When Rowan was four, the world seemed endless and full of magic. Golden fields stretched far beyond the village. The cottages, with mossy roofs and sturdy beams, stood close together like little mountains guarding their people. And above it all, the sky was endless and blue, a dreamy canvas that felt big enough to hold every wish Rowan could imagine.
That evening, the wind carried a secret. It whispered across the hilltop as if trying to speak in a language only the heart could hear. Rowan stood barefoot in the tall grass, the blades brushing against his knees as the breeze gently rocked him in place. His father knelt beside him, his stone-carver’s hands rough but steady as they rested warmly on Rowan’s shoulders.
“If I can find even one of the Unity Koro,” his father said, “everything will change.”
Rowan lifted his small, hopeful eyes. “Can I come too, and help you find one?”
“Maybe one day,” his father whispered. “When the time is right.”
Then he leaned closer, pressing his forehead gently against Rowan’s. “I’ll see you again soon.”
Now, eight years later, Rowan walked beneath the same vast sky where his earliest dreams had taken root. He climbed until he reached the crest of a small hill. Behind him, the festival sounds had faded into the night. Music drifted faintly on the breeze, laughter melting into the hush of the plains. Before him, the Whispering Plains stretched in every direction.
It had been a long time since he had wandered this far on his own. Yet tonight, he didn’t feel alone. Above him, the stars shone bright enough to guide him as he traced familiar constellations with his eyes, just as he had done as a boy.
Then, without warning, the sky split. A streak of light tore across the heavens, plunging toward the earth. It blazed red-orange at its head, burning like a sword fresh from the forge, while behind it trailed a bright arcing tail of blue and green that painted the night in fire and wonder.
The last trace of light slipped behind a distant hill, and Rowan darted after it. His boots thudded against the soft earth as he flew down the slope, the night air tugging at his cloak. The tall grass swayed in waves, parting at his legs like an ocean current.
What was that light? A falling star? The thoughts flashed through his mind, sparking a dozen more questions that tumbled even faster than his footsteps. He didn’t know what had fallen, or why his chest tightened with excitement, but he knew he had to see it with his own eyes.
By the time he scrambled up the next ridge, his lungs burned. His cloak flapped wildly behind him as he stumbled up the last few steps and planted his hands on his knees, sweat dripping as he gasped for air. His heart thundered in his chest as he lifted his head, and that was when he saw it.
At the bottom of the hill was a vast crater, carved deep into the earth like a perfect circle drawn by unseen hands. The grass along its rim was scorched, as though a great fire had blossomed there and then vanished without a trace.
Something glowed in the middle of the crater, pulsing like it was trying to catch his attention. Rowan ran down the hill, then carefully slid into the crater. Loose rocks tumbled with him, and little puffs of dust rose around his feet, making him cough as he stumbled his way down.
Rowan stopped near the edge of the crater. Hovering above the ground was something no bigger than a clenched fist. It shimmered softly in the dark, shifting from deep ocean blue to a sharp, bright green. Each color rippled outward in gentle waves.
Being out here is insane, he thought, dragging a hand through his hair. I ran all this way for that?
He looked up at the sky. The moon had climbed higher, yet the crater felt hidden from the world, like a secret waiting for someone to discover it.
“I should probably head back,” Rowan muttered. “Elyndra’s probably already wondering where I am and I haven’t even packed yet. Plus, I can’t be King of Althoria if something eats me out here.”
But Rowan’s eyes kept returning to the light, and now that he looked closer, he noticed something strange. The air around the object rippled, like the surface of water after a pebble’s splash. The ripple arched upward in a faint dome, bending the space around it like an upside-down glass bowl.
As Rowan inched closer, the ripples quickened. He stretched out his hand, each finger twitching as though the air pushed back against him. The moment his hand passed through the ripple in the air, a gentle heat curled around his skin, spreading like water overlapping at the shore. It slid over him in calm waves, carrying a quiet pulse that pricked along his arm.
A quick gasp escaped him as he snapped his hand back. He stared at his fingers, perfectly ordinary, with no burns, yet the sensation lingered. A faint vibration thrummed beneath his skin, as if a hidden song was still playing there.
He crouched and picked up a small, flat stone from the edge of the crater.
“Let’s see what happens to you,” he whispered.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it toward the light. The shimmer responded instantly, flaring outward in wide, graceful waves before settling again. The rock lifted from the ground, hanging weightless beside the glowing sphere, as though an unseen hand was holding it in place.
Rowan’s eyes grew round with surprise. His boots pressed deeper into the scorched soil as he stepped closer. This time, he didn’t pause. He reached forward again, slipping his hand through the veil once more. Then his arm. Then his shoulder.
The sensation was like leaning into another world. Inside, Rowan could still see his fingers. They wiggled back at him, blurred by rippling light, as though they belonged to someone reaching out from the other side.
Rowan took a deep breath and whispered, “On the count of three…”
His voice trembled, but he planted his feet firmly on the ground.
“One… two…”
Before he reached three, he stepped forward. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the world tilted under him. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, he cracked one eye open, then the other, as if bracing for what he might see.
