Ami, clutching her notepad, peers nervously up the serpentine river. Her two younger brothers, Tilo and Mira (the latter, a practical joker with a quick wit, despite the feminine name), silently push the canoe into the water. The village bell tower looms behind them, its weathered stones flickering between shadow and light, as if time itself is uncertain.
"We have until sunrise. If the name isn’t returned, the town will fade. I’ll document everything, in case anyone remembers us," Ami whispers, voice trembling with a mix of resolve and fear. Tilo, ever the optimist, flashes a reassuring grin, while Mira adjusts the old lantern, casting ripples of gold across their determined faces.
Tilo dips his paddle, breaking the silence. "Do you think the river spirits will even listen to us? Everyone says they’re just old stories," he murmurs, voice almost drowned by the gentle lapping of water.
"If we don’t try, there’ll be nothing left to remember," Mira replies, glancing at Ami for support. Ahead, a flickering light signals the start of the haunted stretch—the domain of the name-thief.
The canoe grates softly against the gravelly shore. Ami steps forward, heart thundering, and lifts her notepad as a token of truth.
"You stole our river’s name. Without it, our home will vanish. We beg you—return it before dawn," Ami pleads, her voice steadier than she feels. The spirit’s eyes gleam with ancient sorrow.
The spirit’s voice echoes, layered with river-song and sorrow. "Names are not easily returned. What will you give in exchange? The river forgets as much as it remembers,"
Mira, moved by desperation, offers the lantern—a symbol of their family’s hope. "Take this. Let its light remind you of the warmth you stole," he says. The spirit accepts, and the orb flickers, the lost name coalescing in swirling script.
Ami scribbles furiously, tears streaming as her brothers cheer. "We did it! Look—the river remembers us," Tilo cries, pointing to their hometown’s reflection, now vivid and unbroken.
"Let’s go home. I’ll write our story so no one forgets," Ami vows, voice steady and proud. The siblings paddle downstream, the river’s name echoing softly, a promise carried on the current.
Ami holds her notepad high, her brothers flanking her. The bell chimes, solid and clear, and the river gleams once more with its rightful name.
"Next time, let’s just stick to regular adventures," Mira jokes, laughter mingling with the morning breeze. The siblings exchange glances, grateful for a world restored—and for the bond that saved it.
