Chapter 1
Night pressed heavily upon the mountains, the wind sweeping through the trees like a chorus of restless spirits. Thunder rolled across the sky, and lightning carved brief white scars through the clouds before they gathered and smothered the moon. Rain followed—first a whisper, then a relentless torrent that drowned the land in silver sheets.
At the foot of the eastern ridge, a wooden house burned against the dark like a wounded lantern. Flames clawed upward, sparks lost instantly to the rain. A cluster of armored men stood before it, unfazed by the storm, watching the blaze with unsettling calm.
Inside, chaos had already taken hold.
“Get the children out of here,” David said, cupping Josie’s face with trembling hands. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
“No.” Josie’s voice cracked. “I can’t leave you.”
“You have to.” His forehead rested against hers. “Our children matter most. Keep them safe. I promise—I’ll find you.”
“David—”
“Josie!” another woman called sharply. “Now isn’t the time. Move the children!”
Before she could respond, a deafening crack split the air. The blast flung them back as fire surged through the doorway. The children screamed as the light swallowed the room.
Their mother, barely holding herself up, reached for them. “Go,” she whispered, forcing a trembling smile. “Run. I’ll be right behind you.” Her voice wavered, but she tried to sound calm. “Don’t look back. We’re all fine. Just go.”
But outside the windows, the storm revealed a different truth. Shadows clashed in the rain—figures struggling with steel glinting between them. Bodies lay still on the ground, the storm trying in vain to wash the violence away. The smell of smoke and rain filled the air.
“No—don’t look!” the mother cried, shielding them as best she could, but the building groaned above her. A piece of the collapsing ceiling fell, cutting her off mid-sentence and sending dust and sparks through the air.
Shaking with terror, the older child covered his sister’s eyes. “Mom said don’t look,” he whispered, voice trembling.
Then—soft footsteps. A figure stepped through the fire as if it were nothing. Cloaked in black, masked, his presence swallowed the doorway like living shadow.
With one kick, he forced the weakened door aside.
“So hot,” he muttered under his breath, sounding more annoyed than afraid.
The children backed away but stopped when the storm behind him revealed nothing but chaos. Without hesitation, they ran to him, clutching at his cloak.
“Please—save our parents! They didn’t do anything!” they sobbed.
The masked man lifted one child effortlessly. “Come on.” He turned, already leaving the burning room behind.
“Please!” the child begged, voice breaking. “Please save them—we’ll be good, we promise—”
“They’re gone,” the man said simply, not slowing. His tone held no cruelty, only a distant certainty that made the words even harder to bear.
“No!” the child cried, struggling in his arms. “Put me down! They’re not—”
The man didn’t stop. The girl, left behind, reached out desperately.
“Please take me with you! I’m scared!”
But he walked into the storm without looking back, vanishing into the rain with her brother.
The fire raged behind her. Roof beams fell, blocking every exit. The girl stumbled through the smoke, searching for a way out, but the house was collapsing faster than she could move.
Tears blurred her vision. With nowhere left to run, she stood still, trembling, eyes squeezed shut.
The heat vanished.
Cold air swept around her instead—strange, quiet, and alive with unfamiliar sounds. When she opened her eyes, she stood beneath impossibly tall trees rising into darkness. The rain still fell, but it was different here—cooler, heavier, almost shimmering.
She could still hear the flames roaring like a monster, devouring everything she'd ever known. Ash rained from the sky. The child left behind stumbled, coughing hard, eyes full of smoke and tears.
A faint rustle echoed behind her.
Her heart stuttered.
She didn’t look back.
She just ran—through a forest that did not belong to her world, her small feet splashing through cold mud as she ran.
Branches whipped past her, shadows twisting with every step. The ground was uneven and wild. Nothing like the world she knew. The fire’s glow chased her shadow. Every breath hurt. Each step threatened to break her.
But she didn't stop.
She couldn't stop.
Behind her, the house—her home—collapsed inward with a final groan. It was no longer a place. Just a grave.
She didn’t cry yet. Not fully.
Barefoot, she didn’t see the sharp twig hidden beneath the roots. Pain shot up her leg, quick and fierce, but she pushed forward, breath trembling. Whatever had brushed her skin left a strange, burning sensation spreading far too fast.
The deeper she ran, the weaker she felt. Her legs grew heavy, the forest tilting around her like a wavering dream. She tried to keep going, dragging her injured foot through leaves and mud, but her strength slipped away with each step.
She tripped over a fallen trunk. Hit the ground with a thud. Her limbs shook as she tried to rise—once, twice. They wouldn’t hold her.
Her legs felt weak, like jelly. Her head spun, and she couldn’t think straight.”
Her vision blurred, the towering trees melting into dark shapes. Her head throbbed like a drumbeat echoing inside her skull.
Even then, she forced herself upright. Her legs trembled beneath her, barely holding her weight. She staggered a few steps, then fell again, branches and shadows spinning past her.
She shut her eyes tightly, braced for the impact —for the jolt of pain she’d felt every other time she collapsed.
But it never came.
Instead, something stopped her fall. Not earth. Not roots. Something warm, steady, and unexpectedly gentle. An arm—no, a presence— not sure, but the unknown caught her.
For a moment she didn’t move, barely able to tell if she was awake or dreaming.
All she could feel was the warmth of an unfamiliar embrace holding her up in the darkness.
Safe, but not whole.
She murmured
“Mama said they were fine.”
Her voice cracked.
She knew it was a lie—but she clung to it like breath.
---
The world dimmed.
Then, quietly, she slipped into unconsciousness.
---
Thank you so much for starting **Winter River Eyes**.
This first chapter sets the tone for everything that follows—storms, shadows, and the first cracks in the world Maya thought she understood. As you read, pay attention to the little details… not everything is what it seems, and nothing in this story appears by accident.
I hope you enjoy the mystery, the atmosphere, and the quiet tension woven through these opening pages. There’s so much more waiting beneath the surface. ❄️👁️
— Authoress emahIX
