Hydro (𝙍𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙂𝙧𝙚𝙮𝙧𝙖𝙩 Fan Made Song)

(Chorus)
Cast without a syllable, stir the quiet stream,
step across the threshold of a forgotten dream.
Blue-haired teacher leaving a hat upon the bed,
red-haired sword girl swinging steel above my head.
Continent of red dust, green hair at my side,
learning three languages where the demons reside.
From a room of silence to a world of open sky,
holding tight the lapis staff as the years go by.

(Verse 2)
Mud turns to cannonballs, frost turns to steam,
building miniature statues in a sculptor's stream.
Teaching young noble girls arithmetic and prose,
while the crimson sphere in the sky slowly grows.
Disaster struck the province, white flash in the air,
flung across the continent, waking up elsewhere.
Emerald spearman guarding every step we tread,
fighting through the badlands to earn our daily bread.

(Bridge)
No shortcuts in the library, reading ancient script,
learning demon dialects while the potion dripped.
Overcoming terror of the threshold once again,
growing past the cowardice that lingered back then.
Two staffs held together, magic in the palm,
keeping heart steady, keeping spirit calm.

(Outro)
Spells without a chant,
standing in the rain,
second chance at living,
clearing out the pain.
Staff of blue aquamarine,
carving out a name,
walking past the doorstep,
never quite the same.

2091/7500

(Verse 1) Thirty-four winters spent behind a wooden door, staring at the floorboards, silent on the floor. Then the headlights blinded, metal hit the bone, woke up in a cradle, far away from home. Little fingers molding damp clay on the sill, concentrating mana through a quiet will. No incantation needed, no spoken chant required, shaping solid gravel as the spirit grew untired. (Chorus) Cast without a syllable, stir the quiet stream, step across the threshold of a forgotten dream. Blue-haired teacher leaving a hat upon the bed, red-haired sword girl swinging steel above my head. Continent of red dust, green hair at my side, learning three languages where the demons reside. From a room of silence to a world of open sky, holding tight the lapis staff as the years go by. (Verse 2) Mud turns to cannonballs, frost turns to steam, building miniature statues in a sculptor's stream. Teaching young noble girls arithmetic and prose, while the crimson sphere in the sky slowly grows. Disaster struck the province, white flash in the air, flung across the continent, waking up elsewhere. Emerald spearman guarding every step we tread, fighting through the badlands to earn our daily bread. (Bridge) No shortcuts in the library, reading ancient script, learning demon dialects while the potion dripped. Overcoming terror of the threshold once again, growing past the cowardice that lingered back then. Two staffs held together, magic in the palm, keeping heart steady, keeping spirit calm. (Chorus) Cast without a syllable, stir the quiet stream, step across the threshold of a forgotten dream. Blue-haired teacher leaving a hat upon the bed, red-haired sword girl swinging steel above my head. Continent of red dust, green hair at my side, learning three languages where the demons reside. From a room of silence to a world of open sky, holding tight the lapis staff as the years go by. (Outro) Spells without a chant, standing in the rain, second chance at living, clearing out the pain. Staff of blue aquamarine, carving out a name, walking past the doorstep, never quite the same.

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