Neither Suvarn nor Deyr turned immediately. The sea crashed against the hull, spraying salt into her face. She began to move forward, each step a battle. The wind pushed her back, howling as though trying to keep her away, but something inside her refused to stop. Her feet slid on wet wood; she caught ropes, chains, whatever she could to stay upright.
As she neared them, she finally heard their voices carried by the storm—low, steady, somehow untouched by the noise.
"Well, we found him," Deyr said, his tone calm, almost amused.
Suvarn's answer came like a quiet drumbeat. "Yes."
Deyr tilted his head toward the horizon. "He really does have a flair for entrance. Look at that sky."
"Always the dramatist," Suvarn murmured. "Even the wind can't whisper without his permission."
Aria braced herself against a mast, hair whipping around her face. "You two—what are you doing out here?"
This time they both turned. The lightning illuminated them—Suvarn's eyes glowing faintly gold, Deyr's glinting silver-blue. Their faces were calm, almost serene, in the storm's fury.
Suvarn's voice carried to her without effort, like the storm bent around his words. "You should be below deck, Hero."
"Not until someone tells me what this is!" she shouted back.
Deyr smiled, pointing toward the horizon where the clouds split in two. The wind screamed louder, then suddenly fell silent, as if the world had taken a breath.
The sea before them churned, forming a spiraling column of light and air. From within it came a faint, steady hum—musical, endless. The storm clouds above began to turn in perfect circles, and for a heartbeat the entire ocean seemed to glow green and white.
Deyr's grin softened into something close to awe. "Guess he decided we were worth his time after all."
Aria blinked against the brightness.
Suvarn looked toward the horizon, eyes reflecting the swirling light. "The Vein of Wind."
"The… the next Aetherbound?"
"The one who is patient," Suvarn said. "Patient enough for the world to be quiet enough to hear him."
A gentle current pushed against the ship, tilting it slightly toward the storm's heart. Aria felt it—not fear, not even cold, but a strange serenity crawling up her arms, filling her chest. The air itself seemed alive, whispering across her skin in voices that weren't quite words.
Deyr chuckled softly. "Leave it to him to make a storm sound like a lullaby."
Suvarn nodded once. "It's his way of saying hello."
The wind picked up again, swirling around them but not touching. It circled the three of them, raising strands of Aria's hair, flicking Deyr's chains so they sang softly. The crew below shouted in confusion, but none dared step onto the deck.
Aria took one careful step closer to the railing. "You mean… we've found him?"
Suvarn turned to her. "No," he said, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "He's found you."
Her breath caught. "Kaenmor…"
Deyr's grin widened. "Looks like the wind finally decided to join the party....I'm kind of excited to meet him after so long."
The sea shimmered again, then stilled entirely. The storm began to pull upward, narrowing into a single towering funnel of light that reached into the clouds. For a second, the whole world seemed suspended between breaths.
And then, faintly, carried on that impossible wind, came a voice — deep, calm, and kind.
"Hero of another sky… follow the current, follow the wind and you shall find me."
The light faded. The clouds broke apart. The sea calmed so suddenly that the silence felt louder than the storm had.
The sails fluttered once, then hung still. The lanterns relit themselves, flames steady.
Aria stared into the distance where the light had been, her pulse pounding. "He spoke to me," she whispered.
Suvarn inclined his head. "He speaks to all who listen."
Deyr gave a low whistle. "Well, there's your invitation, Hero. The Wind himself just sent you the reply mail."
Suvarn turned toward him, one eyebrow raised. "Try to sound less drunk when meeting him."
"Not a chance," Deyr said, grinning. "He'll need the entertainment."
The two Aetherbounds began to walk back toward the cabin, their movements unhurried, unshaken. Aria followed slowly, the wind still brushing her cheeks like unseen fingers.
She looked up at the stars peeking through the broken clouds. For the first time since the summoning, the world had started to feel like it was beginning to come together.
Behind them, the ocean whispered in soft circles, and far off in the distance, a single green feather drifted down to the water's surface.
Kaenmor Lyren had called.
The wind had chosen.
...
What She Was
She was back in her apartment.
The hum of city traffic murmured through the half-open window. The sunlight that crept through the blinds was cold, diluted by the gray of another routine morning. Aria sat on the edge of her narrow bed, still in her uniform, scrolling through her phone. Another headline about scandals, another video of someone yelling. The comment section swarmed with cruelty disguised as humor.
She exhaled slowly.
Her reflection in the phone's dark screen looked older than eighteen. The city outside lived fast, careless, never quiet.
A message buzzed from a classmate: "You still chasing that writing dream? lol be real, Aria."
Then another from a part time coworker: "Need you to cover another shift. And I know that you're good at saying yes."
And another from her mother: "Don't argue. Just focus on something stable for once."
Every word felt the same — too heavy for something made of pixels.
She stood, walked to the window, and looked down at the crowded street. Horns, voices, smoke from a food stall. The air was full but empty. Her eyes found a small plant she'd placed on the sill, its leaves drooping from neglect.
"You'll survive," she murmured to it, though she wasn't sure which of them she meant.
In the corner of her desk, her old journal lay open. She picked up a pen and wrote without thinking:
If no one listens, maybe I'll whisper to the wind instead.
A gust slipped through the open window, stirring her hair. She smiled faintly, eyes half-closing, just for a moment imagining that the breeze was listening.
Then—
"Aria!"
The voice wasn't from memory. It was close. Real.
Her eyes flew open. The light changed — too bright, too warm — and the sound of traffic was gone, replaced by the steady hush of waves.
She blinked into sunlight. The wooden planks beneath her swayed gently. Suvarn's face hovered above her, outlined by a blazing sky.
"You were dreaming," he said.
Aria sat up, shielding her eyes. The Vagrant Gale no longer moved. Beyond the railing stretched not open sea but a shoreline of white sand and shimmering mist. The sails hung limp.
"What happened?" she asked, rising unsteadily.
"We stopped," Suvarn replied. "Or rather… the sea stopped us."
Deyr's voice came from the bow. "Translation: the wind got tired of waiting and dropped us off."
She turned. The crew had gathered, whispering uneasily. Beyond the beach rose a wall of trees — tall, pale green, their leaves shining as if lit from within. The air itself seemed alive, fragrant with something floral yet unearthly.
The captain approached Suvarn, confusion etched on his weathered face. "This island ain't on any map, Lord Flame. The current dragged us in, gentle as a hand. Then just… stopped."
Suvarn's gaze lingered on the forest. "Ofcourse.. after all he is waiting...Kaenmor is waiting."