The scorched grass was gone. So was the blackened soil. In its place stretched a vast plain of cracked stone, like some long-forgotten dried-up riverbed. Dust floated upward in slow spirals, drifting lazily as if gravity had grown too tired to hold it down. The colors of the world had drained away, replaced by silver mist and endless shades of gray. Even the air seemed faded, as if the light had grown weary.
Overhead, the night sky had vanished. No stars. No moon. Only a boundless ceiling of soft gray stretching forever, broken here and there by wisps of cloud. They twisted like smoke, flickering faintly with streaks of gold, washed-out violet, and the softest hint of pink.
Then, FLASH!
A bolt of light split the sky. It wasn’t lightning, but something stranger. The energy arced across the clouds in jagged rose-colored lines before disappearing in silence.
Rowan turned slowly in the eerie stillness. “I’m… still in the Whispering Plains, right?” he whispered to himself. His eyes snapped back to the glow. It shimmered in the same spot as before, steady and bright. Careful now, he crept closer, each step crunching softly against the strange, dusty ground. A faint hum rose through his boots, buzzing up from the stone beneath his feet.
What is this? He wondered and knelt beside the glow, curiosity tugging at him. Resting there was a perfectly smooth stone, shaped in a gentle swirl and shining from within.
“No way…” he gasped, his voice caught somewhere between surprise and barely-contained excitement. “This is a Koro!”Rowan pressed a hand to his chest, where his heart thudded with an enthusiastic rhythm. He rubbed his eyes, half-convinced they were tricking him. But the glow remained.
Then, suddenly, the air around the stone began to buzz. It prickled against Rowan’s skin and made his fingers tremble. The light pulsed brighter, and the waves of green and blue spilled outward, swirling together like an ocean wave about to crash.
ZAP!
Tiny sparks leapt from the stone, skittering across Rowan’s arms like playful lightning. He flinched but didn’t pull away. The tingling raced up to his shoulders, buzzing just beneath the surface of his skin. The sparks spun faster. They rose into the air, weaving glowing ribbons of light. At first, they drifted lazily, then quickened, looping and spiraling around him in bright, swirling currents. All around him, the night stirred, shimmering like a dream unraveling into life.
Rowan stumbled back, his gaze fixed on the light. “Wh-what’s happening?”
Before he could blink, the swirling currents snapped together and shaped themselves into a figure. It hovered in the air, floating between him and the Koro. The form was tall and still, its body shimmering as though light and mist wove it together. Then, slowly, the figure tilted its head, almost like it was offering him a quiet greeting.
A jolt of nerves zipped through him, and he shuffled back without thinking.
“Uh… hello?” His shaky whisper barely stirred the silence around him.
The figure didn’t stir, but a voice flowed into his mind, carrying the weight of a secret meant only for him.
I am Auren. Sage of the Windkoro.
Rowan gasped. “A… Sage?”
The voice came again, soft and steady, drifting through his thoughts like wind over an open field.
Across Althoria, many Koro lie hidden. Each one holds a naru, a power waiting to awaken.
Rowan’s chest tightened as he stood motionless.
When you bond with a Koro, its naru becomes part of you. Some grant the strength of stone. Others command flame, bend metal, or breathe life into the roots of the world.
The glowing figure lifted an arm and pointed toward the swirling stone, still pulsing at Rowan’s feet.
This one is a Windkoro.
Rowan looked down. The stone glowed brighter, sending blue ripples dancing across the cracked ground.
“Whoa…” he whispered.
If you wish to claim this Koro, Auren said, the bond begins with a touch.
Rowan swallowed hard, his heart thundering like it might burst free. Slowly, he lowered himself beside the Koro. “Here goes nothing,” he whispered.
He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the stone. It was cool, smooth like polished glass, but beneath the surface it thrummed, alive with quiet energy. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, WHOOSH!
A wild burst of wind exploded from the Koro, fierce and untamed, racing around Rowan with a roar that shook the night.
“W-Whoa!” Rowan cried out.
The wind crashed into him from every side, roaring like a living storm. It ripped the air from his chest, swirling into a cyclone that spun tighter and faster. Then it struck deeper, rushing through his lungs, crackling in his fingertips, tugging at his hair and cloak as if invisible hands had taken hold.
Rowan’s back snapped in a sharp arch as the wind howled. His arms flung open, fingers clawing skyward. The ground ripped away beneath him. First an inch, then higher, until he hung weightless in the air. The wind didn’t just hold him. It carried him.
His eyes flew open, blazing with light. Something deep inside him shattered, like chains snapping apart. A torrent of memories and emotions crashed through him, wild and unstoppable, roaring like a river tearing through a broken dam. Air slammed into his lungs, fierce and untamed, surging through his body until it felt like lightning lived in his veins. It knew him, it had always known him, and now it claimed his heart with a force that shook the world, as if it had been waiting for this moment all along.
Light flared behind his eyes, golden and blinding, flooding his vision in brilliance. Heat rushed after it, then motion, then the thunder of wind and voices calling like echoes from far away. They tumbled together in a storm of sound and color, whirling faster and faster until the spinning light swallowed everything.
And then, THUD!