As tired as she was, the young woman knew they were real. They were hers. If someone had said that to her in any other circumstance—she’d have laughed at them or backed away. But that hadn’t been just a voice. It had been a certainty, in her soul.

She tried to stand.

But she had no strength. She had eaten lunch—a lifetime ago. But dehydration killed faster than starvation. And she had been walking the entire time. Even in the cool darkness—

“[Melody of Droplets]. M-maybe…”

Her mind was believing in the impossible. It was silly. But perhaps—perhaps…she would do anything for a sip of water. So—the girl whispered.

“[Melody of Droplets]. Begin? Activate. Use Skill. Equip. Start…please?”

No response. After a moment, she croaked.

“Inventory. Skill menu. Level menu? Character sheet…thingy? Escape? Control Alt Delete?”

Nothing happened.

She began to cry-laugh, out of frustration, mostly. That she had believed magic could exist. She had been duped. And someone was laughing at her as she died. If only—

Her middle school music teacher called to her from the yawning abyss. A lesson, framed between uncaring voices of her past. Melody.

You need a song for a melody. Melody was a part of a song, rather…

She hesitated. And then squeezed her eyes tight. She tried to sing—but her voice was broken. She was so tired. And the song was a mockery. But she sang anyways. And then, somehow—her voice wasn’t scratched by her dry throat. It was—clear.

Tears trickled from her eyes, as they always did when she listened to it. Just the illusion of tears, as she was too dehydrated. But she sang on.

Everything’s Alright, from To The Moon. A little song to capture the heart. A sad song with hopeful words. To make sense of pain. It mattered more if you had a reason to cry.

The young woman sang it, quietly, as the world faded away.

She would have given anything to see the stars one last time. But no one got what they wanted. Her voice slowed.

The music ended. But the magic didn’t. The song lingered in the air. And as her words echoed in this place of death, she felt a droplet on her head.

A bit of water. Falling from the air.

Slowly, her head rose. Her parched tongue slid out. Hoping—searching.

Another fragment of water fell. A droplet. Materializing in the dry, dusty air. Falling onto her tongue.

She jerked. But the water was real. It could not be. In the dark, she opened her eyes.

A bit of water hit her cheek. She jerked. But it was water. She wiped at it with one hand, licking her finger desperately for the moisture. And then—felt more droplets raining down around her.

Blessed water. It ran from her eyes as she opened up her mouth and the song she had sung conjured a shower.