Dawn's pale light crept over the rooftops of Embervale's satellite villages, gilding the crooked lanes and low stone walls, but already the air was thick with smoke and cries. Kael Thornwind stood at the edge of the main drag in Northbrook, heart thundering like war drums. This village lay four leagues northeast of his home, and though he'd escaped Embervale's own suffering, the High King's edict pursued him still. Now, as the wind carried the distant echo of stamping boots and breaking timbers, Kael realized desperation had followed him.
He cracked open a tavern door—its hinges scorched and splintered—and stumbled into darkness. A lantern's flicker revealed broken tables, overturned stools, and three villagers pressed against the far wall, faces etched with terror. One of them was Old Merin, the miller's wife, her braid singed and eyes red with fear.
"Kael!" she gasped. "They've come again… they slaughtered every sheep, took our grain… and my son—" Her wail cracked into a sob as she saw the shard strapped to Kael's chest.
He knelt beside her, resting a steadying hand on her arm. "I'm going to get him back," he said, voice low but certain. "Tell me where they went."
The miller's wife pointed toward the barnyard beyond, where smoke curled from shattered beams. Outside, a line of soldiers formed around a hulking wagon loaded with stolen sacks. Four shouting riders prodded two trembling children—Merin's son and his friend—toward the road. Kael's jaw clenched. Above the commotion, the wind rattled tin roofs and carried distant horns from more soldiers arriving.
Kael stood, dust swirling around his boots. Without hesitation, he strode into the open. "Hey!" he called, voice ringing across the yard. The soldiers stilled. One—young, barely older than Kael—turned his swordtip toward him with a sneer. "A fancy farmboy," he jeered. "Come to beg for mercy?"
Kael said nothing. He drew a slow breath, feeling the shard's glow seethe at his side. He lifted both hands and willed the wind to answer. At first only a faint breeze stirred his tunic, but then it leapt into life—whipping past the soldiers in a crackling ribbon that rattled armor and flung dust at their feet. The newcomer faltered, staggering back as Kael stepped forward, eyes blazing with the shard's pale blue fire.
"Let them go," Kael said, voice calm yet thunderous. "Or bear witness to a power you cannot hold."
A captain with polished cuirass barked orders, raising a hand to strike. The young soldier lunged, but Kael's next breath summoned a gust that sent him sprawling across the courtyard. The captain cursed, charging with drawn sword. Kael braced himself as steel met invisible barrier: a wall of wind coalesced at his command, bowing the blade harmlessly aside. Sparks erupted where metal met aether, showering the soldier's gauntlet.
Chaos erupted. Soldiers rushed Kael from all directions, but each time they closed in, he wove the wind into shields and strikes—sweeping one opponent off his feet, snatching a helmet from another, and sending arrows clattering against gusts that deflected their shafts. Through it all, Kael kept his eyes on the wagon, where Merin's son huddled against the rattling boards, wide-eyed and crying.
As a rider raised his spear to thrust, Kael pulled the shard closer, and with a roar that startled even himself, he unleashed a blast of starlight that rippled outward like a shockwave. Soldiers were knocked back, armor dented, helmets flying. The wagon's wheels rolled free of their harness, and the stolen sacks tumbled out. Marla and Rorin—having tracked him from the road—rushed in, freeing the children and helping them to their feet.
The captain, blood trickling from a cut brow, spat curses. But when he lunged again, Kael drove his palm forward, and the breeze coalesced into a torrent that drove the man against the barn's collapsed wall. The soldier slumped to his knees, gasping for breath.
Seeing their leader bested, the remaining troops exchanged uneasy glances. Then, almost as one man, they turned and fled down the road, dust roiling behind them like a storm tide.
Silence fell, broken only by the children's whimpers and the crackle of settling flames. Kael dropped to his knees by the wagon. "Are you both all right?" he asked. The boys nodded, tears staining their cheeks. Kael scooped them into a fierce hug, pulling their tears into his tunic.
Marla knelt beside him. "You saved them," she said, voice thick. "But Kael… be careful. This power draws attention."
Kael lifted his head, sweat matting his hair. He gazed at the shard, its glow fading to a soft pulse. "I know. But if I can protect them, if I can keep Embervale safe—" His voice broke. "Then I must."
They gathered the children and what remained of the stolen grain. Rorin patched the wagon's wheels while Kael and Marla comforted the boys. As the sun climbed higher, the road ahead beckoned once more. Zephyrus still awaited, with its citadel of wind and the promise of Seraphine's guidance. But Kael knew every mile north would bring new conflicts, harder trials—and ever-growing eyes watching for the "Star's chosen."
Before they departed, Merin's wife and other villagers emerged from hiding. The miller—bloodied but alive—stood beside her. He pressed a heavy sack of flour into Marla's hands. "For the road," he said hoarsely. Then, with tears in his eyes, he placed a stiff leather gauntlet on Kael's shoulder. "May it remind you of home. And of why you fight."
Kael accepted it reverently. As he laced the gauntlet onto his leather jerkin, a gust of wind picked up stray petals from shattered rose bushes, swirling them in a brief dance. Kael smiled, setting his jaw with determination. He lifted the children onto the wagon bench, took the reins, and urged the mule forward.
Each hoofbeat carried him further from the familiar fields of Terra, closer to a destiny shaped by elemental trials and epic battles. Yet in his heart, he carried Embervale: its fear, its hope, and the spark that had awoken him. Whatever lay ahead—whether storm or betrayal—Kael Thornwind would face it.
And so, beneath a widening sky, the caravan wound north toward the Wind Citadel, leaving behind the smoldering echo of Embervale's raid—and the promise of a power that would change Aetherion forever.