Novel & Cerita Hold Back The River Book

He looked down at me with pity, and just when I thought he would walk away like everyone else, he stopped. “You’re pregnant,” he said firmly, almost convincing himself. “I can’t abandon a woman carrying a child. My own wife is pregnant too. If she were in trouble, I’d want someone to help her. So I’ll save you.” He lifted me onto his back, carried me out of that basement, and then called for an ambulance. For the first time, I let out a shaky breath of relief. However, when we arrived at the hospital, there were no doctors, medicine, or equipment.

River's fingers danced across the spines, devouring titles that whispered promises of resilience and courage. "The Blind Voyager", "The Lame Warrior's Triumph", "Against All Odds", and "Unlikely Heroes" each resonated deeply, but one title in particular caught her eye: "The Story of Alero, Blind Healer". With gentle reverence, River pulled out the slim volume, its cover adorned with intricate, raised patterns that evoked the delicate petals of a flower. The book did not come out alone, it came with another document: a large parchment like the one in her dream!

“If I weren’t sure of this, we wouldn't be in this situation. I would have pushed you away, but I didn’t…” For a moment, I couldn’t understand him. Before, he was the one who kept pushing himself onto me, even though I said that this couldn’t happen. But now, he’s pulling away before I could even start. My other hand went onto his nape, leaning him closer to me. “You’re not hesitating now, aren’t you?” His eyes widened in surprise. Then, he shook his head as he stared at me, communicating using his gaze. “Holding back is the right term for it, Princess,” River finally answered after a few seconds. “I just don’t want you to regret it in the morning. That’s why I’m asking you now—”

With love, Calla Loren River – POV When I held her book in my hands for the first time, something strange happened. I didn’t feel old. I didn’t feel replaced. I felt home. Because her voice didn’t cancel mine—it continued it. And that’s what stories do when they’re loved well. They echo. James – POV “Do you think Rachel would be proud?” I asked River as we walked home that night. River looked up at the stars. “I don’t know,” they said softly. “But I think she’d be quiet.” “Why?” “Because sometimes pride is too big for words.”

In an instant, the calm surface of the lake behind us erupts, sending crashing waves toward the soldiers, water wrapping around their bodies like living ropes, pulling them down. “Don’t just stand there!” River shouts, his voice sharp with frustration, his eyes burning with intensity. He’s not waiting for a plan; he’s going to fight his way out of this. Brook, usually so quiet and reserved, is right there with him, his focus laser-sharp as he channels his magic. A spray of water rises from the river and solidifies into sharp, jagged ice spears that he sends flying toward the soldiers.

"Although I cannot be considered proud, I did not expect the other party to be so strong. Thank you for your reminder. I will be careful." The old turtle laughed. "The Weakwater River is the rear barrier of the Famous Store, and it provides a certain amount of protection for its rear. The undercurrent in the center of this river was also created by one of their experts. Mr. Hannigan, you've suffered a loss before, so you need to be on guard." Damn, this river was man-made? When the undercurrent attracted Samuel, he had tried to resist it before. But Samuel couldn't resist it even if he tried his best.

“I see. Very well then, you can check out the next room, you'd find a list of all the rivers close to this pack.” “Thank you.” I beamed a smile and immediately left his presence. Just as he said, I found various books that talks about rivers in that section of the library. But only one totally piqued my interest—Gingrich. The drawings from the book matched exactly with what I saw in my vision. That must be the place they were holding Akira. And I needed to get her back. I took urgent strides towards the door, clutching the book tightly to myself. But just as I wanted to step out of the room, I collided into a wall and the book fell off my hand.

Not long after, I heard footsteps at the door. Malcolm was back, carrying a wriggling fish in a bag, the water sloshing around inside. His face was still flushed, sweat lingering at his temples. When he saw me, his eyes flicked away for a moment. He held out the fish, his voice low and quiet. "Got a live one this time." I took it and weighed it in my hands. "Good. A live one is better. Means it's fresh."

But beyond the village is a river so wide it can fit several large boats end to end at one time, and beyond that? “What is that?” I whisper, more to myself than anyone around me. Ryatt steps up to my side, his hand pressed on the small of my back. I arch into his touch on impulse, my heart racing at the landscape beyond, like I’m seeking comfort and reassurance in his touch against my will. “Rifthold,” he says with no emotion whatsoever.

I pressed the knife handle into my palm until the pattern imprinted and let my heartbeat count the seconds between his storms. “Hold on,” I told myself under the tape, because I needed someone to say it to me and I was the only someone available. “Hold on. Breathe. When he comes back, you’ll aim higher.” The house with no curtains held its breath. The light slid another inch toward the door. Somewhere, the river kept talking to its banks like it always does. I pictured it. I pictured cedar and a scar and hands that ask instead of take. And I waited.