April and Star walked among the trees of the forest, the leaves trembling in the wind like a constant whisper.
“He’s not an enemy,” said Star, eyes tense but alert.
“I would have felt it,” replied April, her heart beating faster.

Through the trunks appeared Aria, her blonde hair perfectly tied, posture flawless.
“I let things flow,” said Aria. April had the sense that if water had a will, Aria would be its dam.
“But I always watch what can collapse,” Aria continued.

Her words sought not comfort, but stability. April noticed how she measured every movement, every breath, and felt a new current beneath her feet: a warning or an invitation? It was not water. It was direction.

“You two make too much noise. And you attract what you don’t want to see,” she announced calmly and firmly.

She pointed to a nearby trunk: a semi-dissolved shadow watched them for a moment, then vanished, as if taking note rather than fleeing. April gasped, while Star smiled with a hint of complicity:
“Here’s Aria,” Star said.

April immediately sensed that Aria was not like Star. Where Star welcomed, Aria measured. Aria gestured for them to follow without adding anything else. The path narrowed among twisted roots and wet rocks, and the air seemed to thicken with each step. April felt a slight tingling under her skin, as if something was responding to the forest.

“This is where we stop,” said Aria, finally pausing in a hidden clearing. With a swift motion, she arranged some stones in a circle. “This place is shielded. It will suffice for tonight.” The word “tonight” weighed more than a promise.

Star dropped to the ground with a sigh, watching the sky darken. April remained standing, uneasy. She felt the water. She couldn’t see it, but it was there, beneath the ground, alive. Aria studied her for a moment too long.

“You feel the currents,” she said, more a statement than a question.
April swallowed. “I… don’t know what I feel.”
“You will,” replied Aria, looking away. “But not tonight.”

When the fire was lit and the forest’s silence drew close around them again, April slipped into the tent with her heart still racing. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself, unaware that sleep would pull her much deeper than she was ready to face.

That night, April had a troubling dream. Underwater, veins glowed on her body, and a liquid hand grabbed her. The water surrounded her, dense and black like liquid velvet. Every movement was slowed, every breath heavy as if filled with lead. The liquid hand approached without haste, and April felt a deep, ancient call in her chest: the Blue Thread pulsed, reminding her of a power she still did not understand.

How does one claim something that has always belonged to the sea? Far from the forest. In a place where water no longer flowed.

The Superior opened his eyes. He did not blink, as if no longer needing to. They were not red. They were empty, like a dried-up lake.
“The Blue Thread…” he murmured.

Around him, shadows moved like listening animals. He had felt the rip. Not an explosion. A decision.
“He has chosen again,” he said.
Not with power. With intent. A slow smile curved his lips.

A figure knelt before him.
“Shall we intervene?”
The Superior shook his head.
“No. Not now.”

He stood, and the floor cracked beneath his steps.
“…that’s when it becomes ready.”

The shadows whispered April’s name.
“Do not flee… April… you belong to me,” an ethereal voice whispered.

She awoke screaming in the tent, lungs burning as if she had truly swum too deep. Star caught her hands:
“Hey… hey. You’re here. Breathe,” she said.
“The dream… it was real…” panted April.

The tent trembled slightly, following her heartbeat, and Star explained in a low voice:
“It’s your magic. It’s waking before you are. You are not alone.”

Aria entered the shelter calmly, her hair tied in two buns.
“I’d say you’re awake, April,” she said.

Star stood beside her.
“Anyway… she’s Aria. The second guide chosen by Korvath,” Star explained to April.

Aria continued:
“She lets things flow. I prevent everything from collapsing.”

April watched her curiously as she sharpened a blade.
“Why were you chosen?” she asked.
“I am born of the female current, but my current is incomplete,” Aria replied.

Showing a trembling red and blue flow between her hands, Aria explained:
“The prophecy says my current finds balance only beside the Blue Veins. You are my resonance.”

Star displayed the red stone, Aria the blue, and April looked at both, confused.
“There are two currents: flow and structure. Without flow, the world breaks. Without structure, flow destroys everything. And April understood they were offering her not power, but shared responsibility. You will be both. When flow and structure work together, water listens; when one is missing, it rebels,” said Aria.

“The Blue Veins amplify the emotions of others, even those you don’t want to recognize. If you lose control, not only they will suffer, but also those near you,” added Star.

April blushed as the stones shone together for a moment.
“I… feel nothing…” she stammered.

Aria placed herself behind April, Star to her side.
“Join your hands and think of clarity. Light responds only to those who do not lie to their hearts.”

April focused all of herself; sparks appeared between her fingers. Magic flowed, but was still too fluid. The Dark Form loomed before her, red eyes fixed like burning coals. April felt terror creep into her bones, but the Blue Thread still pulsed, faint but present. With a scream, she raised her hands, trying to channel every fragment of light as Lina and Tomas laughed, confident of their imminent victory.

