The Vanishing Queen

Chapter 1: The River of Shadows

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished.

It was a quiet morning, the kind where the mist hovered low over the fields and the world seemed not yet awake. The town of Illadell rested peacefully along the edge of the River Cyra, a great artery that stretched across the kingdom of Eldoria. But this morning, something was different. At first, it was a murmur—barely perceptible as the villagers went about their tasks. Old Maira, the herbalist, was the first to notice.

She stood at the river’s edge, collecting water as she had done for decades, when her weathered hand froze. The ripples, usually calm and steady, were wrong. The current, which always flowed south, was drifting in the opposite direction, as if the river had suddenly lost its way. She rubbed her eyes and blinked. No, it wasn’t a trick of the light. The river, the great Cyra, was moving backwards.

Maira dropped her bucket and rushed back to the village square, her heart pounding. By the time she arrived, the news had spread. The river was reversing its course, and with it, something terrible had happened.

The Queen was gone.

Across the kingdom, in the capital city of Aralon, the palace was in uproar. Servants whispered in panicked tones, soldiers rushed through the halls, and the nobles, who had gathered for an audience with the Queen, now stood in shocked silence. King Alistair paced before the throne, his face pale and drawn. His eyes, once fierce with confidence, were now shadowed with fear.

“The Queen…vanished?” His voice broke the tense silence.

General Rurik, his most trusted commander, nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. There is no trace of her. She was seen in her chambers last night, but by morning, her bed was empty. The guards posted at her door claim they saw nothing unusual.”

“Nothing unusual?” The King’s voice rose. “A Queen does not simply disappear into the night, Rurik.”

“There is more,” the General hesitated. “The River Cyra. It…flows backwards.”

The room fell deathly quiet. Even the King stopped his pacing.

“The river?” King Alistair whispered, as if the very words carried a curse. “The prophecies…”

The prophecies. Those ancient, half-forgotten riddles that spoke of a day when the Queen’s bloodline would falter, and with it, the magic that held the kingdom together would begin to unravel.

Far from the palace, a young woman named Eira sat at the edge of the forest, her hands wrapped around the hilt of a sword that had once belonged to her father. She had heard the rumors—how could she not? The Queen had vanished, and with her, the only person who could keep the old magic at bay. Eira had no love for the crown, but even she knew what the Queen’s disappearance could mean.

The river ran behind her, its unnatural flow a constant reminder that the world was changing. The trees, normally vibrant and full of life, seemed darker, their leaves shifting in whispers only the wind could understand. The air felt charged with an energy she couldn’t explain, as if the very land was waiting for something. Or someone.

Suddenly, a shadow moved between the trees, quick and silent. Eira stood, her grip tightening on her sword.

“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice firm, though her heart raced. She had grown up on tales of the forest, of the creatures that roamed beyond the river’s edge. Some were harmless, but others… others were nightmares given flesh.

From the shadows emerged a figure cloaked in dark robes, a hood obscuring their face. They moved with purpose, yet there was no sound as they stepped closer.

“I know where the Queen is,” the figure said in a voice that seemed to belong to both a man and a woman. It was neither warm nor cold, but it chilled Eira to the bone.

She raised her sword. “Speak, or I’ll have you begging the river to take you.”

The figure paused, as if considering her threat, then slowly pulled back their hood. To Eira’s surprise, the face that stared back at her was youthful—far too youthful to hold the knowledge that their eyes conveyed.

“The Queen is not gone,” the figure said softly. “Not yet. But if you do not find her, she will be lost forever. And with her, the last hope of Eldoria.”

Eira frowned. “Why should I believe you?”

The figure’s gaze drifted to the river, which glowed faintly in the twilight. “Because the river has begun its journey backwards, and with it, time itself is unraveling. The Queen’s disappearance is only the first step.”

Eira’s blood ran cold. She had heard the stories, the warnings passed down through generations, but she had never believed them to be true. Now, standing here, with the river running in reverse and the weight of a stranger’s prophecy hanging in the air, she realized that the world as she knew it was already falling apart.

The figure’s voice cut through her thoughts. “There is still time to save her, but you must act quickly. The Queen is trapped between worlds, and if she is not returned by the next full moon, Eldoria will fall into chaos.”

Eira didn’t know what frightened her more—the idea of rescuing the Queen, or the thought of what might happen if she failed. But deep down, she knew she couldn’t turn away. Not when the fate of the entire kingdom hung in the balance.

“What must I do?” she asked.

The figure smiled, though there was no joy in it. “Follow the river, to where it begins. There, you will find the answers you seek.”

And with that, they disappeared into the shadows, leaving Eira alone with nothing but the sound of the river’s unnatural flow and the weight of an impossible task.

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished, and with it, so did the fate of the kingdom.