Lira’s breath still ca shallow, her pulse pounding with the aftershock of the vines she had summoned. The earth beneath her feet had trembled, obeyed, responded—not like before, not after long coaxing or frustration. This ti, it had moved like it knew her.
But just as she began to calm, another sensation stirred deep within her chest.
It was softer than the earth’s pull. Lighter. Shifting.
She blinked, lifting her face slightly—and felt it.
Wind.
Not just on her skin. She felt it. Like a pulse brushing past her thoughts. A subtle movent tugging at the edge of her awareness. It wasn’t a breeze from the mountains or an afternoon gust. It was like... an invisible thread calling to her. A second rhythm beneath her skin.
Her brow furrowed. This was new.
Lira took a slow breath, trying not to look suspicious. Maelin was talking to another student, their instructor distracted by soone setting their sleeve on fire. She glanced around at the others practicing—so coaxing water from flasks, so sending sparks between their hands—and she wondered...
What if I just... try?
She stretched her hand out, fingers loose and curved like she was stroking the air. Just a flick, a quiet thought in the back of her mind: Wind. Co.
A playful movent, nothing more.
Whoosh.
A sudden burst of wind swept across the training field like a wild ripple. Cloaks flapped. Hair flew wildly into faces. Scrolls, paper spells, and chalk dust scattered into the air. A few students yelped in surprise, ducking instinctively. Even Maelin’s fire flickered and sputtered for a mont before she clenched her fist to control it.
Heads turned. The wind stilled.
Lira stood completely still, hand halfway in the air, blinking at it as if it had betrayed her.
"...Oops?" she whispered.
Maelin gave her a wide-eyed look from across the grass. "Was that you again?"
"I think so?" Lira slowly lowered her hand. "I didn’t... an to. I just—tried."
Their instructor shouted over the field, "Focus, students! Wind happens. Practice through it!"
Everyone returned to training, the brief gust written off as a wild elental flare or a mountain draft. But Lira knew better. She could still feel it—like a whisper at her back, waiting.
She looked at her hands again. First the vines. Now the wind.
This isn’t normal. This is... sothing more.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her thoughts settled.
I need answers.
Later, when the training session ended and the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Lira quietly excused herself and made her way toward the academy’s library—her mind racing with new questions and one steady thought:
The bracelet had awakened sothing. But what else slept within her?
The academy halls had quieted as the sun dropped behind the mountain ridge. Most students returned to the dorms or ss hall, but Lira’s steps echoed softly down the long stone corridor toward the library.
She didn’t tell Maelin where she was going. She needed space. And quiet.
The grand doors of the library creaked faintly as she pushed them open. Warm candlelight flickered inside, casting golden glows across towering shelves filled with scrolls, bound books, and tos that slled of ti and secrets.
She wandered aisle after aisle, dragging her fingers along the spines. Titles flickered by—Elental Alignnt, The Principles of Grounding, Records of Wind-Born Masters... But none of them called to her. They were too basic. Too... known.
Hours passed. She didn’t care.
She moved deeper into the less-used parts of the library, where dust collected like snow on forgotten knowledge. The air slled older here. Even the candles seed to flicker more quietly.
Her fingers brushed against sothing rough—leather, cracked and worn. A thick book, wedged between two others far newer. No title on the spine.
Curious, Lira pulled it free. Dust puffed into the air, making her cough softly. She brought it to a nearby reading table and opened it carefully.
What she saw inside made her breath hitch.
The pages were filled with beautifully hand-painted illustrations—so faded, others still vibrant. A man stood in the center of the first image, arms outstretched, with fire curling around one hand and water suspended in the other. Vines twisted at his feet. Above his head, a spiral of air. Behind him a purple shadow of his Spirit.
Lira’s heart thudded in her chest.
He was wielding them all.
The next pages told a story through images and elegant script. A tale of a legendary figure long lost to ti—his na sared by weathered ink, but his legacy still vivid. He was called many-nad by those who followed him. A wielder of all five elents. A bridge between realms. A mystery.
Lira leaned closer, eyes wide, tracing the swirl of air with her finger. She could feel the echo of it... like her own wind whispering back to her.
She turned another page, and her fingers froze.
There, at the man’s wrist, was a drawing of a bracelet—delicate, almost exactly like hers.
She swallowed hard.
No ntion of what it ant. Just the symbol. And then more images—battlefields, temples, a circle of robed figures kneeling before the many-elental man.
Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "What is this...?"
Sothing inside her stirred. Not fear. Not confusion.
Recognition.
She glanced around. The library was empty. Silent.
Gently, she closed the book, holding it close to her chest. Her thoughts whirled, and yet sothing in her finally felt still—like a puzzle piece slipping into place.
But this was only the beginning.
She took the book and headed to the front desk to borrow it. The librarian barely glanced at it, simply nodded and recorded the loan. No questions asked.
With the heavy book tucked under her arm, Lira walked slowly through the quiet halls toward her room. Her thoughts were still swirling with the images she had just seen.
As she turned a corner, she nearly bumped into soone.
"Ah, young seeker," said a calm, deep voice.
It was Grandmaster Elion.
Lira straightened quickly, clutching the book tighter. "Good evening, Grandmaster."
His eyes moved to the book in her hands. A small smile touched his lips, knowing and distant.
"That one finds those who are ready," he said, cryptically. "It may not give answers... but it may show you where to look."
Before she could respond, he gave her a soft nod and walked away down the hall, his robes brushing the floor like whispering leaves.
Lira stood there for a few monts, trying to understand his words.
What did he an? Was it just a story? Or sothing more?
Still pondering, she continued to her room. The book rested quietly on her table as she washed up and changed.
Soon after, with damp hair and a heart full of questions, she slipped under the blankets.
Sleep took her quickly — and the wind outside the window seed to hum in harmony with her dreams.
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