The ocean was as beautiful as it had ever been.
A girl stood atop the mountain, gazing down at the river winding below, its surface catching the moonlight like strands of silver thread.
She never understood why people called it the Dark Valley River.
Night after night, despite her mother's warnings, she would sneak out and dive into its cool embrace. It was her secret, her sanctuary.
But one night, the storm came.
The currents pulled her under, relentless, violent and when she surfaced again, she was no longer in the land she knew.
It was quiet.
It felt wrong.
For the first time in her life, she felt what hunger meant.
For the first time, she felt what true fear of being alone was.
The river from this side flowed red.
She was just a little girl—dripping, barefoot, and cold. Her teeth chattered, but she didn't cry.
Not because she was brave, but because she didn't understand how. Where were the trees? Where was Mama? Why was everything so… wrong?
The sky was gray.
