The grandeur of the Opera Epiclese stood starkly against the encroaching shadows of night, its intricate marble columns and ornate golden accents now empty of the audience that had once filled the space. The grand stage, usually a platform for grandiose performances and sweeping tales of triumph, now bore witness to a far more personal and devastating drama. Furina, the Hydro Archon of Fontaine, stood on the polished floor, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she faced Arlecchino—the Knave, a member of the Fatui Harbingers—who stood with cold, unflinching composure.

The air was thick with tension, a palpable charge that had built up between them since the trial. Furina's once vibrant and commanding aura had dulled, her connection to the very element she once wielded slipping through her grasp like water through cupped hands. The gnosis was gone—stolen by Arlecchino, her betrayal cutting deeper than any blade.

The trial had been chaotic, the people of Fontaine fractured in their trust, but none of that compared to the void Furina felt now. Her gnosis, the source of her divine power, had been taken from her. The ocean itself no longer answered to her call, and now, she stood powerless before her enemy.

Furina's voice trembled, not with fear but with the weight of loss. "You... took everything," she spat, her eyes narrowing as she held her side where the gnosis had been ripped from her. She could feel the gaping emptiness in her chest, the lack of connection to the waters of Fontaine that had once been her very essence. "Why? For what purpose? Fontaine is my responsibility, my people—"

Arlecchino's expression remained cold, her crimson eyes devoid of any emotion as she twirled the blade in her hand, now slick with blood from their earlier clash. "Your people," she mocked, her voice low, almost a growl. "You say you lead them, but you've been nothing more than a puppet. Weak. Vulnerable. Fontaine deserves more than an Archon who can't even protect her own gnosis."

The mention of her weakness was a knife in Furina's heart. She had ruled Fontaine for centuries, had fought to maintain its balance, had given her all to keep her people safe. But now, stripped of her power, she felt like a mere mortal—a fragile figure, grasping at the remnants of her authority.

"Give it back!" Furina demanded, her voice trembling with desperation, yet there was an undercurrent of resolve. She summoned what little control she had left over her power, attempting to call upon the water that had once been her ally. But the response was faint, sluggish—barely a ripple in the air. She was fighting a losing battle, and she knew it.

Arlecchino sneered, her lips curling into a cruel smile. "You're no longer an Archon, Furina. You're just a broken figurehead, clinging to a power that was never truly yours." She stepped forward, her boots echoing ominously across the empty theater floor. "It's time Fontaine found a real leader."

Furina staggered back, her heart racing as she realized the gravity of the situation. This wasn't just a battle for her gnosis. Arlecchino intended to overthrow her completely, to take control of Fontaine and reshape it according to her own dark ambitions. And with the gnosis in her hands, there was little Furina could do to stop her.

But she wouldn't give up. Not yet.

With a determined cry, Furina lunged forward, her hand outstretched as she attempted to channel what little hydro power she had left. A weak torrent of water surged toward Arlecchino, but it was pitiful compared to the strength she had once commanded. Arlecchino easily deflected the attack with a swipe of her sword, the water splashing harmlessly to the ground.

"Pathetic," Arlecchino muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

Furina's heart sank as she stumbled back, her legs trembling from exhaustion. Her vision blurred for a moment, and the weight of the fight pressed down on her shoulders. She could feel herself weakening with every passing second, her once-unbreakable connection to hydro slipping further away.

Arlecchino advanced, her scythe gleaming in the dim light of the theater. "I'll do what you never could," she said coldly, her eyes gleaming with dangerous intent. "I'll awaken Celesta and the heavenly principles to restore order and justice to this world..."

"You don't understand," Furina gasped, clutching her chest as she fought to stay upright. Her eyes burned with a mixture of anger and grief. "You can't awaken. The people... they made this world prosper and joyful! If you were to do that, you might as well be hoping for another archon war!"

Arlecchino's face remained a mask of indifference, but there was a flicker of something darker beneath the surface. "War? No, Furina. This is about survival. These nations were meant for so much more . It's time for change."

Before Furina could react, Arlecchino lunged forward, her polearm flashing through the air. Furina moved to block, but she was too slow, her weakened body unable to keep up. The sword cut deep into her side, and she cried out in pain, collapsing to the ground.

Blood pooled beneath her, staining the once-pristine floor of the theater. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her vision swimming as the edges of her consciousness began to blur. She could barely feel the cold marble beneath her fingertips as she lay there, her life slowly slipping away.

