Star lowered her gaze for a moment.
“She doesn’t react to me like she does to you,” she said softly. “I don’t command her. I listen.”

The runes slowed their trembling, as if agreeing with her. A cold wind swept through the clearing, opening a dark vortex before them. April fell to the ground, surprised and buffeted by the wind, while Star remained motionless, captivated. A blue light ignited in April’s chest, faint but real. Something had awakened within her: a calling, a voice saying her name. Korvath watched intently, while Star smiled briefly, a gesture almost intimate.

April glimpsed her reflection in a polished trunk: her face was no longer entirely human, blue and immersed in water, with wide-open eyes. April felt her knees buckle. That face was not imagining the future. It was remembering it. This was not a power being born. It was something that had waited to be recognized. An echoing voice in her dreams whispered:
“Come…”

Then the reflection vanished, and Star, worried, watched the girl trembling on the ground.
“What… what was that?” April asked, her voice broken.
“The Dark Form is looking for you,” replied Korvath, serious.

Star clenched her fingers along her cloak. April held her stomach, shaken. Star stepped forward, breaking the silence for the first time.
“You have no idea how important you are,” she said softly. April looked at her, surprised.
“What’s your name?” April asked the stranger.
“I am Star… I pass by here often. And I’ve seen you, many times, near the Oztar library. I watched you from afar, hiding among the shelves. I knew one day you would reach me,” the girl replied, blushing. There was no pride in her voice. Only the weariness of someone who had watched over a long time unseen.
“So it was you?” stammered April.
“Yes,” Star smiled, embarrassed.

Korvath, serious, interrupted the conversation:
“Let’s not waste time chatting! It’s not safe to stay here.”

Among the trees, small black shadows rose like living mist, following the awakening of April’s magic. The forest held its breath, and even the runes trembled under their weight. April slowly got up, still shaken, touching her chest.
“You attracted that thing,” the dragon explained.
“It’s your power that moved first.”

Star hesitated for a moment, then said firmly:
“Korvath… asked me to stay with you and teach you magic.”

April looked at her incredulously, eyes wide.
“You? Protect me? And… teach me magic?”

Star shrugged, blushing again. “I’m not very good, I admit. But I’ll try.”

Korvath observed the two girls in silence. The dragon saw bonds forming before they even existed. And this… was one of those destined to change the course of the waters. A warm wind crossed the clearing, and the forest seemed to breathe again, calmer. April watched Star approach. The girl positioned herself close to her, her face almost brushing against hers.
“Someone has to make sure you don’t get lost along the way,” said Star.

Korvath let out a slight roar and added:
“We must go. The Superior will sense this awakening and send more Forms.”

April watched the city of Oztar in the distance, lost in her thoughts. The three of them hid in the forest. April observed her in silence for a few minutes before finding the courage to speak.
“Star?” she murmured.
“Yes?” she replied, without looking away from the fire.
“Can I ask you something?” April asked. Star lifted her curious, soft eyes to her.
“Of course,” Star replied.

A moment of hesitation, then:
“How… did you meet Korvath?”

Star remained still. Not surprised—just… touched. As if that question had opened a door she had kept closed for a long time.
“Oh.” She lowered her gaze for a moment, then smiled softly. “It’s a bit of a strange story,” she said. “I was small. Really small. Maybe five years old.”

Star’s voice did not tremble, but her hands did. Each word was a step back in time, toward a version of herself that had learned too early what it meant to feel too much. She looked at the fire, as if inside it she could still see the image of that night.
“I liked going into the forest alone. Not because I was brave… but because there no one could hear what I felt. The emotions of others were… too strong, too noisy. The forest was the only place breathing at my pace.”

April listened as if every word were a spell. “That evening I was sitting on a trunk, drawing circles in the dirt. And then… I felt it.”
“The call?” asked April.
Star shook her head.
“No. Even before that. I felt the weight of the air change. As if a piece of the sky had fallen behind me.”

April held her breath.
“When I turned around,” Star continued, “he was there. Korvath. A giant, shining blue dragon. His body was so luminous it seemed made of water,” Star recounted.

Star did not answer immediately. The fire in front of them crackled softly, and for a moment April thought she hadn’t heard her.
“Were you afraid?” she repeated.

Star shook her head, almost surprised at herself. “No.”

The words lingered on her lips longer than necessary, as if sliding from a time no longer present. The fire’s sound faded, replaced by an older silence, and the air around her changed its texture. She had not been afraid. The dragon watched her as if listening to something she could not hear. His eyes were deep, hesitant, yet heavy with a weight she could not name. Star held that gaze without knowing why.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

Her voice did not tremble. He stepped forward. Then another. Slowly. As if he feared breaking her. When he was close enough, Star felt the air shift, a subtle current sliding under her skin. Not fear. Respect.
“You feel the flow of the world,” he said. “Too deeply.”

