Broken Rivers and Secrets

Liam Hart was not a man prone to existential crises. Reality, in his experience, obeyed rules—measurable, predictable, and gloriously indifferent to human frailty. But as he knelt in the mud of a world that defied every law he’d dedicated his life to upholding, he allowed himself one uncharacteristic thought:

Why the hell am I here?

Not the afterlife. No religion he’d scorned as a child painted hell as a swamp reeking of sulfur and rotting kelp. Nor was this some fever dream. The headache throbbing behind his temples felt too real, as did the fox-sized nuisance currently rifling through his pockets.

“Aha!” Wish crowed, pulling a crumpled protein bar from his tunic. “Monkey-world snacks!”

“Give that back.” Liam swiped at her, but she danced away, tails flicking.

“Trade,” she said, perching on a mossy log. “Answers for calories.”

He glared. “You’re stealing.”

“Semantics. Besides—” She tore the wrapper with her teeth. “—you’re thinking too loud. It’s annoying.”

Liam massaged his temples. The marsh stretched endlessly around them, tea-colored water bleeding into a horizon choked by towering reeds. Dawn painted the sky in bruised purples, the air thick with the buzz of insects and something darker—charcoal, maybe. Smoke.

“Fine.” He leaned against a cypress tree, its roots gnarled like arthritic fingers. “Where are we?”

“The Great River Delta.” Wish licked chocolate from her claws. “Heart of the River Kingdom of Azura. Or what’s left of it.”

“Those masked people,” he muttered. “Those raiders from earlier.”

Wish’s ears flattened. “They are from Obsidian Empire, well... Empire’s a generous term. More like a pack of overambitious miners with a god complex. But yes. Their scouts have been sniffing around the delta since Azura’s civil war.”

“And the Tidecallers?” he asked.

The sage went very still. “Who told you that name?”

“You did. Last night. You said they want to kill the innocent.”

Wish stared at him, her bioluminescent markings pulsing faintly. For once, she seemed at a loss for words.

“They’re not people,” she said finally. “Not anymore. The Tidecallers are… echoes. Priests who drank too deep from the Tideheart’s power. Now they serve the Leviathan’s brood, thinking they can control what drowned an empire.” She crunched the protein bar wrapper into a ball. “They’ll sense you eventually. Star-touched reek of otherness.”

Liam’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t ask for this.” He gestured to the marsh stretching endlessly around them. “Where’s the nearest civilization? A town, a village—anything that isn’t mud and mosquitoes?”

Wish licked chocolate from her claws, feigning thought. “Hmm. There’s Last Hollow, a river town east of here. Or was, before the floods turned it into a buffet for corpse-eels.”

“Charming. Anywhere else?”

“The Obsidian Empire’s outposts. They’ll skin you alive for sport. Or the Flame Keepers’ camps—they prefer roasting intruders. Crispy.”

“Last Hollow it is,” Liam said flatly.

“Brave choice!” Wish crunched the wrapper into a ball. “Don’t worry, I’ll carve Here lies the star-touched idiot on your tombstone.”
---

The delta unfolded like a waterlogged puzzle. Liam’s boots sank into silt with every step, the ground betraying him at random intervals. Wish bounded ahead, her glow cutting through the mist as she chattered about local flora.

“—avoid the purple blooms. They spit venom. The yellow ones are safe. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Well, they don’t spit.”

Liam eyed a cluster of bulbous flowers oozing black sap. “This place is a Darwinian nightmare.”

“Who is Darwin?” Wish sniffed a mushroom. “And wait until you meet the eels.”

They reached higher ground by midday—a muddy embankment overlooking a sprawling network of canals. Or what remained of them. The waterways were choked with debris: splintered houseboats, waterlogged furniture, the occasional corpse bloated beyond recognition. The air stank of decay and wet ash.

“Last Hollow,” Wish said quietly.

