The black water swallowed Lyra whole. Her lungs screamed for air, but she couldn't tell which way was up. The cursed river spun her like a rag doll, pulling her deeper into its hungry depths. Strange lights sparked in the darkness—not stars, but the glowing eyes of drowned souls. Then everything stopped. Lyra floated in perfect quiet, surrounded by warm silence. No pain. No fear. Just peace. "Welcome home, sister." Elara appeared beside her, beautiful and terrible. Her silver hair floated like seaweed, and her skin glowed with strange light. But her smile was the same one Lyra remembered from childhood. "I knew you'd come to me eventually." "Let them go," Lyra gasped, somehow able to speak underwater. "Take me instead." "Oh, I intend to." Elara circled her like a shark. "But first, you need to understand the truth. About that night. About what really happened." The water around them started to shimmer and change. Lyra found herself standing in a memory—their old bedroom, ten years ago. Eight-year-old Lyra sat on the bed, braiding seven-year-old Elara's hair. "Tell me the wolf story again," memory-Elara begged. "You've heard it a million times." "Please? The one about the princess who yells at the moon?" Memory-Lyra sighed but smiled. "Fine. Once upon a time, there was a little girl who could turn into a dog..." Present-day Lyra watched her younger self tell the story.
"This isn't real. It's just a memory." "Is it?" Elara's voice whispered behind her. "Keep watching." The scene changed. Now they were by the river, memory-Lyra and memory-Elara playing in the shallow water. Everything looked exactly as Lyra remembered—until it didn't. "Come deeper," memory-Elara called, wading toward the center. "The water's perfect!" "No! Father said never go deep!" memory-Lyra shouted. But memory-Elara wasn't listening. She splashed further out, laughing. Then she screamed. Something grabbed her legs. Something dark and twisting that rose from the river's depths. Not a current or a rock or a mistake. A shadow with reaching arms and hungry eyes. "No," present-day Lyra whispered. "That's not how it happened." "Isn't it?" Elara appeared beside her, no longer beautiful. Her face was rotting, her eyes hollow pits. "You saw it happen, didn't you? The shadow that pulled me down? But you were so scared, so guilty, that you told yourself it was your fault." The memory kept playing. Eight-year-old Lyra dove after her sister, fighting against the shadow's grip. But she was too small, too weak. The dark thing dragged Elara deeper while Lyra's lungs burned for air. "You tried to save me," Elara said softly. "You nearly killed yourself trying. But you couldn't fight what lives in this water." Lyra's heart cracked open. "Then why... why did everyone blame me?" "Because they needed someone to blame. And you were easier to hate than the truth." The memory dissolved. They were back in the underwater realm, floating in liquid darkness. "What are you?" Lyra asked. "I'm what happens when a child dies in evil water. The river kept my soul, used my body, made me its servant." Elara's voice broke. "For ten years, I've been trapped here, watching you suffer while I couldn't help." "But you attacked the castle. You threatened to kill everyone." "That wasn't me!" Elara's form shifted between child and monster. "The river rules me during the blood moon. It uses my voice, my face, my thoughts. But right now, in this moment, I'm still your sister." Hope bloomed in Lyra's chest. "Then we can fix this. We can break the curse together." "No." Elara's smile was sad.
"Only one of us leaves this water alive. That's how the curse works." "I don't accept that." "You don't get a choice." Elara began to fade. "The blood moon is rising. The river's taking control again. In thirty seconds, I'll be its slave, and I'll drag you down until you stop fighting." Above them, the water started to glow red. The blood moon's light was penetrating even here, in the darkest part of the cursed river. "Fight it," Lyra begged. "I can't. But I can give you something first." Elara put a glowing pearl into Lyra's hand. "My memories. The real ones. Everything the river doesn't want you to know." The pearl burned against Lyra's skin. Images filled her mind—flashes of truth the river had hidden. Garren, young and hungry for power, makes a deal with the water's dark spirit. Her grandma, not dead by suicide, but murdered by the same shadow that took Elara. The river's true nature—not a curse, but a jail. Something ancient and evil, trapped beneath the water by old magic.
Something that needed human lives to break free. "It's not trying to curse our family," Lyra gasped. "It's trying to escape." "And we're the key." Elara's eyes were turning silver again, her will slipping away. "Our family holds the lock. Every age, it gets closer to freedom." "How do we stop it?" "You have to—" Elara's voice cut off. When she spoke again, it was with the river's cold power. "Enough. Time to join your sister in endless service." The water around them turned to ice, locking Lyra in place. Elara's rotting hands reached for her neck. But the pearl in Lyra's hand glowed with warm light. Her grandmother's voice whispered in her mind: "The lock needs a ready key. But what if the key breaks itself first?" Understanding hit like lightning. The river needed a live Blackthorn to serve as its anchor. But what if there were no live Blackthorns left? Lyra bit down hard on her tongue, filling her mouth with blood. Then she spoke the words her grandmother had died trying to say. "I break the chain. I cut the line. I choose death over work." The water burst around them. Elara screamed—not with the river's voice, but with her own. "No! You can't! If you die, everyone dies!" "Not everyone." Lyra smiled through the pain. "Just me. And that breaks the curse forever." She felt her life starting to ebb away, her heartbeat slowing.
The pearl in her hand cracked, freeing ten years of stolen memories back to where they belonged. But as darkness closed in, something unexpected happened. Strong arms wrapped around her waist. Kael's voice, muffled by water but clearly real, shouted her name. "I'm not letting you die alone!" He'd followed her into the cursed water. Followed her into certain death. The water around them began to boil with rage. The ancient thing trapped beneath the river bed roared its rage, sensing its carefully laid plans crumbling. But Elara, free from its power for the first time in ten years, smiled. "Two willing hearts," she whispered. "That changes everything." Light burst through the water. Not the red glow of the blood moon, but pure silver brightness that burned away shadows and lies. When it faded, Lyra found herself on the riverbank, breathing and alive.
Kael knelt beside her, his hands looking for injuries. "How?" she croaked. Elder Voss emerged above them, his ancient face grim. "Love, child. The one thing that cursed river never understood." But his relief was short-lived. Behind him, the house was burning. Black smoke rose into the blood-red sky, and screams echoed across the valley. "The river's fury has to go somewhere," he said quietly. "And it's chosen the pack." In the distance, wolves howled in fear as liquid darkness poured through the castle gates. Lyra clambered to her feet. "We have to help them." "With what army?" Kael gestured at the damage. "Half the pack is already gone." That's when Lyra saw them. Pale forms rising from the river behind them. Not the drowned dead, but something else. Something that made her heart stop. Elara stepped onto the bank, solid and real and living. Behind her came others—all the Blackthorn women who'd died fighting this curse. Her mom. Her great-grandmother. Generations of heroes, returned from the river's depths. "The lock is broken," Elara said, her voice strong and clear. "But the thing it contained is loose now.
And it's very, very angry." From the burning castle came a sound that made everyone's blood freeze. Not howling or screaming, but laughter. Ancient, evil laughter that guaranteed pain beyond imagining. "What have we done?" Kael whispered. Lyra took his hand and her sister's, feeling power flow between them. "We've started a war." In the distance, something massive began to rise from the castle's foundations. Something that had been imprisoned for a thousand years. Something that was finally free.