As the seconds tick by, turning into minutes that feel like an eternity, the sun settles towards the horizon, casting its golden light across the chilled atmosphere. The once-blue sky transforms into a fiery orange as delicate hints of violet scatter among the clouds. The atmosphere becomes an intricate gradient, an abstract masterpiece created by light and shadow.

     A single lantern inside a wandering carriage amidst the vast grasslands glows like a firefly as darkness bites the surroundings. The stars sparkle, comets streak across the sky, and the crescent moon gradually rises, illuminating the world with its radiant glow. As the carriage ventures into the unknown, the stars shine, their gentle light raining upon the lone vehicle.

     Inside the carriage, Oliver falls asleep with his head resting on the window. Meanwhile, his friend, Gregory, dozes off as he leans on the opposite side of the vehicle with his arm crossed. The ride embodies serenity—the only sounds being the gentle rustling of the grass, the muted clopping of the horses' hooves, and the creaking carriage wheels.

     Oliver's eyes begin to open slowly, heavy with sleep as he blinks rapidly. Despite his best efforts to stay awake, his eyelids feel like lead, and he sinks back into sleep. Suddenly, the carriage abruptly halts, jolting Oliver awake as he nearly tumbles.

Gregory woke up, and his eyes widened. "Woah, are you fine, Oli?" Gregory asked in concern.

"Err... are we... are we there yet?" Oliver mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

Gregory let out a long, tired yawn before responding. "It's dusk now, so... uh... I'll assume we're here?" He peeked at the window.

The carriage door suddenly creaked open.

"Asbranne Lake, gentlemen," the coachman announced.

     Oliver and Gregory disembark from the vehicle and walk a few paces away from the carriage. Standing against the wind, they feel the breeze gently brushing their hair. Then, they close their eyes and take long, deep breaths.

"We're here..." Oliver stated, staring at the horizon.

     As the wind grows, Oliver's tailcoat dramatically sways with the grass. He descends a slope towards the serene lake with his loyal companion walking beside him. Soon, Oliver and Gregory reach the tranquil shoreline. The calm waters stretch out before Oliver and his friend, gently lapping against the shore.

Gregory gazed out in the distance, seeing the vast lake blanketing the horizon. "Do you see anything out there?" he asked Oliver.

Oliver squinted his eyes, hoping to spot something in the distance. After a moment of searching, he shook his head. "No, it's quiet," Oliver replied. "...Almost too quiet."

"Maybe we should sail around the lake and see what we can find," Gregory thought.

"That's a good idea," Oliver nodded. He then asked as he glanced left and right. "Are there any docks nearby where we can rent a boat?"

"I don't think so," Gregory responded. "The only docks I know of are on the southern coast, which leads to the sea."

     Oliver turned his head to the left and focused his sharp gaze on the distance. He then squinted his eyes. However, all he saw was the expanse of sand dividing the grassland and the lake. He then turned his head in the opposite direction. But, there were no signs of anything except the infinite grassy plains.

"You're right. There are no docks here," Oliver said.

"So, what do we do?" Gregory questioned.

Oliver lifted his palms. "Well?" he smirked at Gregory. "I cannot underestimate my abilities," Oliver whispered.

     Oliver extends his left hand towards the water with his palm open. He begins circling his forearm in a fluid motion, and as he does, the wind picks up in the direction he's pointing. The breeze carries pieces of wood, hurtling them into the lake near the shore as the water splashes. Soon, more logs come flying towards the water, propelled by the force of the wind.

     As Oliver continues, more and more pieces of wood fly into the air, creating a dangerous storm of flying debris. Gregory realizes the logs might hit him in the head. Gasping, he ducks and puts his hands on his head. While kneeling, Gregory watches the wooden planks swirl around in the air until they transform into a flat, unsteady raft floating on the lake's calm water.

"A raft?" Gregory exclaimed, walking towards the shore as the lake touched his shoes. "How splendid!"

     As Gregory hops onto the raft, the water splashes around him. He then extends his arm towards Oliver, offering a hand as he smiles at his friend. Oliver reaches out and places his warm palm into Gregory's, steadying himself as he hops onto the floating raft.

     Gregory helps Oliver maintain his balance as he finds his footing on the unsteady surface of the wooden raft. The two friends grin as they hold onto each other's hands. Then, their arms brush against each other.

     Oliver steps forward and raises his arms towards the lake's unseen horizon. Magical sparkles form in the gap between his palms, spiralling from the bottom to the top. As the white, shimmering magic elevates, a brown wood-like element fades in, turning into solid paddles in Oliver's hands.

"Wow, paddles?" Gregory exclaimed with astonishment.

Oliver grinned and handed Gregory one of the paddles. "Here you go!"

As Gregory grabbed the paddle and submerged it in the water, he asked, "Where to, sir?" He smirked, raising his chin.

"I told you not to call me 'Sir', sir," Oliver laughed. "Besides, you're the older one here."

"Okay, Junior," Gregory teased.

"Stop! That's way worse," Oliver laughed.

     The two men chuckled. Then, they begin paddling on the water. The raft started to move forward, venturing deeper into the lake's centre, heading to a place far away from safety.