The river spirits had vanished during the war, retreating to hidden wells and forgotten springs. Without them, water became unpredictable—floods where there should be droughts, silence where there had been songs.
Lucky followed ancient riverstones to the base of Moonthread Falls, singing a song her mother once taught her—a lullaby made of mist and memory.
One by one, the spirits returned. Ethereal forms of liquid silver and blue, eyes like raindrops, voices like bells.
They did not speak at first. They danced.
A spiral of joy and sorrow, grief and gratitude.
And Lucky danced with them, barefoot in the river, as the waters remembered how to sing again.