Weight of Water

In Fontaine’s mist, where waters shine, A god once dreamed of something fine. Furina laughed—a melody bright— But in her chest, it didn’t feel right. Beneath her crown, her heart would ache, Its fragile beat began to break. The whispers hissed, “She’s not divine..!” And doubt seeped in like rising brine. On marble floors, she danced alone, Her steps unsure, her laughter stone. A girl who bore the weight of skies, Hiding tears behind her eyes. The trial came; her mask fell through— No goddess now, just someone true. Focalors’ gift: a life unbound, Her feet at last could touch the ground. She swayed with tides in endless streams, A fleeting wisp of shattered dreams. Yet still she stood—though fragile seemed— Atlas in heels, or so it deemed. Would she endure such heavy chains? To bear their hopes through loss and pains? Or would she falter as one did too, And find her strength in something true? In Furina’s tale, one sees their own— The masks one wear to stand alone. But when one dares to shed disguise, They find one's truths in others’ eyes. -