Soriya had heard the tales all her life, but they always felt like something distant, something that belonged to a time long before her. She had been born after the great change—the great stilling of time. When the river had slowed to a trickle, and then, eventually, ceased to flow entirely.
As a child, she would sit beside the banks of Tylea, gazing at the stillness. The water had become stagnant, reflecting the same day over and over, as if frozen in an endless loop. But there was a restlessness in her, a deep, gnawing feeling that there was more to the world than the sameness she experienced.
One evening, as the pale moon hung low in the sky, Soriya ventured further than she ever had before. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, and the silence of the river seemed almost oppressive. She walked through the tall grasses that bordered the river's edge, her feet crunching softly on the ground.
And then, she saw it. A shimmer in the water—like a flicker of light trapped beneath the surface. It was small at first, like the glint of a star just below the horizon. But as she approached, it grew larger, more vibrant.
Her heart quickened. Could it be? Was the river alive again?
She knelt down, reaching out toward the shimmering glow, her fingers brushing against the surface of the water. It rippled at her touch, sending a wave through the stillness. The river, for the first time in decades, seemed to stir.