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The waters of Fontaine had risen, just as the prophecy foretold, swallowing the city whole with a cruel inevitability. What had once been a thriving metropolis, known for its grand courts and bustling streets, was now lost beneath a vast, unyielding tide. The sky, which once boasted a brilliant azure, had darkened to a deep, oppressive shade of melancholy, mirroring the despair that had settled over the land like a funeral shroud. The prophecy had always loomed like a specter over the people of Fontaine, a grim reminder of an unavoidable fate. Now, that fate had come to pass, and the world they knew was drowned beneath the unforgiving waves.
In the heart of the city, within the grand hall that had once echoed with the sounds of lively debate, laughter, and the voices of the people, Focalors, the Hydro Archon, sat on her throne. The weight of her failure pressed down on her like an anchor, pulling her into the abyss of her own despair. The hall, once a place of grandeur and life, was now filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the soft, insidious whisper of water creeping ever higher against the walls.
Focalors had fought with every ounce of her being to prevent the prophecy's fulfillment. She had pleaded with the stars, delved into ancient tomes, and even sought counsel from the other Archons. But it was all in vain. The prophecy was a force that could not be altered, a truth that could not be denied. And now, in the drowning remains of her beloved city, she was the last one left—except for Furina.
Furina, her beloved; the one who completed her in ways no one else could; her other half. But unlike Focalors, Furina was painfully, tragically mortal. It was Furina she had fought hardest to protect, the one she had hoped against hope the waters might somehow spare. But as the sea continued its relentless ascent, there was no more room for hope, no more illusions to cling to. The truth was as cold and unyielding as the waters that now encircled them.
Focalors clutched Furina close, her arms wrapped tightly around the girl’s trembling form. Furina felt so small, so fragile in her embrace, her once vibrant spirit dimmed by the shadow of the inevitable. The archon could feel her own heart breaking, shattering into a thousand pieces as she looked down at the girl she loved more than anything in the world—more than the world itself.
“I’m... scared.” The words trembled from Furina’s lips, barely more than a fragile whisper. She curled further into Focalors’ embrace, seeking the warmth and security that had always been there but now seemed so fleeting. Her mismatched eyes, once so vibrant and full of life, were wide with fear, glistening with unshed tears. That look—so vulnerable, so utterly terrified—pierced the Archon’s heart like a dagger, twisting with a pain she could scarcely endure.
Focalors tightened her hold instinctively, as if she could somehow anchor Furina against the rising tide that threatened to consume her. She straightened on her throne, her arms encircling Furina with a fierce protectiveness, as if by sheer force of will she could shield her from the impending doom. Every fiber of her being screamed to protect this precious life in her arms, to defy the prophecy and the cruel fate it had decreed. If she just held on tight enough, if her grip was strong enough, maybe—just maybe—Furina wouldn’t dissolve into nothingness, wouldn’t slip away like a dream in the morning light. It was wishful thinking, a desperate hope against the inevitable, but it was all she had left.
The water was rising faster now, lapping at Focalors’ toes with a cold, merciless touch. She could feel the icy tendrils creeping up her legs, a stark reminder of the inescapable end. She shifted further back on her throne, pulling Furina even closer, trying to put as much distance as she could between her beloved and the encroaching sea. But no matter how far she moved, no matter how tightly she held Furina, the water kept coming, relentless and unforgiving.
“It... It won’t hurt, right?” Furina’s voice was small, fragile, tinged with a childlike hope that clashed painfully with the reality they faced. Her gaze searched Focalors’ eyes, seeking reassurance, a promise that everything would be alright. But Focalors knew she couldn’t give her that. The truth was too cruel, too unbearable.
“No, my dear.” The lie slipped from Focalors’ lips with a steadiness that belied the turmoil within. Her voice was soft, soothing, as if she could lull Furina into a sense of peace. But inside, her heart was breaking, shattering with every word. She knew what awaited her human—knew the dissolution would be far from painless. Furina’s body would disintegrate, atom by atom, until there was nothing left but a pearlescent puddle. But how could she let Furina know that? How could she let her die with that knowledge? No, she had to protect her, even if it was only with a comforting lie.