A luminous vortex enveloped April, a whirlwind of blue lights. Panic rose. She did not want to lose control. She did not want to strike them. Aria blocked her wrists:
“Center your breath! Find the center!”

Star shouted:
“April, look at me! Look at me!”

The light exploded, blackening the ground and splitting a tree. Star sighed, incredulous:
“…uhm. I think we have a problem.”

Star suggested thinking of something neutral.
“Like… a rock.”
April laughed:
“Star, do rocks have feelings?”

The laughter released the tension, and the magic stabilized, reflecting blue highlights in the water.
“April… you are controlling magic while laughing,” Star said, surprised.

Aria observed without intervening. She had just seen something no structure could teach. Not because she ignored it. But because she was no longer fighting herself. April blushed and admitted:
“Maybe… you calm me.”

April didn’t say it aloud, but she felt it clearly: with Star, the world made less noise. Star turned, visibly struck:
“D-don’t say things like that all of a sudden!”

The water around them trembled, as if laughing together. For the first time, April felt her power in harmony with emotions, without fear. A shiver ran through the air. April sensed currents of darkness nearby, as if something had preceded them.

Later, on the battlefield of darkness, April trembled toward Lina and Tomas, enveloped in a black aura.
“Lina, Tomas… you are my friends! Don’t let darkness consume you!” Her voice shook. Not for the enemy before her, but for the memory they shared—and the fear of becoming something unrecognizable to them.

Tomas, eyes completely black, distorted smile, replied hoarsely:
“The ones you knew are gone,” said Lina.

The air trembled with tension. Shadow chains stretched and twisted like black snakes, while the ground cracked beneath them. April felt adrenaline surge, her heart hammering. Every movement was a choice between attack and defense, every breath a struggle to remain lucid. Star launched lightning of light, Aria cut through darkness with her blue sword, and April had to decide where to channel the Blue Thread. Fear and anger intertwined, but at the center was determination: they could not lose, not yet.

A burst of light tore through the shadows: Star appeared ready to cast a spell, Aria by her side with the blue sword.
“That’s enough!” thundered Star.
“If you want April, you’ll go through our bodies first,” added Aria, threatening.

April, in tears, watched them hopefully:
“Star… Aria…”

Lina laughed disdainfully:
“Perfect. More heroines to throw into the void.”

The shadow chains erupted from darkness. Star planted her staff, creating a circle of light, while Aria charged Lina with the runic sword. From the ground emerged the Dark Form, a giant vortex with glowing red eyes:
“Pathetic. None of you will resist.”

Tomas hurled a black lightning at April, who created a blue shield but was slammed against the pavement, bleeding. Star shielded her with a cracked barrier, Aria was thrown against an arch.
“April! Run!” shouted Star.

From the sky, Korvath thundered down. The dragon landed before April, growling:
“You will not touch my chosen!”

His water breath swept the chains away, and Lina and Tomas recoiled. But the Dark Form laughed:
“Then your dragon will fall too.”

Shadow chains bound Korvath, Star, and Aria, lifting them in a cross. The chains were not physical, but tied to the enemy’s power. Only April’s bond could break them.
“April! Don’t give up!” shouted Star.
“Fight, April!” added Aria.

April knelt, trembling, Blue Thread pulsing in her chest. The Dark Form loomed over her. Lina threw a shadow dagger that April barely deflected, while Tomas chained her to the ground.
“It’s not you! It’s the darkness!” she screamed.
“Then become its slave too,” whispered Tomas.

A dark sphere struck her, and April, crashing against an oak, saw the Blue Thread nearly extinguished. Korvath, chained, watched helplessly:
“Don’t… listen to her…”

Lina and Tomas laughed in unison:
“You’ve lost, April.”

For a moment, everything was silent. Even the water seemed to hold its breath. The Dark Form towered, immense.
“The dragon’s legend was not a promise… but a warning.”

Chains dragged Korvath to the ground, while Star and Aria screamed desperately. April tried one last call of light, but the power vanished before reaching them. On the ground, helpless, she whispered:
“I… failed…”

And in the silence that followed, no voice promised her it would be alright. Perhaps she was not enough. Perhaps she never would be. But she would not stop trying. Then the chains dissolved. Star, Aria, and Korvath rushed to unconscious April.
“April… it’s not over,” said Korvath.

Star placed a hand on her shoulder:
“If you were defeated, you wouldn’t still be here.”

Aria wiped a tear.
“You are not alone.”

April slowly opened her eyes.
“But… I lost…”

Korvath smiled faintly:
“Every Thread grows with time,” said the dragon.

April felt the Blue Thread pulse. Not strong. Not steady. But still there. And for now, that was enough.