The square had emptied, leaving only the faint scent of dust and the lingering murmur of the wind.
Eryndor Vale stood at the edge of the stone platform, hand pressed against his chest. The pulse of his core beneath his skin was quiet, deliberate, and unlike anything he had ever felt. It wasn't just wind. It was… aware.
He exhaled slowly, letting the tension in his shoulders ease, though his heart still hammered. The villagers' whispers echoed in his mind: late, weak, a disappointment. The words stung, but they did not wound him as they once would have.
Kael appeared beside him, fiery aura faintly visible even in the soft morning light. "That… was strange," he said, voice low, his dark eyes studying Eryndor. "I've never seen a Wind core like that."
Eryndor shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "Neither have I," he murmured.
Kael's heat shimmered faintly around him. "People will talk. The elders… they know it's unusual, even if they don't say it."
"I know," Eryndor replied. He pressed his hand to his chest again. The subtle pulse was steady, insistent, alive. It seemed to respond to his breathing, to his heartbeat, even to the faint stirrings of thought. Patient. Waiting.
At that moment, Elder Marrec stepped forward from the edge of the square, his long robes whispering over the stone. His eyes, sharp and calculating, fixed on Eryndor.
"You have awakened late," the elder said, voice steady, but carrying a weight that silenced even the wind. "But your core… it is irregular. Unique. There is potential in you that few can see, fewer still can understand."
Eryndor swallowed, unsure how to respond. The elder's gaze softened, almost imperceptibly.
"You will go to Zephyra Academy," Marrec continued. "It is not a guarantee of mastery, but a place where your abilities can be tested, honed, and observed. Prepare yourself. The path will be harsh, but the winds have chosen you for something greater than this village."
Eryndor's chest tightened. Zephyra Academy. The name was whispered among the villagers as a place reserved for the gifted, the elites. A place where failures were weeded out and potential became destiny—or was destroyed.
"I… I'll do my best," he said, voice firm despite the knot of fear in his stomach.
"Good," the elder said. "And do not mistake caution for failure. You are not ordinary, Eryndor Vale. Treat your awakening as the first step, not the last."
As the words settled over him, another shimmer appeared across the square. Kael's hands rose instinctively, and the air around him began to stir. A warm, red glow spread from his palms as fire ignited gently, a slow, controlled flare that expanded upward, spiraling around him.
The villagers' eyes widened. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, a mixture of awe and concern. Kael's fire was clean, strong, perfect—an awakening done on time, flawless in its timing.
Kael's eyes met Eryndor's, a mixture of pride and reassurance. "Looks like I'm not the only one chosen today," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Eryndor felt a spark of something familiar—relief, perhaps, but also determination. If Kael could awaken perfectly, then so could he, even if his way was… different.
The villagers began to leave the square, whispers and sideways glances trailing behind them. Only the elders lingered, observing Eryndor and Kael with quiet calculation.
"Prepare yourselves," Elder Marrec said once more, addressing both boys now. "The world outside this village is not kind. Strength alone will not save you, but those who understand their power—those who respect it—may shape their own destiny."
As the crowd dispersed, Eryndor pressed a hand to his chest. The wind twisted around him, light and deliberate, almost as if it were speaking to him directly. He could feel it answering his heartbeat, his determination, his silent vow.
"Neither the village nor the elders define me," he whispered, more to himself than to Kael. "I will prove myself."
Kael fell into step beside him as they walked toward the outskirts of Lowreach, their steps light, yet weighted with the knowledge that everything had changed. For the first time, Eryndor felt that the late awakening, the whispers, the doubt—they were not burdens. They were challenges.
The wind stirred again, curling around him, playful yet patient. Eryndor clenched his fists, feeling its pulse against his own