Eldorie

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. It was an unexpected omen, they whispered in the cobbled streets of Eldorie, where the air crackled with unease and the skies wept ash-colored clouds. The townsfolk gathered at the riverbank, eyes wide as they watched the shimmering currents defy nature, pulling leaves and brambles upstream, swirling them into a frothy melody of chaos.

Lady Mira stood apart from the crowd, her heart gravid with dread. She was the Queen’s handmaiden and oracle, the keeper of secrets and the guardian of the Queen’s dreams spun in the silken halls of the castle. Despite the bizarre natural spectacle, she felt a coldness gnawing at her spirit, a premonition that today, of all days, the world would shift irrevocably. For weeks, whispers had snaked through the crevices of the castle, tales of a shadow creeping closer and closer. The ancient prophecy spoke of a time when the river would run backwards, heralding a great upheaval. Mirrored in its tumultuous waters, the townsfolk saw nothing but misfortune, yet Mira sensed something deeper—a hidden passage, a door long forgotten.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting shimmering golden rays upon the warping river, her resolve hardened. She slipped away from the gathering of endless whispering, her heart racing as she navigated the path through the whispering reeds and with every determined step, the echoes of her training as a handmaiden resurfaced: skillful hesitations and delicate gestures, the arts of silence; all honed for moments such as these. Arriving at the castle, she felt the pulse of magic weaving through the very stones. The halls were still, eerily echoing her footsteps. She approached the Queen’s chambers, her breath and heart catching in her throat. The heavy wooden door hung ajar, creaking on rusty hinges like a mournful lullaby. She pushed it open and gasped.

Before her stood the figure of the Queen, bathed in an ethereal glow, a shimmering silver gown cascading around her like liquid moonlight. Yet the Queen's eyes held shadows, depths of sorrow that threatened to swallow her whole. "Mira," she said, her voice a soft breeze, "the time has come. The river has chosen its course, and I must go."

"But your Majesty!” Mira cried, stepping forward, desperate to grasp the threads of fate unraveling before her. “You can't leave! The kingdom needs you!"

"The kingdom is in peril," the Queen replied, her expression distant. "I must confront the darkness that encroaches. If I stay, it will devour us all."

From the riverbank, the chorus grew louder, shouts of alarm and cries for their sovereign. Mira’s mind raced. “There must be another way! The prophecy speaks of balance—perhaps the river can still be mended.” The Queen looked at her, a glimmer of hope threading through the despair. “Then we shall mend it together. You must harness the river’s magic, and I will guide you. But know this: the fate of Eldorie rests in your hands.” With that, the Queen reached out, her fingers brushing against Mira’s skin. In an instant, visions flooded through Mira’s mind—currents of light, specters of dark, swirling energies that intertwined through realms unseen. She felt the pulse of the river in her veins, the weight of decades of endless suffering and the deep yearning for peace.

As if responding to their unity, the river shuddered and twisted, illuminating the twilight with sparks of vibrant colors, its flow beginning to straighten as stones shifted beneath the surface. Mira closed her eyes and stepped into the depths of the magic swirling around them, drawing on every breath, every wish she had ever held for her people. The townsfolk watched in awe as the water sparked, reflecting the deep bond of loyalty that mirrored the Queen's strength. Resplendent bursts of luminance burst forth, sending ripples of hope throughout Eldorie.

In that moment, the city held its breath. And then, with a final surge, the river surged forward, steady and true, bringing with it memories of laughter, safety, and warmth. As dawn broke, the Queen stood tall, her ethereal glow illuminating the returning flow of the river. “You have done well, dear Mira. The darkness recedes. I must fade into the tides, but know that I will always guide you.” And with those words, she transformed into shimmering silver droplets, carried gracefully on the newfound current, a guardian forever watching over her beloved realm.

Mira knelt by the emboldened river, the sound of rushing water a melody of old, the weight of responsibility settling upon her shoulders. The magic of the river ran true once more, and she could feel the life of Eldorie pulsing around her, ready to embrace the dawn of a new age.

With the Queen gone but her spirit entwined in every wave, Mira understood—she would carry the legacy forward, leading her people into a future born anew aiding the next royalty; but Mira’s heart held a nagging thought of the river mending is temporary. She must prepare for whats to come.