As she lay dying, her mind drifted. Images flashed before her eyes—moments from her past, fragments of a life that felt so distant now. The people of Fontaine, their laughter, their trust. Neuvillette's stoic gaze, his unspoken support. The rising waters of Fontaine that she had fought so hard to control. And the gnosis—the very heart of her power—now lost.

Through her haze, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Neuvillette had entered the theater, his expression calm but his eyes betraying the storm of emotions beneath the surface. He was ushering the remaining people out, keeping them safe as the battle raged on. His presence was a steadying force, even in the face of the chaos that had unfolded.

But Furina's gaze shifted to Arlecchino, who was calmly walking toward the exit, her scythe still slick with blood. There was no satisfaction in her expression, no sign of triumph. Her face was blank, as if the fight had meant nothing to her. Blood from Furina's wound stained her cheek, but she didn't even wipe it away. She simply walked out, disappearing into the shadows without a word.

Neuvillette approached Furina slowly, his face a mask of quiet pain as he knelt beside her. "Furina," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

She struggled to focus on him, her vision fading in and out. "I... failed them," she choked out, her voice weak.

Neuvillette's expression softened, his hand gently brushing against her shoulder. "No. You did everything you could." His voice was steady, but there was a hint of sorrow in his words.

As the last of the people of Fontaine were safely evacuated, Neuvillette turned his attention back to the city. The water levels had risen dangerously high, threatening to flood the streets and consume the city. But Furina, in her final moments, found a strange sense of peace. She had always feared this—losing control, letting the waters claim everything. But now, as she lay dying, she realized that control had never been hers to hold in the first place.

Neuvillette stood, his gaze fixed on the rising waters. For a moment, he hesitated, as if grappling with a decision. But then, with a deep breath, he raised his hands, and the waters began to recede. His power, once used sparingly, now flowed freely as he commanded the seas to withdraw, saving Fontaine from certain destruction.

"I forgive them," Neuvillette said quietly, his voice carrying through the theater. "For their sins. For their fear. They are but humans, and they do not always understand the consequences of their actions."

Furina, in her fading consciousness, heard his words and smiled weakly. The people of Fontaine had been forgiven. Neuvillette had spared them, even in their doubt and anger. It was a small comfort in her final moments, knowing that her city would survive, even if she would not.

With one last, shuddering breath, Furina closed her eyes. The world grew quiet around her, and the waters, once wild and uncontrollable, finally stilled.

——————> Arleechino pov:

Arlecchino's breath came steadily, not even a hint of exertion showing on her face as she stood in the vast, empty Opera Epiclese. The golden light from the chandeliers flickered slightly, casting long shadows across the marble floor as her gaze settled on Furina. The former Hydro Archon was barely standing now, her once-immaculate robes torn and stained with blood. Every shallow breath the woman took was a reminder of how fragile she had become.

This is what Fontaine has relied on? Arlecchino thought with quiet disdain. Her grip on the hilt of her polearm tightened, its edge still gleaming with Furina's blood.

The gnosis—the ultimate prize—was already secure in her possession, hidden safely in her coat. And yet, the Archon still fought, still begged for her power back as if her mere words could sway the tides of fate. She began to re-play the event, knowing that her chance of ever truly loving anyone, was now slim like the grasp she had on her own life form.

She took a slow, deliberate step forward, her boots clicking against the marble, the sound echoing through the hollow space of the empty theater. There was no audience to witness this final act. No one left to see the Archon fall.

"Give it back!" Furina's voice trembled, but the desperation behind it was palpable. Her once bright, commanding presence was reduced to a flickering flame, barely holding on.

Arlecchino paused, her lips curling into a bitter smile. Give it back? There was no giving it back. The gnosis had been taken, wrested from the Archon's feeble grip as easily as one plucks a flower from its stem. And now, Fontaine was hers to control.

"You still don't understand," Arlecchino said coldly, her eyes narrowing as she watched Furina stumble. "The gnosis is not yours. It never was. Your reign was built on borrowed power. Now, Fontaine will finally be free from your weakness."

There was no malice in her words—just a flat, factual statement. Arlecchino didn't need to gloat or rage. To her, this was simply the logical conclusion of events. Furina had never been fit to rule. She was little more than a figurehead, hiding behind her titles, letting the waters of Fontaine swell uncontrollably beneath her feet.

Arlecchino had long watched from the shadows, biding her time, waiting for the right moment to strike. And now, with the gnosis in her possession, she would reshape Fontaine in her image. No more fragile balance, no more indecision. Only strength and control.