The town clung to the canals like a dying man to a lifeline. Its buildings—stilt-legged shanties with roofs of woven reeds—listed dangerously, walls scarred by flood lines. A central dock had collapsed into the water, planks jutting upward like broken teeth. But what chilled Liam were the sounds. Not the expected clamor of survivors, but a hollow silence broken only by the creak of rotting wood.

“Wait.” He grabbed Wish’s shoulder as she moved to descend. “Something’s wrong.”

She flicked an ear. “Besides the obvious?”

“No birds. No insects. Even the water’s still.”

A breeze stirred, carrying the faintest hint of melody—a discordant hum, like a choir singing through broken glass. Liam’s skin prickled.

“The Whispering Canals,” Wish murmured. “Locals say the water remembers. Screams, laughter, final words… all trapped in the currents.”

“Superstition. Sound waves bouncing through narrow channels.”

“And the shadows?”

He followed her gaze. Ripples distorted the canal’s surface, but the shapes beneath weren’t fish. Too large. Too angular.

“Get down.” He yanked Wish behind a moss-crusted boulder as a figure emerged from a half-submerged hut.

The man moved like a marionette with cut strings—jerky, disjointed. His clothes hung in tatters, skin mottled gray-green. Milky eyes scanned the docks as he dragged a net through the water, his breath rattling with a wet, gurgling wheeze.

“Plague?” Liam whispered.

Wish’s fur bristled. “Worse. Drowned.”

“Drowned?”

“The Leviathan’s curse. Its blood poisoned the delta. Those who drink it…” She shuddered. “Their minds drown long before their bodies.”

Another figure shambled into view, then another. A woman with algae braided into her hair. A child clutching a waterlogged doll. All shared the same vacant stare, the same labored breathing. They gathered at the dock, their net now heavy with squirming eels—thick, black, and eyeless.

The first man lifted a writhing eel to his lips.

“Don’t—” Liam’s warning died as teeth sank into scaled flesh. The man convulsed, black blood trickling down his chin. The others followed suit, their feasting punctuated by wet, animalistic grunts.

Wish’s claws dug into his arm. “We need to leave. Now.”

A floorboard creaked behind them.

Liam turned slowly.

The girl couldn’t have been older than ten. Her dress was caked in mud, blonde hair streaked with green. But her eyes—crystal blue, aware—burned with feverish intensity.

“Star-touched,” she rasped. “The Tidecallers see you.”

Wish hissed. Liam froze.

“They’re coming.” The girl pointed a trembling finger at the canal. “The hymns… can’t you hear them?”

The melody surged—a cacophony of drowned voices rising from the water. The drowned ones turned in unison, their milky eyes locking onto Liam.

The girl smiled, black blood blooming at the corners of her lips.

“Run.”

---

They ran.

Liam’s boots slipped on the muddy embankment as he scrambled after Wish, her twin tails leaving faint trails of light in the mist. The discordant hum of the canals grew louder, the air thick with the stench of decay. Behind them, the drowned ones shambled in pursuit, their movements unnervingly synchronized.

“This way!” Wish darted into a narrow alley between two listing shanties. Liam followed, his heart pounding as the walls seemed to close in around them.

The alley opened into a small courtyard, its cobblestones slick with algae. A rusted iron gate barred their path, but Wish didn’t slow down. She leaped onto a barrel, then onto the gate, her tails flicking as she balanced precariously on the top.

“Hurry up, monkey!” she called, her voice tinged with impatience.

Liam gritted his teeth and vaulted over the gate, landing hard on the other side. He glanced back just in time to see the drowned ones rounding the corner, their milky eyes fixed on him.

“Keep moving!” Wish urged, already bounding ahead.

They wove through the crumbling streets of Last Hollow, the drowned ones never far behind. The town was a maze of narrow alleys and collapsing buildings, each turn bringing them closer to the canals—and further from safety.

“We need to lose them,” Liam panted, his lungs burning.

“Working on it!” Wish snapped, her ears twitching as she scanned their surroundings.

