The Day the River Ran Backwards

The Vanishing of the Queen

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. No one saw her leave the palace gates, and there were no footprints to follow. But when the townsfolk noticed the river twisting against its usual current, rumors flooded the land. The Queen’s disappearance was not just strange—it was an omen, one that whispered of ancient magic stirring beneath the soil.

The kingdom of Eryndor had long known peace under Queen Seraphina’s reign, her presence like the steady rhythm of the river that nourished the land. But now, with her gone and the river’s flow reversing, fear began to gnaw at the edges of every heart. Something had gone terribly wrong, and those closest to her knew it wasn’t just an escape or betrayal—something darker was at play.

The Search Begins

Eryndor’s High Council called an emergency assembly, dispatching guards and envoys in every direction. Among them was Captain Aldric, the Queen’s most trusted knight. He had always believed there was something more to the Queen than met the eye—an ancient power, a quiet sorrow she carried—but her sudden disappearance made him question everything.

Aldric stood at the banks of the river, watching the strange backward flow. It pulled water from the sea, winding upstream toward the Mistwood Forest, where old legends warned of portals to other realms. No one dared venture deep into the forest—not since the ancient war with the Faefolk, who had long been banished beyond the veil between worlds.

Aldric knew that if the Queen had been taken anywhere, it would be the Mistwood. And so, with his sword at his side and an uneasy heart, he set off toward the forest, determined to find her.

The Forest of Lost Paths

The Mistwood was no ordinary forest. It was a place where paths shifted beneath your feet, and the trees whispered riddles only the wind could understand. Strange creatures lurked in the shadows—some friendly, some not. As Aldric ventured deeper, the river ran beside him, defying logic as it streamed backwards with increasing urgency, as though beckoning him further into the unknown.

After hours of walking, Aldric came across a peculiar figure—a woman draped in moss and ivy, her eyes glimmering with ancient knowledge. She was one of the Faefolk, though she did not seem hostile.

“The Queen does not belong to your world anymore,” she said cryptically. “She was always meant to return to us.”

Aldric’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “Where is she?” he demanded.

The Fae woman smiled. “You’ll find her where the river ends but never begins.”

The Lake of Reflections

Following the Fae woman’s riddle, Aldric reached the heart of the Mistwood, where the river flowed into a large, glimmering lake. The water was impossibly clear, reflecting not just the sky but also memories—moments long forgotten by the world. Aldric saw visions of Queen Seraphina as a young girl, standing by the same lake, her hands dipped in the water as if drawing strength from it.

And then he saw something that made his heart lurch. Seraphina’s reflection was not alone. A figure stood beside her, shadowy but familiar—one of the ancient Faerie Kings, exiled long ago. The Queen was not just a ruler of Eryndor; she was tied to the magic of the old world, a child born from both mortal and Fae blood.

Aldric understood now. The Queen hadn’t vanished—she had been reclaimed.

The Realm Between Worlds

At the lake’s center, the water began to swirl violently, forming a portal—a gate to the realm of the Faefolk. Without hesitation, Aldric stepped through, feeling the chill of magic wrap around him like a cold wind.

He emerged in a place that defied description—a land of twilight skies and glowing trees, where time seemed to bend and twist. There, at the center of it all, stood Queen Seraphina. But she looked different—her hair shone with silver threads, and her eyes sparkled with an ethereal light. She was dressed not in her royal robes, but in garments woven from moonlight and shadows.

“I knew you would come,” she said softly, as though expecting him.

“Why did you leave?” Aldric asked, struggling to understand. “Why now?”

“The magic of this world called me home,” she replied. “I’ve lived between two realms my entire life, but the veil is thinning. If I had stayed, both worlds would have suffered. I had to return to restore balance.”

A Choice to Be Made

Aldric’s heart ached. He had sworn an oath to protect her, but how could he protect someone who belonged to a place beyond his reach? “And what of Eryndor?” he asked. “They need their Queen.”

Seraphina smiled sadly. “The people of Eryndor are stronger than they know. They will thrive without me. But you... you have a choice.”

She stepped closer, her voice a gentle whisper. “Stay with me, Aldric. Leave the mortal world behind. Or return and let the river carry my memory back to them.”

Aldric stood at the edge of two worlds, torn between duty and desire. In his heart, he knew that Seraphina was offering him more than just love—she was offering him a place in a realm untouched by time, where magic never faded. But he also knew that his people would need him, especially in the uncertain days to come.

The River Runs Forward

In the end, Aldric made his choice. With a heavy heart, he stepped back from the Queen, his gaze lingering on her glowing form one last time. “Goodbye, Seraphina,” he whispered.

The Queen nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “The river will always remember,” she said. “And so will I.”

As Aldric turned to leave, the portal shimmered and closed behind him, the magic of the Faerie realm slipping away like a dream. He stood once more by the lake, the river now running forward, as it always had.

When he returned to Eryndor, the people mourned the Queen’s disappearance, but the river’s return to its normal flow was seen as a sign of hope—a reminder that life must move on, even in the face of loss.

A Legend Reborn

In the years that followed, Aldric became a symbol of resilience, guiding the kingdom through difficult times. But he never spoke of the Queen’s true fate, carrying the secret of her origins like a sacred vow.

And though the Queen was gone, the people whispered stories of a river that once ran backwards, and a Queen who vanished into the mist—stories that would be passed down through generations, becoming legend.

Some say that on moonlit nights, if you listen closely by the riverbank, you can hear the soft whisper of her name carried on the current, a reminder that love, magic, and sacrifice are never truly lost—they simply flow onward, like the river itself.