Mornings in Fontaine were supposed to be elegant: a soft mist on the canals, the scent of pastries, violins in the distance.Instead, Furina woke up to a duck sitting on her face.
"QUACK."
She screamed, flailed, and rolled off the bed with the grace of a collapsing chandelier.The duck, unbothered, waddled to the dresser and began preening in her mirror.
"Why?" Furina demanded. "Why do things like this happen to me?"
From the doorway, a familiar voice replied, "Because you left the balcony open, Your Excellency."Focalors stood there holding two cups of tea like nothing was wrong.
Furina pointed dramatically at the intruder. "Evict that feathery menace immediately!"
"Actually, that's Duc de Canard, the Mayor's pet," Focalors said, setting the tea down. "He got lost during yesterday's commotion."
Furina froze. "Wait—the Duc de Canard? The one with diplomatic immunity?"
"The same."
The duck quacked again, utterly regal.
Furina sighed, rubbing her temples. "Even the waterfowl here outrank me emotionally."
Focalors chuckled. "You're doing fine. Yesterday's incident was handled well."
"Oh yes," she said, sipping her tea. "A perfect display of grace, power, and near-drowning."
He tilted his head. "You're deflecting."
"I'm defending my artistic legacy."
But as she glanced at the Hydro sphere still sealed in its containment crystal—floating beside the window—she felt the humor falter.That dark residue still shimmered, almost pulsing with her heartbeat.It hadn't disappeared overnight.
Furina set her cup down. "It's following me, isn't it?"
Focalors nodded. "It's tied to your energy. When you awakened your full power, something—shifted. You're no longer just Fontaine's Archon."
She blinked. "Oh splendid. I'm a walking plumbing hazard and a metaphysical anomaly."
"Perhaps both," he said with that infuriating calm.
Before she could retort, an officer burst into the room. "Your Excellency! The lower canals— they're flooding upward!"
"Upward?" Furina repeated. "As in, water defying gravity, or as in, citizens are exaggerating again?"
"Gravity, ma'am!"
Furina grabbed her hat. "Perfect! I needed an excuse to skip paperwork."
The lower canals looked like a fountain gone berserk. Streams of water spiraled skyward, freezing midair into floating ribbons. Children laughed, splashing at the levitating puddles. Engineers panicked.
Furina and Focalors arrived in a blur of blue light."Alright," she said, inspecting the chaos. "On a scale of one to Fontaine's theater guild, how dramatic is this?"
"About an eight," he said. "Possibly nine if someone starts singing."
"Then let's end the act before they break into chorus."
She raised her hand—and paused. The Hydro currents resisted. It felt like pushing against herself. The ribbons coiled tighter, shaping faces, almost like—
"Reflections," Focalors murmured. "They're mirroring you."
Sure enough, the water twisted into dozens of tiny Furinas, each one pulling exaggerated expressions.
"Oh, I hate this," Furina muttered. "They're stealing my best angles."
The reflections giggled—actually giggled—and began dancing across the rooftops, splashing in synchronized mockery.
"Focalors," she said flatly, "am I being heckled by water?"
"Technically, by your subconscious."
"Fantastic. I'm officially too self-aware to function."
She channeled Hydro energy, forming a glowing trident. "Alright, reflections! Curtain call!"
The copies mimicked her perfectly—pose, glare, and all. Then they attacked, a blur of blue motion.
The air filled with laughter and splashes. Furina fought her own echoes, diving, deflecting, countering.Every strike against them rippled through her own energy. It hurt—but also felt familiar, like peeling away old costumes.
Finally, she caught one reflection mid-leap and slammed it into the canal. The others froze.
"Who's the original now, hm?" she declared.
The reflections shimmered, then collapsed into pure water. The canals stilled. Citizens cheered.
Panting, she turned to Focalors. "How's that for divine finesse?"
He smiled faintly. "Messy. But sincere."
"Messy sincerity is my brand," she said, brushing her hair back.
He stepped closer, examining the remaining droplets. "It's clear now. The boundary between you and Fontaine's consciousness is weakening. The city reacts to your emotions."
Furina frowned. "So if I feel stressed, the canals have an existential crisis?"
"Essentially."
"Great. So the only thing standing between Fontaine and watery chaos is my emotional stability. We're doomed."
Focalors laughed softly. "You'll manage."
And somehow, despite everything, Furina almost believed him.
That night, she wrote in her journal—a habit she'd picked up recently.
Day 2: Apparently I'm emotionally connected to the entire nation. No pressure.Also, Focalors makes excellent tea but terrible reassurance jokes.I think the water knows I'm not just Furina anymore. It knows I remember the audience.
She closed the book and glanced at the city lights outside.The reflections on the canal surface rippled once, like a wink.