The River
1334 Words
From “The Doctrine of Warborn” — Imperial Military Record, Vol. IV
The Virelith are not born, but shaped.
By rite of tether, a soldier is bound to a source — one of strong elemental core.
In early eras, only royals were used. Their blood, though imperfect, was stable.
In time, necessity broadened the method. Select females, born of lower lines but bearing high elemental resonance, proved sufficient for the forging.
Few survive the rite. Fewer yet remain sane.
A tethered soldier draws strength from the source. If the source falls, the soldier follows.
The bond is irreversible. The loyalty, absolute.
Such is the price of power.
⸻
The summons came with no fanfare.
No bell. No announcement. Just a knock at the door before sunrise and a single word spoken through the wood:
“Now.”
Ellie opened it to find a man waiting.
He wasn’t dressed like the guards from the council hall. No grey wool, no village crest. His coat was deep black, fastened with silver hooks from collar to waist, and the insignia stitched over his heart was unfamiliar—an eye wreathed in flame.
He was tall. His shoulders straight, his posture too still. His hair was black, strands falling loose over his brow, the rest wind-slicked and neat. But it was his eyes that made her breath catch—ice-blue and unblinking, focused entirely on her. There was nothing kind in them.
“Elvira of Barrow’s Reach,” he said.
She nodded, then caught herself. “Yes.”
“I am Mars. Virelith.”
The name landed like a blade.
She swallowed. “Ellie,” she replied, then quieter, correcting: “Elvira.”
Mars said nothing more. He turned and walked.
She followed.
⸻
They didn’t go through the village square. He took the narrow cliff path, where the wind cut sharp and the mist swirled around their feet. The air was heavy with salt, but there was no sound but their steps. Even the gulls kept away.
Ellie didn’t speak. She wasn’t sure he’d answer.
The path narrowed further until it bent around the cliffs and opened onto the river.
She stopped.
The boat waited on the black water like something pulled from a dream—a long, low vessel with no oars, no sail, no crew. Runes shimmered along the hull in silver arcs, faintly pulsing, like the heartbeat of something alive. The water beneath it was perfectly still.
Mars stepped aboard without a word. The boat didn’t move under his weight.
Ellie hesitated. The mist coiled around her ankles.
“Board,” Mars said.
His voice was calm, but it cut through the air like steel through cloth. Not angry. Not impatient. Just final.
She stepped forward and climbed in, careful not to slip. There were no benches—just a raised platform in the center. She sat cross-legged, clutching the strap of her satchel and wrapping her arms tightly around her knees.
Mars stood at the rear of the boat, hands folded behind his back, eyes forward.
And then they were moving.
No push. No tug. Just motion—silent and smooth, as if the river had made its decision and agreed to carry them.
Ellie twisted to look behind her.
The village was already gone.
⸻
They didn’t speak for a long time.
The river narrowed between dark trees, their branches hanging low over the water. Moss clung to the bark like spiderwebs. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but faint light bled through the fog. Every sound—birdcalls, splashes, the distant groan of settling trees—felt far away.
Ellie pulled her shawl closer. “So… no horses, then?”
Mars didn’t answer.
“Right,” she muttered.
They passed a crumbling stone structure, half-swallowed by vines. A tower, maybe.
She pointed. “What was that?”
“Outpost,” Mars said. “Abandoned.”
“From what?”
Silence.
She sighed and rested her chin on her knees. “Are you always like this?”
Stillness.
“You know, I was warned about the Virelith,” she continued. “They said you don’t bleed. That you don’t sleep.”
Mars didn’t flinch. “Would it make you feel better if I said that was true?”
She blinked. His tone was dry, almost unreadable. “Not really.”
⸻
Hours passed. The sun crept up behind the trees, casting thin gold lines across the water. The boat never stopped, never slowed. Her legs began to ache from sitting. Her stomach hollowed. She didn’t ask to rest. She didn’t think Mars would bother.
He hadn’t moved once.
Ellie glanced up at him. The crest stitched over his chest shimmered faintly in the changing light. His black coat had no dirt, no wear, no visible fastenings beyond the gleaming hooks.
No sword. No reins. No command stone.
And yet the boat obeyed him.
“How long is the journey?” she asked.
“One day on water,” he said. “One on land.”
“To the capital?”
“To the outer wall.”
She nodded slowly. “And then?”
“Testing.”
The word hit hard.
Her arms tightened around her knees. “What kind of testing?”
Mars didn’t answer.
“Do they all die?” she asked.
He didn’t speak for a long time.
Then: “You’re cold.”
“I’m—what?”
He moved one hand, and a folded black cloak lifted from the floor beside him—she hadn’t noticed it before—and floated gently across the boat, stopping just short of her feet.
Ellie stared at it. Then, slowly, picked it up.
“Keep your strength,” he said. “We don’t stop until nightfall.”
She wrapped the cloak around herself. It was heavier than it looked. Lined in something soft and warm. Richer than anything she’d ever worn.
She opened her mouth, closed it again. There was no point trying to guess what kind of man he was.
⸻
The day stretched on.
They passed no boats, no docks, no signs of life beyond birds and trees and water. Once, a single deer watched them from the far bank before vanishing into the mist.
Ellie finally spoke again.
“Do you always escort girls?”
“No.”
“So why me?”
Silence.
She studied him. “Do you know what they’re looking for?”
“Yes.”
“Will you tell me?”
“No.”
She leaned back on her hands. “Do you think I’m it?”
Mars didn’t answer, but his posture shifted—just enough to make her feel it.
Ellie turned back toward the water. Her voice dropped. “I don’t even know who I am.”
Nothing from behind her.
She didn’t expect anything else.
⸻
As dusk fell, the boat curved toward a low bank where the trees gave way to stone. Mars stepped off first—his boots made no sound. Ellie followed, her legs stiff and unsteady.
He led her to a clearing just off the bank. An old fire pit sat ringed in smooth stones. It looked like it had been used many times before. No signs of others. No voices. Just them.
Mars struck flint once. The fire lit immediately. Too easily.
She wondered if it was him.
He handed her a small ration pack without comment.
She took it and ate in silence.
Mars didn’t eat. Didn’t sit. Just stood a short distance away, eyes scanning the woods as the last light bled from the sky.
The fire crackled.
Ellie curled the cloak tighter around her and stared up at the stars beginning to push through the darkness.
She hesitated, then asked, “Are you going to watch me sleep?”
“Yes.”
It was the most honest answer she’d heard all day.
She closed her eyes.
But sleep did not come.
And somewhere deep in the wind, she thought she heard her name.
- Writer
