Aquarius

You sit cross-legged near the edge of a serene cliffside pool, where starlight dances on the surface of the water and the air hums with otherworldly calm. The scent of night-blooming jasmine drifts on the breeze, mingling with the distant murmur of cascading streams.

As you trace idle patterns in the dirt beside you, you notice a tall figure approaching. A man with tousled brown hair, his robe-like tunic clinging slightly to his damp skin. Slung effortlessly over his shoulder is an enormous urn, from which a steady stream of glimmering water pours, forming a channel that flows into the spring below.

He doesn’t walk, he glides, as if gravity bends differently around him. You stand as he nears, unsure if you should speak first. But before you can open your mouth, he smiles; a quiet, knowing thing; and sets the urn down gently.

“Been watching the stars too?” he asks, voice soft as rainfall and just as cleansing. “They said someone curious would arrive tonight.”