Morning light filtered through the high windows of the Hall of Echoes, painting Seraphine Vale's cloak in pale gold. Kael Thornwind stood at the threshold, his pack heavy with provisions and starshard safely sheathed at his side. Before him stretched the wind-carved bridge that led beyond Zephyrus's cliffs, toward lands he had never seen. Behind him lay Embervale's rolling fields and ruined villages—his past. Ahead lay trials, alliances, and enemies beyond count. Between the two, Kael felt the ache of farewell tug at his heart.
Seraphine's voice broke the hush. "The next trial awaits in Pyrrhus," she said, voice crisp like dawn air. "Molten forges, consuming flames. You must master the Ember Imprint before you can claim the Star's full strength." She stepped forward, eyes locked on Kael's. "The path will be perilous. You may lose more than comfort—you may lose hope. Remember the light within."
He bowed, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I will not forget."
A distant horn called, echoing against the citadel walls. Kael turned to see Rorin and Marla approaching, escorted by two Zephyrian guards. Marla's eyes were bright with unshed tears, and Rorin's gray-streaked beard trembled with emotion.
"It's time," Kael whispered, straightening.
Marla crossed the distance in three quick steps and pressed a hand against his cheek. "Promise me you'll be careful," she said, voice fluted with worry. "These trials… they change people."
He brushed a thumb across her knuckles. "I promise."
Rorin approached, placing a heavy hand on Kael's shoulder. "We've tended fields and fought bandits together. Now you face true storms. Remember what you fought for."
Kael nodded, swallowing hard. Every memory of Embervale—of his parents' cottage, the laughter of neighbors, the soft lullaby his mother used to hum—rose in his chest. He forced himself to breathe deeply, to anchor his resolve.
The Zephyrian captain spoke then, voice respectful. "The bridge is ready, Adept Thornwind. Our windriders await below to guide you across the chasm."
Kael nodded, turning to Seraphine. "Thank you, Transcendent. For everything."
She inclined her head once, solemnly. "When you return, you will stand among the Pillar Guardians. Go now, and may the eclipse light your path."
With a final glance at the Hall's dancing mirrors, Kael stepped forward. The bridge beneath his boots hummed with aetheric resonance, each plank carved from windblessed wood. Below, a deep ravine yawned, wind whipping through its depths. Kael's stomach knotted.
Marla reached out and squeezed his arm. "Go, Kael. Bring hope back with you."
He managed a tight smile and pushed onward, Rorin at his flank, the Zephyrian guards flanking them like silent sentinels. The wind roared overhead, lifting strands of Kael's hair, invigorating him with its primal power.
Halfway across, a howl split the air—a cry more beast than human. One guard froze, eyes widening. The wind shifted, carrying the stench of brimstone and ash. Kael's heart thundered.
"Bandits," the other guard muttered, drawing a slender spear. "They've scaled the cliff face. Likely spies of the Obsidian Council."
Before Kael could react, shapes lunged from the gorge's rim—six lean figures clad in soot-black leathers, blades glinting like obsidian shards. They tumbled onto the bridge, boots splintering windwood, spears lowered.
Kael's hand went to the starshard, heat humming through the leather beneath his fingers. He drew a breath, willing calm into his core. Before he could summon the wind, Rorin sprang forward, staff whirling in a wide arc that cracked one bandit's jaw like thunder. The first attacker fell back; the others advanced in unison.
Marla cried out and hurled a small ceramic flask. It struck a bandit's chest, shattering and releasing a gout of stinging powder that sent him coughing and thrashing against the railing. Kael leaped to intercept a second thrust, crossing his forearm to catch the blade. Pain flared, but he pressed the shard's warmth into his palm. The wind answered: a whirl of air danced off the bridge's edge, sweeping three attackers into the void. The final trio hesitated, stunned by their comrades' disappearance.
Rorin pivoted, smashing his staff into one's shin. The man cried out and dropped his blade. Marla, finding a length of rope at her belt, lashed it around a second assailant's neck. That man gagged as the lariat tightened, forcing him to his knees. Kael faced the third, sword glinting in his hand. He drew a slender arc of wind around the weapon, so the blade hovered harmlessly between them. The bandit's eyes widened.
"Leave," Kael commanded, voice even. "Or meet the same fate as your brothers."
The man looked at his companions, still crouched or staggering, then back at Kael. With a harsh curse, he turned and ran. His footsteps pounded across the windbridge, echoing into the chasm.
Silence followed, broken only by the mournful creek of the aetherwood beneath Kael's boots. He exhaled, adrenaline still coursing. When his vision cleared, he realized he was shaking—limbs trembling from the close brush with death.
Marla rushed to him, pressing a hand to his shoulder. "Are you hurt?"
Kael glanced at his arm; the cut was superficial, already clotting. He managed a nod. "Nothing serious."
Rorin stood, bloodied staff in hand, breathing heavily but smiling. "Not a bad first stand on the windbridge."
The guard captain strode over, picking a fallen dagger from the deck. "Well met, Adept," he said, bowing his head. "We owe you our lives."
Kael accepted the dagger with a nod of thanks. "We owe each other," he said. "Now—onward."
They hurried across the remainder of the bridge. At the far side, the windriders waited on sturdy griffin-like mounts, their leather collars crackling with aether. The riders bowed to Kael; one, a young woman whose sky-blue plume danced in the wind, held out her hand. "Mount, Adept Thornwind. We ride to the Citadel Haven in Pyrrhus; the journey must be swift."
Kael slipped into the saddle, finding balance as the great creature rumbled beneath him. Rorin climbed onto a second beast, Marla on a third. Behind them, the Zephyrian guards mounted equally well. With a final nod, the riders leaned forward—griffin-wings unfurled—and they launched into the sky.
Kael pressed himself into the saddle as his mount's powerful wings beat, lifting them into the roiling currents of Zephyrus. Below, the white cliffs fell away into dizzying plunges. The wind raked his cloak behind him in furious arcs and sang through the griffin's feathers like a choir of millions. Every nerve in Kael's body crackled with exhilaration and fear.
Ahead, Pyrrhus rose from the mists: a land of dark red hills and volcanic spires. Rivers of smoke drifted from blackened slopes, and the horizon glowed with ember-light. Kael's lips curved into a determined grin. This was his next crucible—the realm of fire and forge where he would learn to withstand—and wield—the Ember Imprint.
As the griffins veered toward the smoky peaks, Kael glanced back. Far to the north, the white towers of Skyreach Keep gleamed against the sky. Behind him lay home and the friends who had sheltered him. Ahead lay trials, forging pain, and enemies who lurked in shadow.
He drew a steady breath, feeling the shard's steady pulse beneath his tunic. He had fled home, faced down raiders and bandits, awakened his core, and now soared on the winds of Zephyrus toward the crucible of Pyrrhus. His heart raced with the promise of power and the dread of unknown perils. But in that moment, astride a wind-blessed griffin, Kael Thornwind felt truly alive.
And he knew there was no turning back.