The river ran backward on the day the Queen vanished.

The river ran backward on the day the Queen vanished.

It was not a small thing, the river running backward. In a land where magic still lingered like smoke from a long-extinguished fire, it was a warning. A sign. The old folk had whispered of such events in the dark corners of taverns and the warmth of hearths—of strange portents that heralded great changes, though none had ever truly believed them. Not until that morning.

The people of Riverstone woke to the sight of the silver stream that curved through their city now twisting unnaturally, the water rising like a great beast disturbed from its slumber, and flowing up into the hills where it had never gone. It was a slow thing at first, imperceptible, but by midday, the river was a torrent, surging in reverse, as though it had been sent back to its origins.

Mira was the first to notice. She had been watching the water from her window when the change occurred. The sky above was overcast, a dense blanket of clouds obscuring the sun, but it wasn’t the weather that made her uneasy. It was the sight of the river that had always brought her comfort now becoming a thing of dread. She’d grown up near its banks, watched it shimmer and flow through every season, and yet today, it was as though the very earth itself had begun to unmake itself.

She had a sinking feeling. It wasn’t just the river—something far worse was happening.

A shadow passed over the courtyard outside the castle, and Mira pulled herself from the window. She could feel it in her bones. This wasn’t simply a river out of place; this was something else entirely.

The Queen…

Her heart stuttered in her chest, and she rushed to the throne room, praying that the feeling that clung to the air was just the product of too many nights spent worrying.

Inside, the court was already in a panic. Nobles and advisors scurried about, their voices a cacophony of concern. The Queen was missing. There was no other way to say it. One moment, she had been in her chambers, conferring with her closest counsel. The next, the guards had found the room empty, the bed untouched, the only sign of disturbance a faint golden glow that clung to the floor like an old stain.

“You’re certain, Captain?” Mira asked, stepping forward into the chaos, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

“Certain, Your Highness,” Captain Alaric replied, his face drawn tight. His armor gleamed dully in the low light, his eyes wild. “The Queen—she simply vanished. We’ve scoured the castle, the halls, the chambers beneath. Nothing.”

Mira’s thoughts raced, her mind tumbling over the possibilities. The Queen, her mother, had always been a figure of calm, of wisdom, of strength. There had never been a sign, not once in all her years, that anything could unsettle her. She was a queen who had brought prosperity to the kingdom, whose rule had been long and peaceful, her reign marked by careful diplomacy, by an unshakable resolve. For her to vanish? It defied everything.

“What about the river?” Mira asked, her voice rising with urgency. “Has anyone seen it? Is it—”

“The river…” Alaric’s voice faltered. “It’s… it’s running backward, Your Highness. Upstream. Just like the prophecies said.”

Mira stiffened. Prophecies. She had grown up hearing about them in passing, old, dust-covered scrolls that spoke of an event like this. But even as a child, she had always dismissed them, thinking them the stuff of fairy tales and legends. It seemed impossible, absurd, that the magic of old could still linger in the world. And yet here it was, unfolding before her eyes.

The Queen’s disappearance was no coincidence. The river—that river—was the key.

“We must find her,” Mira said, her voice firm now, despite the panic that churned in her gut. She turned to Captain Alaric. “Gather the best of our knights. We leave immediately.”

“But Your Highness—”

“No arguments. We go now.” Mira’s gaze locked with his. He nodded, though his eyes remained troubled.

The journey was swift, the group of knights and royal guards leaving the city as the sun began its slow descent, casting the land in a dusky glow. The roads that led toward the river’s source were uneven, rough, and treacherous, but Mira had always loved the wildness of the land beyond the city. It had a beauty, a rawness, that the polished stone of Riverstone could never replicate.

The river had begun to rage more fiercely as they moved upstream, the waters rising higher and faster, the land growing colder as they ascended. Strange symbols began to appear, etched into the stones that lined the path, symbols that Mira knew but could not understand. Old, forgotten magic. The kind of magic that predated even her mother’s reign.

Finally, they reached the source of the river: a narrow, twisting gorge that led up into the mountains. The once tranquil stream was now a wild torrent, the waters rising so high they threatened to spill over the edges. In the distance, something flickered in the mist—a figure, standing alone on a rock, their silhouette barely visible.

“Mother,” Mira whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of the rushing water.

With her heart in her throat, she stepped forward, her feet sure despite the slippery rocks beneath her boots. As she drew nearer, she could see her mother standing on the rock, her back to them, bathed in an eerie golden light.

“Your Majesty!” Captain Alaric called out, but the Queen didn’t stir.

Mira’s mind raced, her heart pounding. What was this? What had happened? She could see the faint trace of a smile on the Queen’s lips, but it was a smile like a fading star.

“Mother?” she asked again, her voice trembling.

And then, slowly, the Queen turned. Her face was ageless, untouched by time, but her eyes—they were not the eyes Mira had known. They were darker now, distant, filled with an ancient sadness.

“The river runs backward,” the Queen said softly, her voice far away, “because the time has come. The prophecy has begun.”

Mira’s breath caught in her throat. The prophecy. The one she had never believed.

“Prophecy?” Mira’s voice wavered. “What do you mean? Where did you go? Where—”

“The river is my prison, Mira,” the Queen whispered, her voice carrying the weight of a thousand years. “And I… I must leave it now. You must choose, my daughter. The world is unraveling, and you alone hold the power to stop it.”

Mira shook her head. “I don’t understand. I don’t have—”

“You do, Mira. You have the blood of the ancient ones in your veins. The power flows through you, though you have yet to awaken it. You must follow the river, beyond the veil. To find what has been lost. To stop the coming darkness.”

Mira’s heart raced, her mind a blur of confusion and fear. She reached out to her mother, but the Queen stepped back, her figure beginning to dissolve into mist, the golden light swallowing her whole.

“Do not fear, my child,” the Queen’s voice echoed in the air, though her form was gone. “This is only the beginning. Your journey awaits.”

And then, silence.

The river surged and swirled, its waters now glowing with a strange, ethereal light.

Mira stood alone in the cold wind, her mother gone, and the path ahead more uncertain than ever.

The world, it seemed, was waiting for her to make a choice.

The prophecy had begun.