They burst into a larger square, the remnants of a marketplace. Stalls lay overturned, their wares scattered and rotting. In the center of the square stood a massive fountain, its basin filled with stagnant water.

Wish skidded to a halt, her tails bristling. “Dead end.”

Liam cursed under his breath. The square was surrounded by buildings, their doors and windows boarded up. The only way out was the way they’d come—and the drowned ones were closing in fast.

“Think, Liam,” he muttered, his mind racing. “There’s always a way out.”

His eyes fell on the fountain. The water was still, its surface reflecting the pale light of the overcast sky. But beneath the surface, something moved—a shadow, large and sinuous.

“Wish,” he said slowly, “what’s in the water?”

She followed his gaze, her ears flattening. “Nothing good.”

The drowned ones entered the square, their movements slow but relentless. The hum of the canals grew louder, the air vibrating with the dissonant melody.

Liam’s eyes darted around the square, searching for anything they could use. His gaze landed on a rusted metal pole leaning against a stall.

Wish’s eyes narrowed. “Distraction?”

“Yes."

The drowned ones turned toward her, their movements jerky but determined. Wish zigzagged through the square, her tails flicking as she led them away from Liam.

Liam crouched behind the fountain, his heart pounding as he gripped the metal pole. He waited until the drowned ones were clustered together, then stepped out and swung the pole with all his strength.

The pole struck the fountain’s basin with a resounding clang, the sound echoing through the square. The water rippled, and the shadow beneath the surface stirred.

The drowned ones turned toward him, their milky eyes locking onto him once more.

“Now, Wish!” Liam shouted.

Wish leaped onto a nearby stall, her tails flaring as she let out a high-pitched whistle. The shadow in the fountain surged upward, water cascading in all directions as a massive eel-like creature emerged, its maw lined with rows of needle-sharp teeth.

The drowned ones barely had time to react before the creature struck, its jaws snapping shut around the nearest one. The others stumbled back, their movements uncoordinated as the creature thrashed in the water.

“Run!” Wish yelled, already bounding toward the nearest alley.

Liam didn’t need to be told twice. He sprinted after her, the sounds of the creature’s feeding fading behind them as they disappeared into the maze of Last Hollow.

---

They didn’t stop running until they reached the edge of town, where the canals gave way to the open marsh. Liam collapsed against a tree, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

“That,” he gasped, “was insane.”

Wish flopped onto the ground beside him, her fur matted with mud and water. “You’re welcome.”

“You could’ve warned me about the giant eel.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Liam shot her a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. He was too exhausted to argue.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the distant croak of frogs and the rustle of reeds in the breeze. The adrenaline slowly ebbed from Liam’s system, leaving him feeling hollow and drained.

“Wish,” he said finally, “who are you?”

She looked up at him, her bioluminescent markings pulsing faintly. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not just some… fox thing. You’re too smart, too knowledgeable. And you keep calling yourself a sage. So, who are you? Really?”

Wish’s ears twitched, and for a moment, she seemed to consider his question. Then she sighed and sat up, her tails curling around her.

“Fine,” she said. “But you’re not going to like it, too boring for your monkey brain.”

“Try me.”

“I’m… a remnant,” she said slowly. “A piece of something much older. Long ago, before the rise of Azura, before the Obsidian Empire, there were beings who walked this world—creatures of immense power and wisdom. They were called the Ancients.”

Liam frowned. “Ancients?”

“Yes. They shaped the land, guided the first civilizations, and protected the balance of this world. But over time, they faded. Some say they grew weary of mortal squabbles. Others believe they were destroyed by their own hubris. Whatever the case, they left behind fragments of themselves—echoes, if you will. I am one of those echoes.”

“So, you’re… what? A ghost?”

Wish snorted. “Hardly. I’m as real as you are. But I’m not whole. My memories are fragmented, my powers diminished. I’m a shadow of what I once was.”

