The day the queen Vanished

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished.

At first, no one noticed, not the merchants who set their boats along the banks, nor the children who played by its side. Only the fish, darting aimlessly against a current they had never known, knew something was wrong. By mid-morning, though, the villagers along the riverbanks gathered, staring in wonder and dread as the River Imri defied the rules that had held since time’s dawn.

Yet the river was only the beginning. It was said that the Queen of Lirendel kept the river in balance, that her soul was tied to its life force. So when she disappeared, the land’s very heart seemed to unravel.

In the capital of Eldraine, a sprawling city of silver towers and crystalline spires, the palace guards were frantic, searching every hidden chamber and locked corridor. The Queen had last been seen in her chambers, where she retired for the evening after her counsel with the Elders. But as dawn broke, her quarters were found empty, her bed unmade, her silver crown lying abandoned upon her dresser. It was not like her to leave without a word.

In the days that followed, people began to whisper about the strange things happening across Lirendel. Farmers reported that crops were wilting in the fields, the earth cracking in dry patches though it was the height of summer. Cattle refused to graze, horses bolted from their stables, and the sky itself took on a strange, hazy cast, as though a shroud had fallen over the sun. It seemed the world was mourning, sensing the Queen’s absence more keenly than any of her subjects could.

Rumors spread. Some said she’d been taken by a neighboring kingdom, eager to plunder Lirendel’s riches. Others whispered she had grown tired of ruling and had disappeared into the forests, seeking peace beyond the burdens of her crown. Only her closest allies knew the truth—or part of it.

In the depths of the royal palace, a secret council was called. Only those trusted by the Queen herself were allowed to attend. Among them was Arin, the Queen’s champion and a warrior of unrivaled skill; Talia, a wise sorceress who had served the Queen since her youth; and Rylen, the Queen’s trusted advisor, a man as shrewd as he was loyal.

“We all saw the signs,” Rylen said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She was troubled in recent weeks. Something weighed heavily upon her mind, though she did not confide in me. She often went to the river at night, alone.”

“Do you think she knew this would happen?” asked Arin, his dark brows knit with concern.

Talia’s gaze was fixed on the table, her fingers tracing an ancient rune carved into the wood. “The Queen spoke of dreams, of dark visions she could not shake. She mentioned a figure—shadowed and hooded—who called to her from beyond the river.”

“What sort of magic could be powerful enough to take our Queen without a trace?” Arin’s hand clenched the hilt of his sword, a relic passed down through his family, which glowed faintly in response to his anger.

“Not all magic is mortal,” Talia replied, her voice distant, as though she were listening to something beyond the walls of the room. “The river flows backward because the Queen’s spirit has been pulled from this realm. Only something as powerful as she could have done it.”

The council agreed they could not let the Queen’s disappearance go unchallenged. They would journey to the Mystic Veil, a sacred forest said to lie at the border between worlds. Legend held that within the Veil was the Gate of Nythis, an ancient portal that allowed one to cross into the Realm of the Forgotten, where lost souls roamed. If the Queen had been taken, it was there they would find her.

As dusk fell over Eldraine, the council prepared for their journey. Talia summoned her raven familiar, a bird as old as her magic, to guide them, while Rylen gathered a collection of ancient maps that would help them navigate the Veil’s shifting pathways. Arin, ever the warrior, sharpened his blade and muttered words of protection over his armor.

Under a blood-red moon, the three set out on horseback, the city’s gleaming towers fading behind them. The Mystic Veil awaited, a place of secrets older than the kingdom itself.

The journey was treacherous. The Veil was a forest unlike any other, with trees that seemed to whisper warnings in languages long forgotten, and roots that curled and shifted as if alive. Strange creatures watched them from the shadows—creatures that had not been seen in Lirendel for centuries. Time moved differently in the Veil; day turned to night in the blink of an eye, and the stars above seemed to dance in unfamiliar constellations.

After three days and nights of endless travel, the raven finally led them to the Gate of Nythis. It was not a gate in the traditional sense but a pool of water as black as night, surrounded by stones etched with ancient glyphs. The water rippled as they approached, as if aware of their presence.

Rylen turned to Talia. “Are you sure about this?”

Talia nodded. “The Queen’s spirit was strong, tied to the river and the land. If anyone can cross into the Realm of the Forgotten and return, it is her.”

With a deep breath, Arin stepped into the water, followed by the others. The world spun around them, the forest and stars twisting into a blur. They fell, deeper and deeper, until at last they landed on solid ground.

They found themselves in a desolate landscape, where the sun hung low in a sky the color of ashes. Shadows moved across the ground, some humanoid, others monstrous. They were souls, Talia explained, lost to memory and time, cursed to wander this place for eternity.

Guided by Talia’s magic, they searched through the wasteland, calling out the Queen’s name. Days passed, or perhaps minutes—the flow of time was impossible to measure. At last, they found her, standing on the shore of a vast, mist-covered lake, her form pale and translucent.

“My Queen,” Arin called, his voice breaking. “We have come to bring you home.”

The Queen turned to face them, her eyes filled with sorrow and knowledge beyond mortal understanding. “I was called here by a power older than I,” she said. “A spirit bound to this land long before our kingdom existed. It holds the balance between realms, but now it has been disturbed.”

“What must we do to free you?” Talia asked.

The Queen raised her hand, pointing to the lake. “The spirit lies beneath. You must enter the lake and strike it down. Only then can I return.”

Without hesitation, Arin drew his sword and stepped forward, plunging into the icy waters. The others followed, and together they descended into the depths, where a monstrous shadow lurked—a being with eyes like burning coals and a form shifting like smoke. They fought it with all their strength, wielding spells and steel alike, until at last, Arin’s sword found its heart.

As the creature dissolved, a blinding light filled the lake. The Queen’s spirit solidified, and she was restored, her power flowing back into her. The river of Lirendel would flow forward once more.

The four returned to the realm of the living, weary but victorious. The Queen resumed her place on the throne, and though she ruled with wisdom and strength, there was a new depth in her eyes—a knowledge of the borders between life and death, and a bond with her kingdom that could never be severed.

From that day forward, it was said that as long as the river flowed, the Queen’s spirit would remain bound to Lirendel, protecting her people until the end of time.