayal led to his eternal bond with the lake. "She was the one who sought to bind me to these waters," he confessed, his eyes distant. "In her desperation, she cast a curse that severed my ties to the world above."

Lenka listened, enthralled by the depth of his sorrow and the weight of his memories. She began to understand that the Vodník was not merely a creature of folklore, but a soul yearning for release.

As the nights grew colder and the mists thicker, Lenka’s visits became more frequent. Each meeting deepened their connection, bridging the gap between mortal and immortal, human and spirit.

Love Beneath the Waters

The Vodník told her stories.

Stories of a time before his curse, when he had been a man—proud and noble, a prince of the rivers. But the water had claimed him, and now he was bound to the lake, unable to step upon dry land, doomed to linger in the depths until love set him free.

*"No soul has ever loved me,"* he confessed one night, his voice barely a whisper.

And against all reason, Lenka’s heart ached for him.

Night after night, she sat with him by the water’s edge. They spoke of life, of dreams, of loneliness.

And somewhere between the reeds and the whispers of the lake… she began to fall in love.

One moonlit night, as the air shimmered with silver mist, Vodník reached for her hand.

*"Stay with me, Lenka."* His voice was soft, pleading. *"Be my bride. In the water, you will never grow old. Never know sorrow again."*

Her breath caught.

For a heartbeat, she almost said yes.

But then she thought of her father, waiting for her at home. She thought of the warm sun, the scent of fresh bread, the laughter of her village.

And she knew she could not stay.

*"I cannot,"* she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. *"I belong above."*

The Vodník’s expression darkened.

*"No, Lenka. You belong with me."*

Then, in a heartbeat—he pulled her into the water.

The Drowning of a Soul

The lake swallowed her.

Lenka thrashed, her lungs burning as the cold water wrapped around her. She tried to scream, but the sound was lost in the depths.

*"Do not fight,"* Vodník’s voice surrounded her, smooth as the current.

Darkness closed in. The surface became a distant blur, slipping further and further away.

And then—

A rush of silence.

She was no longer struggling. She was no longer breathing.

She was sinking.

And the Vodník was smiling.

Transformation in the Abyss

As Lenka descended into the depths, a strange calm enveloped her. The water around her shimmered with an ethereal light, revealing the submerged remnants of a once-grand palace adorned with mosaics and statues now cloaked in algae and shadow.

She felt a change within herself, a melding of her essence with the watery realm. Her fears transformed into acceptance, her humanity intertwining with the mystic forces of the lake.

The Vodník guided her through the underwater halls, showing her the delicate porcelain cups where the souls of the lost resided. Each cup contained a flickering light, a testament to a life once vibrant and now eternally captured.

*"This is our world now,"* he explained. *"A sanctuary and a prison."*

Lenka realized that her choice had bound her fate alongside the Vodník’s, her spirit now part of the lake’s eternal lament.

The Curse of the Water Goblin

When Lenka awoke, she was no longer human.

Her skin was pale as the moonlit water. Her breath came not from her lips, but from the whispers of the lake itself.

She was Vodník’s bride.

But she was also his prisoner.

In the sunken ruins of his underwater palace, she found them—the porcelain cups, each one shimmering with a faint, eerie glow.

*"What are these?"* she asked, her voice hollow.

Vodník only smiled.

*"The souls of those who have joined me."*

Lenka understood then. She was not the first.

And she would not be the last.

The Eternal Watch

Days turned into years, and Lenka adapted to her new existence beneath the lake. Together with Vodník, she tended to the souls contained within the porcelain cups, each one a story unfinished, a life interrupted.

She learned to navigate the underwater corridors, her senses attuned to the subtle movements and sounds of the submerged world. The sorrow that once weighed heavily on Vodník began to lift as Lenka’s presence brought a new kind of solace.

Yet, the curse remained unbroken. The mechanism to free him was elusive, hidden within ancient texts and forgotten rituals that time had drowned.

Determined to find a way to release them both, Lenka delved into the history of the lake, uncovering secrets that had been submerged for generations.

It was a race against time, as the balance between their world and the surface began to shift, threatening to draw more souls into the watery depths.

Epilogue: The Legend Lives On

Years passed. The village moved on.

But on some nights, when the moon hung low over the Hollow Lake, the villagers would hear it—a voice, echoing through the mist.

A woman’s voice.

A voice pleading to be free.

And beneath the water, the Vodník waited, his emerald eyes never blinking.

For another soul.

For another bride.

The Unending Tale

Generations came and went, each adding their own chapters to the legend of the Water Goblin. New stories emerged, some claiming to have seen Lenka’s ghostly figure dancing beneath the waves, others speaking of dreams where the lake whispered their names.

The cycle continued, an eternal dance of love and loss, binding the living to the dead in an unbreakable bond.

Yet, hope lingered among the villagers. Some believed that true love could one day break the curse, freeing Vodník and the souls trapped within the lake. They held onto these tales, passing them down as both cautionary warnings and whispers of redemption.

And so, the legend endured, a reminder of the thin line between myth and reality, and the eternal quest for freedom and connection.

Some say it is only a fairy tale.

But those who have seen the ripples in the lake—they know better.

They know the Water Goblin is real.

And he is waiting.