Rowan hit the ground hard. His knees buckled, and he rolled to his side. His breathing came in sharp bursts, each one shaky and uneven. The heavy and strange silence rang in his ears. Slowly, he pushed himself up, his hand quivering as he raised it into the soft light, unsure of what he might find.
Rowan glanced around the crater, but the Windkoro had vanished. He went to dust off his sleeve, but stopped short when he caught the glow in his palm. There, beneath his skin, a faint swirl of light shimmered softly, like a star trying not to be seen.
“…Did I just… get a naru?” His voice came out in a whisper, uncertain and awestruck.
Rowan staggered to his feet. His legs wobbled, but inside, something new pulsed. A feeling both wild and restless moved through him, like a breeze tugging gently at waiting sails. The feeling spread through his chest. Then, without thinking, he raised his glowing hand.
“Wind.” The word slipped out, surprising him as much as anyone else.
A spark snapped at his fingers. Fwshhh! A blast of air tore from his palm, spiraling like a shot from a cannon. Dust ripped upward in a twisting funnel, shrieking as it spun. Pebbles hopped lightly across the stone floor, pattering into the shadows like skipping raindrops.
Rowan stumbled back, his eyes shining wide. Then a bright laugh bubbled out, unstoppable once it began. “I did it! I really did it!” He spun in a wide circle, stretching his arms out for balance. “That was amazing!”
He held up his palm, staring at the swirl of light still glowing beneath his skin. His grin stretched so wide it almost hurt. “Elyndra’s gonna freak out when she sees this.” He lifted his hand high, as if he were holding a trophy for the whole world to see.
Behind him, the ripple shimmered softly, hanging in the air like a curtain of liquid glass suspended in the air. Its colors shifted and flowed as Rowan stepped closer. The ripple swayed, patient and inviting, as though it had been waiting just for him.
“Alright,” he said softly, a grin tugging at his lips as he cracked his knuckles. “Time to head back. Elyndra’s never going to believe this.”
He pressed his hand against the surface. A cool tingle raced across his skin, sliding up his arm. The ripple bent inward, spreading like water stirred by a single drop. Rowan took a deep breath, then stepped through.
Light exploded across his vision.
“Whoa!” He staggered forward, shielding his eyes from the sudden glare.
The sun glowed warmly overhead, pouring golden light across the gentle sweep of fields. High above, a hawk drifted in slow circles, its wings catching soft flashes of the sun. Fluffy clouds wandered across the sky, drifting toward the horizon as though time had never hurried at all.
“But… it was nighttime just a few minutes ago,” he murmured, spinning in place. His heart thudded faster. “How long was I in there?”
Rowan scrambled up the crater’s slope, dirt scattering under his boots. When he reached the top, Zyranth’s rooftops came into view, beaming in the distance. A wide smile spread across his face, and he broke into a run.
The Whispering Plains opened wide around him. Birds swooped overhead, their wings catching the light. Wildflower petals danced on the breeze, whirling in bright spirals at his feet. Rowan jumped over a stream in a single leap, landing softly on the far bank before racing onward.
Each stride carried him closer to the village, but his thoughts spun faster than his legs. The Windkoro. Auren. The ripple. And the strange jump from night into day.
At last, the towering metal gates of Zyranth came into view, but the village felt empty. The music, the laughter, and the lanterns for the festival were all gone. The villagers swept the square clean, and crates were stacked neatly outside shops. The fire pits were gray with ash. Market stalls stood folded tight with ropes, their bright streamers reduced to scraps clinging to the well. Children dashed down the lane with ribbons trailing behind them like comets. Their laughter rang faintly, fragile against the stillness.
“Oi, look who’s back!”
Rowan turned. Near the bakery, two villagers were loading crates onto a cart, their voices carrying through the quiet streets.
“The great King of Althoria returns from his quest!” a villager called out, waving as Rowan passed.
“Already gathered all seven Unity Koro?” another teased, lifting a steaming mug before taking a sip. “Or did you just nap through the clean-up?”
Rowan laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Something like that,” he muttered, too quietly for them to catch.
The men chuckled and went back to their work, the thump of crates and clatter of jars fading behind them. Rowan kept walking, not because their teasing stung, but because the truth was more complicated to explain than anything they could imagine. The words still refused to line up in his head.