Furina's weak hydro attack splashed against Arlecchino's spear , the water evaporating before it could even reach her. She barely reacted to the feeble attempt. It was pitiful—like watching a wounded animal lash out in its final moments.

Patience wearing thin, Arlecchino stepped forward again, her blade poised to end the fight once and for all. Furina's body swayed, her eyes wide with the realization that this was it. That her end had come.

And still, she fights.

Arlecchino admired Furina's stubbornness for a moment, but it was pointless. The outcome had been decided the moment the gnosis was taken. Arlecchino raised her sword and, with a swift, precise motion, struck Furina down. The blade cut deep into the Archon's side, the sound of metal slicing through flesh reverberating through the empty theater.

Furina cried out, collapsing to the ground as blood pooled around her. Her breathing grew ragged, and Arlecchino could see the life draining from her eyes. For a moment, the Knave stood over her, watching as the once-mighty Archon clung desperately to the last threads of consciousness.

The theater was eerily silent now, save for the distant murmur of water outside. Fontaine was on the brink of disaster, its waters rising as Furina's control slipped. But that didn't concern Arlecchino. She would handle it. Once she consolidated her power, Fontaine would no longer be at the mercy of an Archon's whims.

Turning away from the fallen Archon, Arlecchino wiped her bloodied blade against the fabric of her coat, indifferent to the crimson stains. There was no satisfaction, no triumph in her movements. This was just another step in her plan. Another obstacle removed.

As she made her way toward the exit, she heard the faint, approaching footsteps of Neuvillette. The Chief Justice—always so calm, so composed—entered the theater, his face an unreadable mask. Arlecchino didn't look back as he rushed toward Furina's side. There was no need. She had already won.

"There so much more we could have been... if only you had complied, rather fighting for the worthless life of which you hold so dear..." arlecchino layed a rose next to her and began to walk away, her foot in front of the other.

Neuvillette's presence meant little to her. He was focused on evacuating the people, on saving those he could. She respected that in a way. He was bound by duty, much like herself, though his motivations were far more sentimental.

Arlecchino passed by Neuvillette without a word, her steps measured and steady. She felt his eyes on her, but when she glanced in his direction, his face betrayed nothing. His focus was on Furina, whose shallow breaths were growing weaker by the second.

For a brief moment, Arlecchino considered the possibility that Neuvillette would try to stop her. But he didn't. He let her walk out without so much as a glance. His priorities were elsewhere, as they should be.

As she left the theater, the cool night air hit her face, and she could still feel the dampness of Furina's blood on her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe it away. It was unimportant now. The gnosis was secure, and Fontaine's fate was sealed. The Archon was dead—or soon would be—and the city would face a new reality.

As Arlecchino walked through the empty streets of Fontaine, her thoughts were calm, methodical. There was no regret, no second-guessing. She had done what needed to be done. Fontaine had been stagnating under Furina's weak leadership, and now, the city would be shaped by her will.

The gnosis pulsed faintly within her coat, a reminder of the power she now wielded. But power was only a tool—a means to an end. Fontaine's true transformation would come not from divine intervention, but from Arlecchino's unrelenting vision.

And as for the people of Fontaine? She had no love for them. Their fate, in the grand scheme of things, was insignificant. They would adapt, or they would fall. Either way, the Knave had no intention of stopping until the nation bent to her will.

Behind her, the theater doors creaked shut, and Arlecchino's figure disappeared into the the chaos of the dirty sky, leaving nothing but the distant sound of water lapping against the city's edges and the fading cries of a dying Archon.

——————> Neuvillette pov

Neuvillette stood at the steps of the Opera Epiclese, his robes billowing slightly in the cool breeze as the chaos of Fontaine unfolded around him. The rising waters had driven people into a panic, their cries echoing through the city as the streets flooded, and the harbor swelled under the weight of the sea. It was his duty to maintain order, to guide them to safety, but something gnawed at the back of his mind—a lingering unease that he could not ignore.

He had sent guards and officials to every corner of the city to manage the evacuation, directing the people toward higher ground. The citizens of Fontaine, though panicked, trusted in him to lead them. Even now, as he stood in the heart of the city, his presence was a calming force amidst the turmoil. Yet, the more he watched the hurried movements of the people, the more the unease in his chest grew.

Furina was missing.

