The windmill creaked beneath him, its blades long rusted into stillness. Artha sat atop its crumbling dome, a ragged bandage wrapped around his trembling hand. The night before had stolen something from him—and left something else behind.
Below, the city of Lower Caelumaris had begun to stir. The murmur of old engines and hungry vendors filtered up on the breeze. But up here, the world was still.
"After the storm... silence feels louder."
He rubbed his hand absently, eyes fixed on the horizon.
"Why… did it feel like I was somewhere else?" he whispered.
He hadn't just lost control. Time had cracked. Space had blurred. For one agonizing heartbeat, he'd felt as if the sky had tried to inhale him.
"I just wanted to find him. That's all I ever wanted."
A shadow passed silently over the rooftop. Artha didn't turn. He didn't need to.
"Still sitting?" came a voice—half teasing, half worried.
Sariya floated down beside him, her sky-blue cloak catching the rising sun. She looked like she belonged to another world… because she did.
"I saw what you did last night," she said softly, brushing a windblown scroll out of her face. "Or… what tried to do you."
He didn't answer.
"Most people would've torn themselves apart touching fractured flow like that," she added, crouching beside him. "But you—" She shook her head. "You're a glitch. A weird, frustrating, terrifying glitch."
Artha looked down at his hands.
"I didn't ask for it."
"No one ever does," she said. "But power—when it answers—doesn't ask what you want. It just is."
The wind shifted. Somewhere above, something in the sky flickered—barely a shimmer, like a forgotten name brushing the edge of memory. Sariya's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.
Then, out of nowhere, she tripped on a floating scroll.
"Ow—seriously?!" she groaned, rubbing her hip. "Why do these enchanted things always float exactly where I'm walking?!"
The scroll spun in the air lazily. "User error," it muttered.
Artha smiled.
"There it is," she said, pointing at his face. "The first time you've looked human in hours."
"I don't know what to say to people who smile at me," he admitted.
"Then get used to it," she said, grinning. "Because at Aetherion, people smile before they stab you."
She pulled a gold-edged scroll from her satchel and held it out.
"If you're still too scared, just say it. You're allowed to be. But you can't sit here forever. Power like yours? It's going to draw attention, whether you want it or not."
Artha stared at the scroll.
"I don't have money."
"Good," she said. "Charm's more valuable anyway."
He didn't take it. Yet.
Sariya crossed her arms, watching him.
"Please…" she thought. "Don't become like him."
A gust of wind rose between them. Then, a leaf. Just one, spiraling past as Artha finally stood.
"I didn't want this scroll," he said quietly. "Or magic. Or 'Rudra' or whatever that is."
"I know," she said.
"I just want to find my brother."
He took the scroll.
"But if this path has even one clue… I'll walk it."
next day
Artha begins walking away from the only home he knew.
A single leaf drifts past as he steps forward.
"He didn't walk toward greatness.
He walked away from stillness…
…because it was the only road left."