The journey to the Cloud Monastery began before dawn. The horizon glowed blue, the color of raw metal before it's hammered into shape. Horses snorted restlessly; the wind pulled at cloaks as if urging them forward.
Ayisulu rode ahead with Snow-Mouth, practicing slow breaths, trying to feel the wind without drowning in it. The others followed in a loose formation — quiet, tense, watchful.
But far behind them, in the camp they left hours ago, someone else woke up.
---
A bird landed on a cold metal gauntlet — its eyes burning like embers in the night.
The man who held it stood on a cliff overlooking the empty steppe. His armor was blackened by fire, his helm shaped like a falcon's head, and his breath came out like smoke.
The Falcon.
He stroked the creature's feathers.
"You found them."
The bird loosened its claws and dropped a strip of something into his palm.
A strand of silver hair.
Chagan's.
The Falcon smiled beneath his mask — a sharp, thin smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"So," he murmured. "The Weaver played with my prey."
He turned toward the shadows behind him.
A figure stepped forward — tall, wrapped in violet cloth, mask smooth and blank.
"What do you see?" he asked.
The masked figure answered in a light, melodic voice:
"Threads collapsing. Threads knotting. The seer grows brighter. The boy nearly died."
The Falcon's grip tightened. "Nearly is not enough."
"She is protected," the figure replied. "By wind, by instinct, by those who love her."
The Falcon turned sharply. "Love is weakness."
"Love," the masked figure said with a tilt of the head, "is also power."
The Falcon said nothing for a long moment.
Then:
"The prince goes with her?"
"Yes."
The Falcon's voice darkened. "Good. It will make the ending more poetic."
The figure shifted. "And the Cloud Monastery? Should we intervene before she reaches it?"
"No," the Falcon said. "Let her go. Let her learn. Let her grow strong."
He let the silver hair slip between his fingers, carried away by the wind.
"Only then," he said softly, "will she break as beautifully as I want."
The masked figure bowed.
The Falcon lifted his gauntlet again.
"Fly."
The ember-eyed bird rose into the sky with a piercing cry and vanished.
---
Ayisulu didn't know any of this.
She only felt the air grow colder as the group reached the Road of Winds — a narrow pathway carved into a mountainside, where clouds pooled like rivers. The wind moaned constantly here, echoing against the quartz cliffs.
Temir shivered. "Why does it sound like someone crying?"
Erlan deadpanned, "That's the wind."
"No, that's definitely someone crying."
Kanykei sighed. "It's you, Temir. You're crying."
Temir wiped his eyes. "Oh. Okay."
Arslan rode beside Ayisulu, watching her hands carefully — afraid the glow might return.
"Tell me the moment you feel the wind shift," he said.
"I will."
Snow-Mouth walked ahead on foot, staff glowing faintly, their cloak fluttering like a torn flag.
Halfway up the ridge, Ayisulu felt something pulse in her chest.
A warning.
A vision knocking.
Not a dream — something sharper.
More urgent.
She gasped, grabbing Arslan's sleeve.
"What do you see?" he asked.
But before she could answer—
A roar split the air.
Something enormous burst from the clouds below — a creature made entirely of mist and lightning, wings stretching wider than a yurt's roof.
A Kok-Zhal — a cloud beast spoken of in nursery tales.
Kereg shouted, "A storm-drake!"
Temir screamed, "WE'RE GONNA DIE IN A CHILDREN'S STORY!"
The Kok-Zhal arched its neck and released another thunderous roar.
Ayisulu's pulse surged.
Her wind reacted instantly — rising like a protective wall around her.
Arslan moved his horse closer, ready to shield her with his life.
Erlan drew his bow, already calculating the beast's movement.
Snow-Mouth whispered, "It should not be here. Someone sent it."
Ayisulu's breath hitched.
"Sent…?"
Before she could finish the thought, the beast turned its glowing eyes toward her.
And dove.
Arslan pushed his horse forward to intercept —
Erlan aimed at the beast's throat —
Temir fainted —
Kanykei pulled him by the ankle —
Ayisulu reached out her hand—
And the wind answered.
Exploding outward in a spiral that slammed into the beast midair.
The Kok-Zhal screamed, spiraling upward, wings flailing, clouds scattering around it.
But Ayisulu crumpled.
Her strength gone.
Her hands shaking violently.
Her vision fading.
Arslan leapt from his horse and caught her before she hit the stone path.
"Ayisulu!"
Her eyes fluttered open.
She whispered:
"It wasn't attacking us."
Arslan froze. "What?"
"It wasn't being sent to kill…"
Snow-Mouth's eyes widened in horror.
Ayisulu finished, voice trembling:
"It was being sent…
to drag me away."
Silence.
Erlan cursed softly.
Temir regained consciousness just long enough to scream again and pass out.
The wind howled — not warningly, but mournfully.
Ayisulu clung to Arslan's coat, breath shaky.
"She's not just hunting me," she whispered.
"She's trying to take me."
Arslan pulled her close, eyes burning with fear and fury both.
"She'll have to carve through all of us first."