He hadn't seen her since the trial, where tensions had run high, and the weight of Fontaine's fate had pressed heavily upon them all. Afterward, when the city began to flood, he expected to find her at the center of it all—issuing commands, controlling the situation, being the Hydro Archon she once was. But Furina had disappeared, leaving a hollow absence in her place. Ever since the trial had ended not so long ago, she seemed like an entirely different person. Even with his interaction with the real hydro archon,and gaining the fully authority over the element of hydro, his perspective on the way Fontaine ran, change drastically. He couldn't even imagine what Furina was going through,losing her divinity,her power, her respect of the people.

His eyes narrowed, scanning the streets for any sign of her, though deep down, he knew she wouldn't be here among the citizens. Furina wasn't one to hide from her responsibilities, even if she had been struggling lately, retreating into herself more and more as the pressures of her role weighed on her. But to vanish entirely in a time of crisis? No, something was wrong.

"Chief Justice!" A soldier rushed up to him, saluting sharply. "The people are moving toward the safe zones, but the water is rising faster than anticipated. We need to redirect more resources."

Neuvillette nodded, his focus momentarily drawn back to the crisis at hand. "Ensure that no one is left behind. Take the northern route. It leads to higher ground more quickly. Find the Spina Du Rosa for extra help. Or ask my husband, The Duke of The Fortress of Meropide, he should be of use!"

The soldier saluted again and sprinted off, but Neuvillette's thoughts had already drifted back to Furina. Where was she? He could feel the tug of the waters, hear their angry roar, but it was different now. Unstable. It was as if the very sea itself was rebelling against the city, as if it no longer had a master to command it.

Furina should be here...

he thought grimly. And yet, she wasn't.

The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. Furina, who had always stood at the center of Fontaine's watery dominion, he didn't see her rush out when the waters started to rise..

His heart quickened. The Opera Epiclese. The last place he had seen her was near the theater, and if she had gone there...

Without another moment's hesitation, Neuvillette turned and strode toward the Opera Epiclese, his pace quickening with each step. The grand structure loomed ahead, its golden arches and elegant architecture standing in stark contrast to the rising waters that lapped at its steps. As he approached, the sound of the city began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence that clung to the theater like a shroud.

The large, ornate doors were slightly ajar. A cold sense of dread settled in his stomach.

Neuvillette pushed the doors open fully and stepped inside, the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on him as he entered. The grand theater was empty, the audience long gone. The seats were vacant, the chandeliers casting long, flickering shadows on the floor. But the stage—there was something wrong with the stage.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw it: Furina, collapsed in a pool of blood.

His breath caught in his throat, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, panic seized him. He rushed toward the stage, his usually calm, measured steps replaced by the frantic sound of his boots echoing through the empty hall. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a heavy drum as he approached her crumpled form.

"Furina..."

Her name escaped his lips, a whisper of disbelief. This couldn't be real. The once proud, re-nowned Hydro Archon, layed before him, her robes torn and soaked in her own blood. Her face was pale, and her eyes—once full of fire and pride—were half-closed, unfocused, barely clinging to life.

Neuvillette knelt beside her, his hands hovering uncertainly above her body. He didn't know where to touch, where to begin. Blood soaked the marble floor beneath her, the deep red stark against the white of the stage.

"Furina, can you hear me?" His voice was low, calm, but inside, a storm raged.

Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She was trying to speak, to tell him something, but the effort seemed too great. Neuvillette's hand hovered near her face for a moment before he brushed a strand of hair away from her blood-splattered cheek.

"Don't try to speak," he said softly, though the command was as much for his benefit as for hers. He didn't want to hear what she might say. He didn't want to acknowledge the weight of what was happening.

His gaze shifted, and that's when he saw it. The glint of a sword lying a few feet away, its edge smeared with blood. And then, he noticed the figure moving toward the exit. Hearing the soft clank of heels walking against the brown, wooden flooring.

Arlecchino.

Her presence was a sharp contrast to the scene around her. Her face was impassive, as though nothing of significance had just occurred, but Neuvillette could see the blood staining her cheek and the polearm she carried. It was Furina's blood...

Arlecchino glanced his way for the briefest of moments, her expression unreadable, before continuing her stride toward the exit, disappearing into the shadows of the theater.

For a moment, Neuvillette considered going after her, demanding answers, holding her accountable for what had happened here. But he couldn't leave Furina. Not now. Not like this.

Instead, he turned back to the Archon lying before him, his hands finally pressing gently against her wounds, trying to stem the bleeding, though he knew it was futile. The gnosis—her connection—was gone. She had no control over the element now, no power to heal herself. She was fading, slipping away, and he was powerless to stop it. Even if he was The Dragon of Hydro, the ultimate being of the element.

