The Lost Mage of Aeloria

It was a day in which the River Aeloria flowed backwards, for Queen Elara vanished. And across the riverbank, Eryndor stood: the Court Mage and he grasped tightly round his staff, with long robes in the depths of plum hanging, swaying there in a wild gust. His usual calculated and quiet eyes were very far open as he took a shocked gaze upon what was before his the very heart of this kingdom now flowing with their currents back in reverse. The current, once steady and serene, churned with unnatural force, drawing water upstream toward the dark mountains.

"Look!" Eryndor gasped, his voice cutting through the wind. "It's a sign—dark magic is afoot!"

Sir Alden, the knight commander, stood beside him, his face grim as he adjusted the hilt of his sword. He was a man of action, not one to dwell on the cryptic workings of magic. But even he could not deny the strangeness of the day. The Queen had vanished into the air, and now the kingdom's most ancient and sacred river seemed to be defying nature. Chaos was stirring in the capital, and people were looking to their leaders for answers.

We need to find her. Now, Alden growled; determination had the tone hardening in his voice. The kingdoms are in turmoil. We can't waste any more time. Lira! We need your guidance!

To her knees, at the water's edge, Talia the young healer sketched the surface of the river with her hands crossed. Dark locks danced across her face; she did not brush them back. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips moving in a soft chant, reaching out to the river as if it held some sign, some connection. She had always listened better to the pulse of the land than most and, now perhaps more than ever, needed to.

"I saw a vision," Talia murmured, her fingers trailing through the cold, strange water. "She's in danger, deep within the forest." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but its weight sent a shiver through the group. The forest was not a place to tread lightly, especially in these dark times.

Just as she spoke, the water rippled unnaturally, and a figure began to emerge from the river, shimmering with an ethereal glow. Lira, the River Spirit, rose from the depths, her form delicate and fluid, her body sparkling like moonlight on the waves. She had long been a mysterious protector of the land, tied to the fate of the river and the kingdom itself. Now, her presence felt more like a warning.

The Nameless One stirs," Lira said, her voice like a haunting melody carried on the wind. "Seek the heart of the woods; it holds the key to finding her. But beware." She hesitated, her eyes darkening, her voice lowering to a whisper, "Trust no one.".

Then there was a voice from the shadows, one that brought a tension breaker. "Not even you?" stepped out from behind the trees, his brow furrowed, the expression stern. Korin was a rebel leader with a natural distrust of magic as exercised by the kingdom. Even this ancient bond Lira claimed to the land meant little to him. "What do you want, Spirit? Why should we believe you now?"

Lira's eyes failed her, a momentary curtain of sadness crossing her face. "I look for balance," she said quietly. "The Queen's return is what the kingdom needs to have peace again. Without her, those that live within the forest will awaken, and they won't be gentle.".

Korin sat silent for a moment, his jaw set in concentration as he considered her words. He had no love for the monarchy, but even he couldn't ignore all the signs happening all around them. The kingdom was unravelling, and whatever was in the centre of the woods was more dangerous than his vendetta.

"Then let's hurry!" shouted Alden, his voice full of urgency. He was running out of patience. Each passing second spent standing near the river seemed to bring him closer to disaster. "We can't afford to waste another minute!"

Talia sat up on the water's edge with fingers shivering cold and sore from the weight of the visions she had witnessed. She spoke out firmly in a determined voice, despite the fear spreading deep inside. "Let us not fear. Together we shall seek out the truth. We will get the queen back.".

Then forward!" declared Eryndor, his voice heavy with authority. With a sweep of his staff, he headed eastward, the towering trees seemingly whispering in the wind as if they too knew that the group was about to embark on a journey. The mage went ahead to lead them into the creeping gloom of the trees, where hope lay entangled with shadows.

The forest towered like some huge beast ready to gobble them down. Ancient trees with their twisted, gnarled branches seemed to bear the weight of forgotten secrets and too much history around them. The deeper they walked forward, the darker it became as if the sun itself was running away from the woods. Only rustling leaves and their steps broke the eerie silence weighing over them.

Korin followed behind the group, his hand resting on the dagger at his waist. He darted his eyes about from shadow to shadow, suspicion gnawing within him. Lira's warning echoed in his mind: "Trust no one." But who was the traitor? The spirit? The mage? Or among them? He could not rid himself of the feeling that they were being led into a trap.

Talia's heart pounded in her chest as she trudged deeper into the woods. The pulse of the land was growing stronger, more restless. Something ancient and powerful was stirring beneath the roots of the trees, something connected to the disappearance of the Queen and the reversing of the river.

At the heart of the forest lay the heart of the woods—a clearing bathed in unnatural light. Middle stood a stone altar, overgrown vines and cracked patterns on the surface from age. The air was heavy with the kind that made the hairs stand on the back of their necks.

Lira's voice whispered through the trees. "Here lies your answer. But beware. the Nameless One watches."

And as they stepped into the clearing, the ground shook. The forest itself was holding its breath. Something dark was stirring, and the fate of the kingdom hung in the balance.