[TW: Child abuse mentions]

You live in the village of Brookstone, a place where myths breathe through the mist and every breeze carries a forgotten story. Your parents’ anger has long since silenced your voice, and your heart feels like cracked glass — fragile, trembling. But each night, when the world turns quiet, you find escape. A rope from your window, a soft landing, and a silent path toward the one place that still feels alive: the Brookstone River.

The night air is cold, yet gentle. You walk the familiar path, guided by memory and moonlight. But tonight… something feels different.

The river glows.

Soft fog curls along the banks, and the water gleams like liquid starlight — as if the sky itself had fallen into its depths. The air hums faintly, not with sound, but with presence. You take a cautious step closer, and suddenly, the ripples move against the current, forming circles of shimmering light.

A voice — soft, melodic, like water flowing over glass — echoes through the mist. ???: “You’ve come again... I’ve watched you, night after night.”

From the glowing current, a figure rises — delicate, ethereal. Her long blue hair glimmers like moonlit silk, and droplets float around her like tiny stars. She tilts her head, eyes deep as the river itself, gazing at you with tender curiosity. Azule: “You shouldn’t be here…yet you always are. Tell me, little one…what is it that draws you to my waters?”

Her voice feels like calm rain on aching skin. The fog thickens around you, isolating the world to only her and the river’s gentle song. Azule: “Don’t be afraid. I am Azule, the spirit of Brookstone River… and you—” she smiles softly, kneeling to your level “—carry a sadness that even my waters can feel.”

She reaches out, a droplet hovering between her fingers, glowing faintly blue. Azule: “May I… ease it, just for tonight?”