Long ago, before maps were written and before kingdoms drew their borders, there was a city that lived beneath a river. Not beside it, not across it—beneath it.
The people of this city were unlike any others. They built glasslike domes of crystal that shimmered under the rushing waters, glowing faintly at night with firestones mined from caverns far below. By day, the surface of the river sparkled like ordinary water, and no traveler would guess that a whole world thrived below, safe from storms, droughts, and wars.
But secrets cannot remain hidden forever.
One boy, Arel, found himself unable to rest with the comfort his people enjoyed. While the others were content, Arel often dreamed of the surface world. In his dreams, he walked through forests, felt the warmth of the sun, and saw endless horizons of sky—things his people had long abandoned. He asked the elders, "Why do we never rise above? Why do we never see what lies beyond the river?"
The elders would only reply:
"Because the river remembers. Because the world above forgets."
Arel did not understand.
One night, when the firestones dimmed and silence filled the domes, he climbed the spiral tower that reached the edge of the water barrier. With trembling hands, he pushed through the shimmering veil of the river. For the first time, he emerged into moonlight. The air tasted different—sharp and clean. He stood among trees, shivering as he looked at the stars, countless and unblinking.
But he was not alone.
From the shadows came a woman cloaked in silver. She looked at him with eyes like flowing water and whispered, "Your people chose the river to protect them from time itself. Down there, they do not age as the surface world does. That is why the elders forbid you from leaving. One step into the open world, and time will find you again."
Arel staggered back. Already, he felt something strange in his bones—like a weight pressing down. The years that had never touched him before began to settle on his skin.
The woman smiled sadly. "You have a choice. Return now and keep your youth forever, but never see the sky again. Or remain, and carry the burden of years, but walk in freedom."
Arel looked back at the shimmering entrance to his city, then up at the endless sky. He whispered to himself, "A sky that I cannot share is no sky at all." And he turned away from the river.
The city still sleeps beneath the waters, unchanged and eternal. But somewhere in the world above, old stories speak of a wanderer with silver-threaded hair, who knows every star in the sky by name—because he traded eternity to walk among them.