The first light of dawn crept over Lowreach, painting the village in soft gold.
Eryndor Vale stirred beneath his thin blanket, the cool breeze drifting through the open window brushing his face. For a moment, he lingered in the quiet comfort of sleep, but the sounds outside quickly pulled him awake.
Cries of triumph.
Laughter.
The subtle roar of elemental power being born.
He swung his legs off the bed and padded barefoot across the floorboards. From the window, he could see the villagers already gathering in the square. Today was the awakening ceremony, and the air was alive with expectation.
Across the field, children younger than him had already awakened. One boy's Fire core flared crimson and gold, lifting a faint heat that made the air shimmer. A girl's Water core spilled into a delicate arc of silver-blue droplets, forming shapes that danced around her hands. Another boy's Earth core shifted the soil beneath his feet into a small ridge, steady and unyielding.
Everyone watched. Everyone applauded. Everyone celebrated the confirmation of a future.
And Eryndor… he had yet to feel anything.
He lowered himself onto the edge of the wooden platform he often trained on, arms resting on his knees. His gaze lingered on the crystal at the center of the square, suspended in its usual pedestal. Stories told that it responded instantly to the heart of a child, revealing the element they would inherit.
He exhaled slowly. Tomorrow, it would be his turn.
And he would… fail.
His hand brushed against his chest. Nothing.
The other children's awakenings continued. Fire flared. Water flowed. Earth hardened. Lightning sparked. Wind danced. Each display brought gasps, cheers, and the occasional bow of gratitude from proud parents. The ritual of life itself seemed to mock him, reminding him how late he was, how ordinary, how behind.
Kael appeared at the edge of the field, leaning casually against a post. Even without trying, heat radiated faintly from him—a reminder of his Fire affinity and his punctual awakening.
"You're staring again," Kael said, voice low, teasing but careful. "Don't let them see you sweat."
"I'm not sweating," Eryndor replied, though his stomach knotted.
Kael smirked. "Sure."
The time came. Elder Marrec stepped forward, his long robes whispering over the stone. He gestured for silence. The square stilled. Even the wind seemed to pause.
"Eryndor Vale," the elder said. His eyes swept the crowd, lingering on the boy at the edge of the platform. "Step forward."
Eryndor rose, legs stiff, heart hammering, and walked toward the crystal. Every step felt heavier than the last, though the stone beneath his feet hadn't changed. He pressed his palm against the cool surface.
The crowd waited.
Nothing happened.
The crystal remained dim, inert. The whispers began almost immediately:
"Late again."
"Wind… probably weak."
"He won't awaken."
Eryndor's chest tightened. A small bead of sweat traced the side of his temple. He closed his eyes, focusing inward, willing something—anything—to respond.
And then it came.
Not a surge. Not a flare. Not a show for the crowd. Just a pull—a faint, deliberate current that moved through him like air pressed into a bottle, restrained but conscious. The crystal flickered green, condensing its glow into a narrow ring deep within its core.
The villagers gasped, confused. The elders exchanged glances. This was not ordinary.
Eryndor felt the air swirl lightly around him, as if acknowledging him. Not violently. Not dramatically. But with intention.
"Element confirmed," Elder Marrec said at last. "Wind affinity."
The crowd fell silent. Wind. Ordinary. Expected. Disappointing.
Yet Eryndor felt it. Something alive. Something unusual. Something aware.
The elders muttered among themselves. "His core… irregular," one said.
"Too weak," another dismissed.
Kael's heat flared faintly beside him. "Looks like no one knows what to do with you," he muttered.
Eryndor pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the subtle pulse beneath his sternum. "Neither do I," he whispered.
The wind stirred again, curling around him, brushing his sleeve. No one else noticed. No one else could feel it.
But Eryndor did.
And somewhere beyond the hills of Lowreach, beyond the distant continents, the wind shifted as if in response