Compiled and commented by Albert Weaver
"Every breeze has a memory. Every storm has a name."
- Whispered by a Weather Caster before casting, origin unknown
Not all Green Magic grows roots or walks on paws. Some of it floats. Crashes. Boils.
Weather Casters call it listening up. You don't push the sky - you hum along with it. A strong gust? Easy. Fog on command? Common enough. A sudden cloud of biting mist in a riot zone? Risky... but doable.
But the air doesn't forget.
***
[Excerpt – Incident Report, São Paulo Mana Authority]
TOXIC EVENT – Old Town District, Breeze Years
"Unauthorized caster attempted 'smother fog' during a containment op. The spell amplified, likely catching residual smog and sewer vapors. Cloud turned corrosive. 38 injured. 4 critical. The caustic vapors refused to disperse until sundown."
Note: Caster hospitalized, lungs severely damaged.
***
Weather Casters aren't storm gods. They're negotiators. Every cast is a request, not a command. When they ask too hard - or too fast - Nature answers back. Sometimes gently. Sometimes with teeth.
The strongest among them live more in air than on land. They sleep outdoors. Eat raw herbs. Read humidity like a book. Walk barefoot before big storms to "say hello." Albert once saw a Weather Caster stop mid-sentence, sniff the wind, then whisper: "The river's angry today." She was right. Flash flood by noon.
***
[Audio Transcript – Coastal Watch Interview, Nova Scotia]
CALLSIGN "SEABIND"
SEABIND: "Rain's like an old dog. Comes if you call it right, snaps if you don't. You wanna move a storm, you gotta make it want to move."
INTERVIEWER: "And if it doesn't?"
SEABIND: "Then you batten down and apologize."
***
Small spells cost little. A tailwind here, a fog there. But greater ones? Calling real rain to a dry valley? Turning a hurricane? Those take days. Weeks. You sit with the land. Let your mana braid into the roots, the rivers, the clouds. Some call it the Long Tune. Others just call it waiting.
Albert underlined a line in one old field note:
"She didn't raise her hands. She raised her heartbeat. And the wind followed."
It's not flashy. Not immediate. And gods help the fool who tries to rush it.
Still... in the right hands, it changes everything.
Albert's final note on the page:
"Weather doesn't serve us. But sometimes, if we're kind... it walks beside us."