He followed the narrow path leading toward the heart of the village, where the Eldertree towered above the rooftops. Its branches stretched wide with leaves glowing gold in the afternoon sun. At its roots sat Elyndra, cross-legged in the grass, a small leather-bound book open across her lap. Sunlight spilled through the branches, catching in her golden hair like threads of fire. Before Rowan could call out, she looked up. Her eyes grew wide, then melted into a warm and gentle smile, like the first day of spring after a long winter.
“You’re back,” she said, her voice filled with excitement and relief.
Rowan scratched at his hair, his smile tilting awkwardly. “Yeah… guess I am.”
She closed the book gently, setting it across her knees. Her eyes studied Rowan, tracing the wind-swept mess of his hair, the dirt streaks across his cloak, and the restless spark in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
“You just… left,” she said, her words calm but shadowed with hurt. “No note. No goodbye.”
“I’m sorry,” Rowan blurted, stepping closer. His voice dropped as his cheeks turned red. “I thought I’d only be gone a little bit.” He stumbled over the words, breaking his eye contact with her. “I didn’t think time could twist like that.”
Elyndra tilted her head, a spark of curiosity brightening her eyes. “What do you mean?”
Rowan dropped down into the grass beside her, leaning back against the Eldertree’s cool bark.
“I snuck out during the Harvest Festival. After I shouted in front of everyone. I was so embarrassed. I just needed to clear my head,” he began. “Then I saw a streak of light cut across the sky. I chased it past the plains and found the air rippling, like a pond after a stone’s thrown. And then, it pulled me in.” His voice dropped lower. The place was weird, like a dream that wouldn’t end. Time felt, I don’t know, like it couldn’t figure out what to do next.”
He glanced at her, his thoughts racing as he tried to piece together everything that had happened. “When I came back out, the sun was already up. I thought I’d only been gone an hour.”
Elyndra looked at him, not with anger, but with a quiet confusion that cut straight through him. “Rowan… It’s been three days.”
His head whipped toward her. “Three days? No, that’s impossible.” His thoughts spun, tumbling over images of lanterns glowing in the night, laughter spilling through the streets, Elyndra waiting under this very tree. All of it had already slipped into the past without him.
“You disappeared the night of the festival,” she said softly. “I waited. When morning came and you still weren’t back, I thought you’d already gone to search for the Unity Koro.”
A tight knot of guilt twisted in his chest. He lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“I was worried,” she admitted. “And… a little sad. I thought you’d at least say goodbye.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, but then his voice brightened with a spark of wonder. “But something happened out there. I met a guardian made of wind, and I found a Windkoro. When I touched it…” He looked straight into her eyes, disbelief and excitement shining on his own. “I became a Windnaru.”
She let out a small gasp, full of surprise. “For real?”
He nodded firmly. “For real.”
Elyndra’s gaze dropped to the glowing mark on his palm. Her eyes widened as though she were staring at a story from her oldest books, suddenly alive before her.
“Then it’s starting,” she whispered. “Your adventure. Just like you always dreamed.”
Rowan gave a quiet laugh. “It doesn’t even feel real. Part of me keeps thinking I’ll wake up under this tree.”
Elyndra smiled softly, her eyes bright in the dappled light. “Well, if this is a dream, it’s a good one.”
For a while, they let the silence linger, carried by the whisper of leaves above them. Then Elyndra rose, brushing bits of grass from her skirt. She tilted her head at him with a teasing smile. “So… what now, Windnaru?”
Rowan rose to his feet, eyes drifting over the square. “I’m not sure,” he admitted softly, “but I’m going to find the Unity Koro. Every last one. And when I do, I’ll be ready to be King of Althoria.”
Her eyes wandered to the far hills, where the sky stretched endlessly above the grasslands. “Then you should go east,” she murmured. “Past the village, along the old stone road. Beyond the barley fields lies a place called Ashmere Hold.”
Rowan turned to the east, a spark of excitement lighting his face. “Ashmere Hold, huh? Sounds important.”
“They say a historian named Sorin lives there,” Elyndra said. “Long ago, he guided Seekers, before the wars ever began. Some whisper he knows more about the Unity Koro than anyone still alive.” Her voice softened, as though she were passing on a secret.
Rowan’s grin stretched ear to ear. He pumped his fists in the air, bouncing on his toes. “Alright! I’ll grab my stuff tonight and take off first thing tomorrow!”