Liam studied her, his mind racing. “And the Tidecallers? Are they like you?”

Her expression darkened. “No. The Tidecallers were once mortal priests who sought to harness the power of the Tideheart Crystal. But the crystal’s power is… corrupting. It twists those who use it, turning them into something else. They’re not echoes—they’re abominations.”

Liam’s stomach churned. “And they’re after me.”

“Yes. They sense your otherness, your connection to the stars. To them, you’re a threat—or a tool. Either way, they won’t stop until they have you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his mind reeling. “This is insane.”

“Welcome to Aquaria,” Wish said dryly.

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of her words settling over them like a heavy blanket. Finally, Liam spoke.

“What do we do now?”

Wish stood, her tails flicking. “Now, we find the Tidecallers before they find us. And we put an end to this.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” She grinned, her needle-sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “Unless you have a better plan, monkey.”

He didn’t.

---

The marsh’s oppressive mist began to thin as Liam and Wish approached a cluster of spiraling trees. Their trunks coiled like serpents frozen mid-strike, branches interlaced in a lattice so precise it seemed crafted by a meticulous hand rather than nature. Liam paused, squinting at the unnatural symmetry.

“This isn’t organic growth,” he muttered, crouching to brush aside a tangle of ferns. Beneath them, faint glyphs pulsed with a cerulean glow—a network of energy channels etched into the soil. “A ward. Someone’s hiding something here.”

Wish sniffed the air, her twin tails flicking skeptically. “Smells like desperation and bad decisions. Classic witchwork.”

Liam traced a glyph with his fingertip, feeling the hum of resonant frequencies. “If we disrupt the harmonic pattern here—” He pressed his palm to the central node, channeling pressure until the air rippled like disturbed water. The trees shuddered, their branches untwisting with a groan of splintering wood to reveal a path lined with bioluminescent mushrooms.

The grove beyond was a pocket of alien beauty. Will-o’-wisps darted between trees whose leaves shimmered like crushed emeralds, and flowers with petals of liquid gold pulsed in time with an unseen heartbeat. At its center stood a cottage woven from living vines, its windows glowing with warm, amber light.

Three figures emerged.

Morgaine, the eldest, stood tall and imperious, her silver-streaked black hair cascading over robes of midnight velvet. A staff topped with a serpent’s fossilized fang gleamed in her grip, and her eyes—sharp as obsidian shards—narrowed at the intruders. “Who dares breach the Veil?”

Selene, the middle sister, leaned casually against the doorframe. Her auburn curls framed a face of playful cunning, her lips painted the crimson of fresh blood. She twirled a dagger fashioned from a stag’s antler, its edge humming with trapped lightning. “Ooh, a stray pup and his glowing rat. How quaint.”

Nyra, the youngest, lingered in the shadows. Her ash-blonde hair fell in a straight curtain, framing eyes like storm clouds—gray, depthless, and flecked with static. She said nothing, but her fingers danced subtly, weaving threads of mist into intricate sigils.

Wish bristled. “Rat? I’ve devoured constellations for breakfast, child. Show respect, or I’ll turn your dagger into a toothpick.”

Morgaine’s staff crackled. “State your purpose, spirit.”

Liam stepped forward, hands raised. “We’re seeking refuge. A group of people are hunting us.”

Nyra’s fingers stilled. The mist sigils dissolved as she locked eyes with Liam, her gaze piercing. “Star-touched,” she murmured, her voice like wind through dead leaves. “So, we have another savior.”

Selene snorted. “He’s prettier than the last one.”

---

The cottage defied logic. Rooms expanded and contracted like living lungs, hallways bent into Mobius strips, and a chandelier of crystallized sap cast prismatic shadows. The witches led them to a dining table hewn from a single oak slab, its surface carved with constellations that shifted under Liam’s touch.

Morgaine served a stew that shimmered like molten starlight. “Eat. The wards will fray if you starve.”