Focalors leaned down, pressing her lips to Furina’s hair, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of the girl she loved more than life itself. She wished she could freeze this moment, hold it suspended in time, and keep Furina safe in her arms forever. But the water was rising, inexorable and merciless, creeping up her ankles now. The cold was seeping into her bones, a bitter reminder of the fates that awaited them. She held Furina tighter, her grip unyielding, as if she could somehow stop the march of time, stop the water, stop the prophecy from claiming the one she loved. But deep down, she knew it was futile.
Furina shivered in Focalors' arms, her once warm and vibrant body growing colder with each passing moment as the water continued its relentless ascent. The frigid waves lapped at her legs, climbing higher, as if determined to swallow them whole. Focalors could feel her own heart hammering in her chest, each beat a frantic, desperate plea that matched the rising panic within her. She was the Hydro Archon, the ruler of all waters, yet here she sat, utterly powerless to stop this catastrophe. The title that once filled her with pride now felt like a cruel joke, a bitter reminder of her failure. She had failed her people, failed her city, and worst of all, she had failed the one she loved most in this world.
“I’m sorry,” Focalors whispered, her voice trembling and breaking under the weight of her sorrow. The words were small, almost lost in the oppressive silence of the flooded throne room, but they carried the depth of her anguish. She was supposed to protect Furina, to keep her safe from harm, to stand as a shield against any and all dangers. But she had failed. The prophecy had come to pass, and there was nothing she could do to stop it, nothing she could do to save the girl in her arms.
Furina looked up at her, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, a mirror of the despair that Focalors felt in her own heart. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice quivering like a fragile leaf in the wind. “You tried. You did everything you could.”
Focalors felt a fresh wave of pain crash over her, almost as tangible as the water that surrounded them. Furina’s words were like a knife, cutting deep into her soul. How could she be so kind, so forgiving, when Focalors had failed her so completely? She didn’t deserve this compassion, this absolution that Furina offered so freely. Not when she had let this happen, not when she had been unable to stop the tide that was going to steal the life from the girl she cherished more than anything.
Focalors shook her head, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over. “No... No, I should have done more. I should have found a way... something, anything...” Her voice cracked, the words coming out as a choked sob.
Furina’s gaze softened, her tears finally breaking free and trailing down her cheeks. She reached up with trembling fingers to brush away Focalors' tears, her touch gentle, almost reverent. “You’ve always done everything for me,” she whispered, her voice laced with both sadness and love. “You’ve given me so much more than I ever deserved. Please, don’t blame yourself.”
But Focalors couldn’t stop the flood of guilt that washed over her, couldn’t silence the voice in her head that screamed she should have been stronger, wiser, more powerful. She had spent centuries guarding over Fontaine, commanding the waters, shaping the destiny of her people. And yet, here she was, unable to save the one person who meant more to her than all the world’s oceans combined.
The water had reached her knees now, the cold biting into her flesh, but Focalors barely noticed. All she could feel was the crushing weight of her failure, the agonizing realization that this was the end. She had failed to stop the prophecy, failed to protect her beloved Furina, and now, all that remained was the cruel inevitability of the sea. She buried her face in Furina’s hair, breathing in her scent one last time, as if she could imprint it in her memory forever.
"I love you," Focalors whispered, her voice quivering as it fought to remain steady, yet betraying the deep chasm of despair threatening to swallow her whole. The words slipped from her lips like a fragile confession, the raw emotion she had been holding back finally spilling out, as unstoppable as the tide that encroached upon them. "I love you so much... I'm so sorry I couldn't save you."
Furina looked up at her, her expression softening into a broken smile, a bittersweet curve of the lips that held a tragic beauty. "I love you too," she murmured, her voice so faint it was almost lost beneath the rhythmic lapping of the water as it rose steadily around them. "And that’s enough. It’s always been enough."
But to Focalors, it wasn't enough. It could never be enough—not when the sea was rising, claiming her nation inch by inch, and time was running out like sand slipping through an hourglass. The inevitability of it all gnawed at her, the bitter taste of helplessness searing her throat. She had failed in her duty as an Archon, but more than that, she had failed in her duty as a lover. And that was a failure she couldn’t bear. She tightened her hold on Furina, feeling the cold, lifeless water rising up to meet them, knowing that it was too late to turn back, too late to change anything.