The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished.

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished.

It was a sign, the elderswhispered,abreaking of the natural order that could mean only one thing: magic was stirring, ancient and uncontrollable. The quiet fishing village of Thireen lay along the banks of the Yserra River, a river known for its steady, calming flow. But on that morning, when the village awoke, they found the waters surging in the wrong direction, like a beast struggling to escape its bonds.

Elira, a young fisherman’s daughter, wasone of the first to notice. She had just begun her morning chores when she heard the tumultuous roar of the river, louder and more ferocious than she’d ever heard. The smell of salt and moss filled the air as the river’s current fought itself, churning with strange colors that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat.

“Mother!” Elira called, her voice thin with fright. “The river—it’s… it’s moving backward!”

By midmorning, word had spread, and the village elders had gathered at the river’s edge, muttering over ancient scrolls and casting wary glances at the water. None could explain the reversal, nor could they ignore the strange feeling that crept over the town—a feeling as if something, or someone, was watching.

At noon, the news reached the palace, miles downstream from the village. Messengers on horseback arrived, their faces pale as they delivered the strange report to the royal advisors. And then, just as swiftly, another report came: the Queen had vanished, without a trace, from her chambers.

Whispers spread throughout the kingdom like wildfire: some claimed she had fled to escape a looming threat, others that she had been taken by a dark magic. But no one could say for sure, and only a handful knew the full truth of what her disappearance might mean.

Prince Caelan, the Queen’s eldest son, was among those left in the dark. He had been preparing for his own coronation in the coming season, a ceremonial passing of power from his mother to him. The Queen had always been a silent force in his life, a ruler veiled in mystery and magic, rarely speaking of the great burdens she bore. Caelan had assumed, as any prince might, that his inheritance would be one of peace and prosperity. Now, with her gone, he felt the weight of the kingdom pressing on him like an iron mantle, heavy and cold.