He could feel the guilt beginning to creep in, wrapping around his chest like a vice. He should have been here. He should have realized sooner. How had it come to this? Furina, the embodiment of Fontaine's very soul, struck down in an empty theater, abandoned by the very people she had once ruled.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, though he wasn't even sure if she could hear him. "I should have... I should have protected you." Furina was like a younger sister to him, a person very special to him. He couldn't even wrap his head around the thought of losing her.

Her breathing was shallow, each breath coming slower than the last, but her eyes, half-lidded and glassy, managed to meet his for a brief second. There was something there, some final flicker of life, of emotion—whether it was forgiveness or sorrow, he couldn't tell.

Outside, he could hear the distant roar of the rising waters. The city was still drowning, the people still suffering, but here, in this moment, all that mattered was Furina. She lifted her

Neuvillette closed his eyes for a brief second, his mind racing. He had to do something. He had to help her, but the gnosis—without it, she was no longer connected to the element she had once commanded. She was mortal, fragile, and slipping away.

But the people—he had promised to protect them too.

Torn between his duty to the city and the woman lying before him, Neuvillette felt the weight of his role press down on him like never before. He had always carried Fontaine on his shoulders, but now, with the waters rising and Furina dying, the burden felt unbearable.

Taking a deep breath, he stood, his eyes hardening with resolve. The people of Fontaine were innocent. They had made mistakes, they had sinned, but they didn't deserve to drown for it. And Furina—she had tried, in her own way, to protect them too.

Neuvillette looked down at Furina one last time, his hand gently brushing against her forehead in a silent farewell. "I will save them. For you."

With that, he turned and strode toward the doors of the theater, his heart heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. But he would not let the people of Fontaine suffer for their sins. He would forgive them, as Furina had always intended.

And when the waters finally receded, Fontaine would remember this day—not as the day their Archon fell, but as the day they were saved of the sin that long haunted the waters surrounding the nation; Fontaine, land of Justice and Hydro...

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IM SO SORRY FOR THE LATE CHAPER 🙏🏾PLS FORGIVE IM SORRY! But yes...😕 arlecchino did kill furina BUT SNEAK PEEK FOR NEXT CHAPTER!👇🏾👇🏾😜
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Why did you take it... I thought you loved me...

Furina thought as it echoed through her mind, her chest tightening with the weight of betrayal and sorrow. Her vision blurred as she watched her best friend—or rather, the person she calls her brother—run away tearfully. He wasn't fleeing in cowardice; he was running to save the people of Fontaine, leaving her behind in the growing silence of the theater.

Furina's gaze followed his retreating figure until he disappeared from view, the world around her growing hazy and dim. Her body ached, and she could feel the warmth of her own blood pooling beneath her, a grim reminder of how powerless she had become. As the Grand stage around her begun to crumble, and flood with the tears of the sea, she began to feel a feeling of relief. Relieved to be human, even if it was only for a short while.

As her vision faded, a figure stepped into view. A woman with flowing dark blue hair, each strand cascading like the calmest depths of the ocean, knelt down beside her. She was cloaked in an ethereal, white crystal hood, the edges shimmering like frost kissed by moonlight. The hood covered most of her face, but through the dim light, Furina could see the woman's lips curl into a small, tender smile.

There was something about her presence—an aura that seemed to glow with a soft, comforting radiance, as though she carried the warmth of a thousand stars within her. The air around Furina felt lighter, the crushing weight of pain momentarily eased by the gentle, nurturing presence of the mysterious woman.

"It's not your time, little one," the woman a whispered, her voice soft and melodic, as if it were carried by the waves themselves. "Your journey has only just begun..."

Furina wanted to respond, to reach out, to understand who this woman was and why she felt so safe in her presence. But her eyelids had grown impossibly heavy, each breath more shallow than the last. The world around her was slipping away, the sounds of the rising waters and the distant cries of the city fading into nothingness.

With a final, fragile breath, Furina closed her eyes, her body surrendering to the exhaustion that had taken hold. She let go, the world she had once longed to be a part of, slipped from her grasp. Yet, in that final moment, enveloped in the warmth of the woman's light, there was no fear. Only peace.

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I'm so sorry for the long wait💔🙏🏾pls forgive me but yea this isn't the end (I should just end it..here/j) I'm too nice and we are almost at 500 reads! Omg! I'm supper grateful. I'm trying guys..ok.. I love yall</3! Ty my lake Lillie's<3!

-Yours Truly, Lady Furina De Fontaine

-4669 words<3!