Star lowered her gaze for only a moment, brushing the edge of her cloak. She truly felt something moving inside, like a breath that wasn’t hers.
“Is that a problem?” she asked.

The dragon shook his head. Something akin to a decision made too late passed through his eyes.
“No. It’s a gift.”

He paused. “And that is why I chose you.”

Chosen. The word hung, shapeless.
“For what?” asked Star.

The wind swept through the forest, bending the leaves like water. The man did not answer immediately.
“For someone who will come,” he finally said. “A girl born with the power of water.”

The memory wavered, as if the night itself were closing again. Then came the call. Sleep shattered abruptly. Star rose without knowing why, crossing the forest without recognizing it, driven by an urgency without face or name. She didn’t know what she was looking for. She only knew she had to reach it. When the first cry pierced the silence, the water around her trembled. In that instant she understood. The water-born girl was not a prophecy. She was real.

The crackling of the fire returned suddenly. Star blinked and found herself there, next to April. The silence between them had changed, denser, like freshly fallen snow.
“The night you were born,” she said softly, “that’s when I understood.”

April felt a lump in her throat. “To protect me?”
Star placed her hand on hers. “Yes. From then on… my destiny was never power.” A slight smile. “It was being your first bond.”

April lowered her gaze, overwhelmed. She still didn’t know what she would have to face. But she knew who would walk beside her. Korvath, majestic and silent next to her, vibrated with controlled energy.
“Korvath… how long… have you waited for this moment?” she asked, her voice tinged with emotion.

The dragon lowered his muzzle toward her.
“Since you were born,” he replied calmly.

Star approached, hesitant. April turned to her. Star’s breath brushed April’s skin, a gentle contact that made them both shiver—not from cold, but from the silent intensity between them.
“Star… you found me?”

The violet-haired girl shook her head. “It wasn’t me. It was Korvath, when you were just born.” Star’s eyes shone with ancient memories.
“I felt the first impulse of your vein. Weak, but pure. If the Shadow had sensed it, it would have destroyed you.”

A blue light pulsed in April’s chest. Korvath lowered his muzzle even more, as if to share the moment with her.
“The day you were born, the sky above Oztar opened. A blue line, as wide as a mountain, tore through the clouds. It wasn’t lightning. It was hope.”

Star lowered her gaze, remembering.
“I was just a child… they placed me next to you. You would have drawn darkness even before learning to walk.”

April rose, eyes fixed on Korvath, determined.
“Then… teach me magic. I will learn.”

The dragon nodded, and Star smiled, a smile that combined relief and trust. Shortly after, they flew on Korvath’s back above Oztar. April clutched the dragon’s blue scales, wind in her hair and heart racing.
“Where are we going?” April shouted.

April felt magic boiling in her chest. Every emotion made the branches and water tremble around them. One mistake, and even Korvath could not contain it.
“To show you what happens when power is unguided,” replied Korvath.

Below them, the forest appeared dead. Not burned, not dry… unnaturally dead. April reached out toward a petrified branch and pulled back immediately, the memory of her dreams still vivid in her mind: still water, blue light… impending ruin.

April remembered when, as a child, she played in the stream. The water trembled at her touch, and her mother, frightened, had stepped back… Now, above the petrified forest, the same memory vibrated within her, more real than ever. The water trembled with her; her mother stepped back, frightened, and April never forgot it. Now, looking at the ash-strewn ground, Korvath lowered his head to her level.
“Magic responds to what you feel. It will never lie.”

April clenched her trembling hands. “If I feel the wrong things… does my magic become destructive?”
“It fears what you fear. It will fight as you would fight,” replied the dragon.

Night fell on the clearing. The fine rain pattered on the tent while April sat next to Star. Star remained awake even as April’s breathing became steady. She watched her sleep as one watches a flame: beautiful, alive… and capable of burning everything.

“What if one day I couldn’t stop you?”

The thought made her shiver. It wasn’t fear of losing her. It was fear of surviving her.
“Aren’t you sleeping?” she asked.
“I’m… thinking,” the girl replied, her face lit by distant lightning. April tilted her head.
“What are you thinking about?” asked April.

Star hesitated, then confessed: “About you.” She brought her forehead close to hers, a gentle contact.
“You scare me because… with you I feel too much.”

April inhaled deeply. “And… is that a problem?”
Star smiled faintly. “No. But you have to give me time. Before my magic explodes every time you look at me like that.”

For a moment, both forgot the outside world. Then Star slowly moved away, shifting toward a nearby tree. The sun was setting, dyeing the sky orange and pink.
“After all… I need space,” she thought.

She leaned against the trunk, arms slightly crossed, watching April unaware of her presence. The distance between them grew, but the tension remained palpable: one breath, one heartbeat, the wait before what was yet to happen. April wondered when it had happened. When Star had become home instead of danger, before their first kiss.

The sky above them slowly changed color, oblivious to the destinies it was observing. April and Star remained separated by a few steps, a single breath, a courage neither was yet ready to wield. But the waiting had begun.