The silence no longer felt empty.
It felt… watching.
Elian stood still, his chest rising and falling slowly. The pain in his body hadn't faded, but something else had taken its place—something steadier.
Awareness.
The man observed him carefully.
"You adapted faster than I expected," he said.
Elian didn't answer.
His focus remained sharp, his senses stretched in a way he didn't fully understand.
"I told you," Elian said quietly, "I don't need the wind."
The man's gaze deepened.
"No," he replied. "You misunderstand."
A step forward.
"You were never using the wind."
Elian frowned.
"What are you talking about?"
The man stopped a few steps away.
"The wind… was using you."
Those words lingered.
Heavy.
Unsettling.
"That doesn't make sense," Elian said. "It protected me."
"Yes," the man said calmly. "Because you are valuable."
A chill ran down Elian's spine.
"Valuable… to who?"
The man didn't hesitate.
"To the sky."
Silence.
Elian shook his head. "You're not making any sense."
The man raised his hand slowly—this time, not to attack.
Above them, the branches trembled.
Not from wind.
But from pressure.
"Look up," he said.
Elian hesitated… then did.
Through the gaps in the trees, the night sky stretched endlessly above.
Dark.
Vast.
And filled with something he had never noticed before.
Movement.
Not clouds.
Not stars.
Something else.
Faint currents—like invisible rivers flowing across the sky.
"That…" Elian whispered.
"The world you know is only the surface," the man said. "What you call 'wind' is merely a fragment of something far greater."
Elian couldn't look away.
"It's… alive?"
The man didn't answer directly.
"It listens."
Elian's heart skipped.
"And sometimes…" the man continued,
"…it chooses."
A sudden memory flashed through Elian's mind—
The voice.
The warning.
The storm.
"You are chosen."
He clenched his fists.
"…Why me?"
The man studied him.
"For the same reason others like you exist."
Elian snapped his gaze back down.
"Others?"
The man nodded slightly.
"Fire. Water. Earth. Sky."
Each word felt heavier than the last.
"This world is not ruled by kings," the man continued.
"It is shaped by those who can command its foundations."
Elian's breath slowed.
"So… I'm not the only one."
"No," the man said.
A pause.
"…but you are rare."
Elian's expression hardened.
"Then what about you?"
Silence.
For the first time—
The man didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked up at the sky.
"I am what remains," he said quietly,
"…when the wind is taken away."
Elian felt it again.
That unnatural stillness.
That absence.
"You don't control wind," Elian said slowly.
"You erase it."
The man's eyes returned to him.
"And yet," he said,
"I am still standing."
A realization hit Elian.
Hard.
"You're… like me."
The man smiled faintly.
"Not quite."
Before Elian could react—
The man stepped closer.
Fast.
Too fast.
Elian barely had time to move before the man's hand was inches from his chest—
—but it stopped.
Right there.
The air between them trembled.
Elian's eyes widened.
Something had blocked it.
Not wind.
Not visible.
But real.
The man slowly lowered his hand.
"…interesting," he murmured.
Elian stared at his own hands.
"I didn't… do anything…"
"Yes," the man said softly.
"You did."
Silence fell once more.
Then—
The man turned away.
"Come," he said.
Elian blinked.
"…What?"
"If you stay here," the man continued, "you will die the moment the sky finds you again."
Elian's chest tightened.
"You mean… that thing will come back?"
The man didn't look at him.
"It never left."
A cold fear settled in.
Elian hesitated.
"Why are you helping me?"
The man stopped walking.
For a moment—
He said nothing.
Then, quietly:
"I'm not helping you."
He glanced back slightly.
"I'm deciding whether you're worth saving."
Elian stood there, frozen.
Then slowly—
He took a step forward.
Not because he trusted the man.
But because—
He had nowhere else to go.
Above them—
The sky shifted.
Watching.
Waiting.