I didn’t fall asleep right away. The steady rhythm of the river, the soft rustling of leaves, and the occasional croak of frogs lulled me into a meditative state. The crackle of the campfire faded into the background, replaced by the whispers of the flowing water. My breathing slowed, and my awareness sank deeper into the pulse of the world around me.

As I drifted further into this calm, the world around me began to change. The sounds of the forest and the river became distant, replaced by a soft hum that echoed in my mind. Visions began to flicker before my eyes, faint at first, but growing clearer with each passing moment.

I saw water—beautiful, flowing, and writhing into strange shapes. It twisted and curled in mesmerizing patterns, rising up from the river like tendrils of liquid light. The water coalesced into figures, shapes that danced and shifted, moving with an elegance that was almost hypnotic.

And then, from the depths of the river, a group of fish emerged. But these weren’t just any fish. Their scales shimmered with an ethereal glow, and they moved with an intelligence that sent a shiver down my spine. They swam gracefully through the flowing water shapes, their bodies bending and twisting in perfect harmony with the liquid forms around them.

I watched, entranced, as the fish began to circle me. Their movements seemed purposeful, as if they were trying to communicate something. They swam in intricate patterns, spirals and loops that felt like the words of a language I couldn’t quite understand. Their shimmering bodies reflected the moonlight, casting strange, mystical shadows across the surface of the water.

I felt a pull, an almost magnetic connection to these creatures. The shapes they formed seemed to pulse with energy, and I could sense they were trying to tell me something—something important, something just beyond my reach. I strained to grasp the meaning of their dance, but their words, their message, remained just on the edge of comprehensibility.

It was like listening to a language I had once known, long forgotten. I could feel their intent, their urgency, but the meaning slipped through my fingers like the very water they swam through. The fish paused, hovering in the air before me, their eyes locked onto mine. There was an unspoken understanding, an invitation of sorts. I didn’t know what they were trying to say, but I knew I needed to listen.

I reached out with my mind, trying to connect, trying to bridge the gap between us. I could feel the energy of the river, of the fish, flowing through me. And in that moment, I realized something profound: they weren’t just trying to communicate—they were trying to teach me.

There was wisdom in the flow of the water, in the dance of the fish, a knowledge older than time itself. But the vision blurred, and I felt myself being pulled back, the connection slipping through my fingers like sand. The fish faded, their glow dimming as the world around me came back into focus.

I opened my eyes, the campfire crackling softly beside me, the river’s current still whispering its eternal song. But now, there was something more in the air—a presence, a sense of the river’s deeper life force, of the creatures that lived within it, watching, waiting, guiding.

There was a soft flopping sound by the river's edge. I looked over and saw the unmistakable gleam of golden scales catching the moonlight. A goldfish, of all things, lay there, struggling on the shore.

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"Was that you, little guy?" I asked softly, taking a few steps closer.

The fish burbled weakly, its gills flaring as it flopped again. It was surreal—goldfish weren’t native to the river, and I hadn’t seen one since the Lightning Fall. It seemed impossibly out of place here in the wilds, like a forgotten piece of the old world.

Curiosity got the better of me. I kneeled down at the water's edge, extending a cautious hand toward the shimmering creature. The goldfish didn’t move away. Instead, it remained still, as if waiting for something. My fingers brushed against its scales, feeling the cool, wet texture of its body. The sensation was oddly comforting, a reminder of simpler times.

As I touched it, the goldfish twitched, but not in fear or pain. There was something else. It tilted its head, staring at me with wide, unblinking eyes, its mouth opening and closing as if trying to speak. A strange feeling washed over me—this fish was no ordinary animal.

"You've been in the water this whole time, haven’t you?" I whispered, almost to myself.

The goldfish flopped again, this time more deliberately, its body moving in slow, fluid motions. For a brief moment, I thought I saw a faint glow emanating from beneath its scales, a flicker of magic pulsing through it.

I furrowed my brow, my mind racing. Could this goldfish have been affected by the mana increase, just like everything else? It wasn’t impossible. I had seen stranger things since the fall of the Lightning, but this... this felt different. It felt intentional.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

The goldfish’s eyes locked onto mine, and for a fleeting second, I thought I heard a voice—a quiet, distant echo carried on the wind. It was faint, almost imperceptible, like a dream slipping away just before you wake.

I leaned in closer, my hand still resting gently on its scales. The river flowed steadily beside us, the sound of the water calming, yet there was an energy here that I couldn’t ignore.

The goldfish flopped again, but this time it wasn’t a random movement. It seemed purposeful, like it was urging me to listen, to understand something that I wasn’t quite grasping yet. There was magic in this moment, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this little goldfish was connected to the visions I had seen earlier.

With a final flick of its tail, the goldfish wiggled free from my hand and flopped back into the water, disappearing beneath the surface in an instant.

I was a little disappointed that the little guy had left.

Before the disappointment could grow bigger, the little guy came back. And this time he had friends.

I kneeled down. “Hey, do you guys want to come with me? I have a place you can chill.”

I smiled at the little goldfish as it wiggled its flipper. There was something oddly comforting about the whole situation. I had always found fish to be calming, even before the world changed, and now, it seemed they were eager to join me.

"Hold on," I told him.

I looked around the area, trying to find something to carry the fish in. Unfortunately, the riverbank was bare—no discarded containers, no hollowed-out logs, nothing that would work. I sighed.

But then, an idea hit me. I knelt by the riverbank, focusing on the scattered stones and river rocks near the shore. These weren’t just ordinary rocks anymore. Ever since mana flooded the world, even the most mundane objects seemed to hold a certain energy. I could feel it pulsing faintly beneath my hands.

Using my connection to the earth, I focused, letting mana flow from me into the stones. I envisioned a large, sturdy bowl, something simple yet functional. The rocks responded almost immediately, vibrating softly as they began to shift and form under my guidance. Slowly, they fused together, their rough surfaces smoothing out as they shaped themselves into a wide, shallow bowl—perfect for carrying my new friends.

I stood back and admired the creation. "Not bad," I said to myself before turning back to the goldfish. "Okay, little guy, you and your friends ready to hop in?"

The first goldfish flopped excitedly, and before long, all of them were swimming around in their new portable home.

"Alright, let’s head back," I said with a smile, gently lifting the bowl filled with water and fish. "I think you guys are going to like the shard."