The boat rocked beneath me, its fragile frame creaking as I strained to keep it steady. The fog rolled in thick, turning the water beneath us into a black, murky chasm. The creatures had grown bolder lately—hungrier—and now their presence pressed against my skin like a weight I couldn’t shake.


    The boy huddled near the edge, trembling so violently I thought he might shake the boat apart. I hadn’t asked for his name yet—too much could go wrong if I got distracted.


    “They’re close,” I muttered, my eyes scanning the void ahead. I tightened my grip on the oar, the familiar weight grounding me in the chaos.


    “They’re... they’re coming for us, aren’t they?” His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.


    “Not us,” I snapped. “Me.”


    The fear in his eyes deepened, but he kept quiet. Smart kid. Those who couldn’t follow simple instructions didn’t last long.


    The fog stirred again, parting just enough to reveal the first glimpse of them—a shape too twisted to be human. Then another. And another. Shadows stretched and warped, circling us like predators testing the water.


    A thud hit the boat—a bump too soft to be a rock. But it wasn’t a rock.


    “Kaelith...” The boy whimpered, his voice a thin thread, barely holding.


    “Stay still. Don’t speak. Don’t look them in the eye.”


    “But why—”


    I whipped around, locking eyes with him.


    “What’s your name, kid?”


    He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking between me and the mist.


    “Therran.”


    “Alright, Therran.” I forced a calm I didn’t feel. “Stay quiet, and I’ll get us through this. Got it?”


    He nodded, his knuckles white where they gripped the side of the boat.


    The mist stirred tighter, curling like smoke in my lungs, dragging the air from me. One of the creatures moved closer, its form shifting like smoke caught in a storm.


    “Kaelith,” it hissed, its voice a cold, oily thing that wrapped around my name like it had a claim on it.


    I didn’t answer. It wasn’t worth the air.


    Another thud. This one harder, sharper. Therran gasped, and I shot him a warning look. His grip on the side of the boat tightened.


    Then came the laugh—low, guttural, like it had nothing but time.


    “You always have something for us, Ferryman.” it crooned. “You always do.”


    The boat rocked as it pressed against the side, a shadowy maw opening where its face should’ve been. My heart pounded, but I kept my voice steady.Stolen novel; please report.


    “What do you want?”


    The creature laughed, its sound vibrating through the fog.


    “Your story, Ferryman. The one you’ve buried. The one you’ve hidden.”


    I didn’t answer. Stories had power here.


    “You cheated it,” it crooned, its many eyes narrowing as they fixed on me. “The river doesn’t forget. The river doesn’t forgive.”


    I felt the chill creep down my spine, but I kept my eyes fixed on the water. Cheated? No. That wasn’t possible.


    Was it?


    The memories clawed at me, jagged and raw. The marketplace at night, Charys’ laugh, the way her voice still haunted me. I could almost hear her whispering, sharp and accusing: You buried your past. You cheated the river. And it will come for you.


    I gritted my teeth. Didn’t matter now.


    I had bigger things to worry about. Like the kid shaking in the boat beside me.


    I glanced at Therran—his face pale, eyes wide, locked on the fog like he was trying to keep the monsters in it from crawling into his skull. "He was just a kid. Too young for this. Too innocent."


    Hell, he reminded me of myself when I was his age—stupid enough to think I could outrun the river. Back then, it was just a storm in my head, something I could dodge.


    “You stay still,” I snapped, though my voice was rougher than I meant it to be. “Don’t look at them. Don’t speak.”


    Therran nodded, stiff as a board. He didn’t get it yet—couldn’t understand why I wasn’t just ferrying him across and calling it a day. But he would, eventually. I hoped.


    Another shape rose from the water, then another. The mist pulsed with their movements, each more frenzied than the last.


    And then I saw it.


    Beneath the water, pale and blurred, a face stared back at me.


    Aric.


    My stomach dropped. My breath caught. It couldn’t be. He shouldn’t be here.


    But there he was, his eyes wide and unblinking, mouth moving like he was trying to say something.


    “Aric...”


    The creature hissed, coiling tighter around the boat, sensing my distraction.


    “He belongs to us now,” it rasped. “His story is ours. Just like yours will be.”


    A wave of anger surged through me, hot and immediate.


    “He’s already dead! You can’t kill him again!”


    It laughed, a sick, guttural sound.


    “No, but we can keep him. We can unravel him. And soon, we’ll do the same to you.”


    I swung the oar again, harder this time, forcing the creature back. It screeched, the sound tearing through the fog, but it didn’t retreat completely.


    Aric’s face disappeared, swallowed by the murky depths.


    “Not yet,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.


    I looked back to the water, the face of Aric still haunting me from below the surface. The kid Therran didn’t deserve this. He was too young to know what it meant to be swallowed whole by the river. But I saw the same pull in him that I’d once had. The same damn pull I’d never been able to outrun.


    The mist seemed to shift, curling back as the creatures retreated into its folds. They weren’t gone—not entirely—but they were waiting now, watching.


    Therran’s wide eyes fixed on me. His breath was shallow, his body rigid.


    “What... what was that?”


    “Nothing you need to worry about,” I said gruffly, though my chest felt tight with everything I wasn’t saying.


    The river wasn’t done with me. And neither were the monsters in the mist.