Liam prodded the stew with his spoon. “What’s in it?”

“Mushrooms that grow on lightning strikes,” Selene said, leaning closer. “Moonlit thyme. And a dash of regret. Adds flavor.”

Wish lapped from a bowl, unfazed. “Tastes like nostalgia. 7/10.”

Morgaine steepled her fingers. “Why is someone hunting you, world-walker?”

Liam’s jaw tightened. “They think I’m a weapon. Or a key.”

Nyra’s storm-cloud eyes flickered. “You are probably both. You could probably die if you go back in the delta.”

Selene twirled her dagger. “Or you could stay here. We’ll protect you. Entertain you.”

Wish gagged. “If you’re this desperate, I’ll fetch you a toad. Equally charming, better conversation.”

Liam ignored them, his mind racing. “You called this place the Veil. What are you hiding from?”

Morgaine’s knuckles whitened around her staff. “Same as your situation, once sought our power. We refused. Now they hunt us as they hunt you.”

Selene’s playful smirk faded. “They took our fourth sister. Turned her into… something else. A puppet of the Leviathan.”

A weighted silence fell. Nyra’s mist sigils coiled into the shape of a screaming face before dissipating.

Wish licked her paws. “So, temporary allies?”

Morgaine nodded. “For now.”

---

After dinner, Liam wandered the grove. The air thrummed with energy—not magic, he realized, but harmonics. Bioluminescent plants hummed in frequencies mirroring waveform. Above, the sky shimmered with auroras that pulsed like a heartbeat.

A mournful melody drew him to a clearing. Selene sat on a mossy stone, plucking strings stretched across a curved frame of bone and obsidian. The instrument emitted tones that warped the air, rippling like heat haze.

Liam observed silently. The strings vibrated at frequencies that interacted with the grove’s wards—reinforcing them. “It’s a resonator,” he said finally. “You’re tuning the glyphs to stabilize the Veil.”

Selene glanced up, impressed. “Most men just say pretty music.”

“Most men aren’t physicists.” He knelt, studying the instrument. “The bone frame conducts vibrations. The obsidian acts as a capacitor. Clever.”

She smirked. “Careful, star-touched. Admiration is the first step to infatuation.”

“Observation,” he corrected. “Your fourth sister—what happened to her?”

Selene’s smile died. “He promised her power. Now she’s a monster with her face.” She plucked a dissonant chord. “Don’t end up like her.”

---

Midnight has now passed. Liam lay in a canopy bed, its curtains embroidered with constellations that shifted when he blinked. The witches’ food left him drowsy, his limbs heavy.

A floorboard creaked.

He tensed, but before he could move, a figure slid into bed beside him. Selene’s face hovered inches from his, her grin predatory.

“Don’t scream,” she purred. “I paralyzed your vocal cords. Temporarily.”

Liam’s eyes widened. He tried to sit up, but his body refused to obey.

“Relax,” she whispered, her breath smelling of elderberries and mischief. “I’m not here to harm you. Quite the opposite.” Her hand trailed down his chest. “World-walker genes are rare. Strong. I’d love to… preserve them.”

Liam’s mind raced. Is she—?

“Oh, don’t look so scandalized.” She laughed, low and throaty. “I’m a witch, not a monster. Consent is very important. But you’re too pretty to resist.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear. “Imagine the children. My magic, your starlight. They’d be magnificent.”

The door flew open. Wish stood silhouetted in the moonlight, a stolen biscuit in her paw.

“Really?” she deadpanned. “I know you are feeling itchy, but can you scratch it by yourself, and not in front of my cookie.”

Selene sighed. “Buzzkill.” She kissed Liam’s forehead, leaving a glowing mark that faded instantly. “Think about it, star-touched.”

As she vanished in a swirl of smoke, Liam regained movement. He shot upright, face flushed.

Wish tossed him the biscuit. “Here a cookie, that might ease the trauma”

“I need a cigarette.”