Chapter 17: Chapter 15: The Test of the Wind

Luna and Zeph trekked through the Whispering Hills, the night air sharp and restless. The ruin was close now, its humming presence tugging at Luna’s senses, but her mind was stuck on the sigil glowing on her cottage door. Her pendant pulsed faintly, a quiet warning that kept her on edge.

Zeph walked ahead, his dagger glinting in the moonlight, his usual grin replaced by a focused scowl. “Stay sharp,” he muttered. “If the cult’s marking your door, they’re not far.”

Luna nodded, her bare feet sinking into the cool grass. The dream’s black ocean still lingered in her mind, her father’s voice—Break the seal—mixing with the cult’s whispers of Moon’s Vessel. She gripped the pendant, its warmth steadying her. “Zeph, what if the ruin’s a trap? They know we’re coming.”

He glanced back, his hazel eyes catching the starlight. “Then we spring it on our terms. You’re the Moonborn, Luna. They’re scared of you, not the other way around.” His words were firm, but the way his hand stayed near his dagger told her he was worried too.

The path opened to a clearing, where a narrow sky bridge stretched across a chasm, swaying gently in the wind. The ruin’s entrance loomed on the other side, carved into a cliff, its stones humming louder now. Luna’s pendant pulsed in sync, and a gust of wind whipped her hair, sharp and sudden.

She froze. The air felt alive, watching her.

A voice, dry and sarcastic, cut through the night. “Well, Moonborn, you’re bold to wander here after dark.” The wind swirled, forming a figure on the bridge—tall, with flowing robes that shimmered like clouds. Caelion, the Wind King, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Care to cross my bridge? Or are you too busy drowning fields?”

Luna’s cheeks burned, but she stepped forward, her voice steady. “I didn’t mean to flood anything. I’m learning.”

Caelion’s laugh was like a gust.

“Learning? You’re a storm in a girl’s skin, and you don’t even know it.” He leaned closer, his form flickering.

“Prove you’re worth my mark. Tell me a truth—one that scares you.”

Luna’s throat tightened. Zeph gave her a nod, his hand still on his dagger, watching the shadows. She took a breath, the wind tugging at her dress.

“I’m scared I’m what they say—the Moon’s Vessel. That I’ll destroy everything. My powers… they’re growing, and I don’t know if I can control them. Or if I’m strong enough to stop… him.” Her voice cracked on the last word, her father’s shadow heavy in her mind.

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Caelion’s eyes narrowed, the wind stilling for a moment. “Good. Fear’s honest. Most lie to themselves.” He raised a hand, and the bridge trembled, the wind howling around it. “Cross it. Show me you mean it.”

Luna glanced at Zeph, who mouthed, “You got this.” She stepped onto the bridge, her bare feet gripping the swaying ropes. The chasm below was a dark maw, and her pendant pulsed, hot and urgent. Halfway across, the wind surged, nearly knocking her off.

Her heart pounded, but she focused, reaching for the air like she had with the water. It resisted, wild and sharp, but she whispered to it, her voice soft but firm. “Work with me.”

The wind softened, just enough. She reached the other side, legs shaking but standing. Caelion appeared again, smirking. “Not bad.” He pressed a finger to her wrist, and a sharp gust carved a wind mark beside Keolora’s water mark—a swirling spiral that tingled with power. “You’re mine now, too. Don’t make me regret it.”

Before Luna could reply, shouts echoed from the village below.

Torches flickered in the distance, moving fast. Zeph tensed, his dagger ready. “Trouble.”

They hurried to the cliff’s edge, peering down. A group of villagers, led by Mara the weaver, stood in Velmora’s square, their voices carrying on the wind. “She called another storm!” Mara yelled, pointing to the sky where clouds churned, dark and heavy. “The Moonborn’s cursed us!”

Luna’s stomach dropped. “I didn’t—”

she started, but the wind roared, and lightning cracked, illuminating the village. Rain began to fall, hard and sudden. Her pendant flared, hot against her skin, and she realized it wasn’t her doing. The storm felt wrong, heavy, like the black ocean in her dream.

Zeph grabbed her arm. “That’s not you. Look.” He pointed to a figure at the edge of the village, cloaked and still, their hand raised as if guiding the storm. A cult sigil glowed faintly on their sleeve.

“The cult,” Luna whispered, her voice shaking. “They’re making it look like me.”

Mara’s voice rose again. “She’ll destroy us! The Moon’s Vessel brings ruin!” The villagers’ shouts grew louder, some clutching pitchforks, others looking scared but angry. One man, his face shadowed, muttered something about “her father’s curse,” and Luna’s blood ran cold.

Zeph pulled her back from the edge. “We can’t stay. They’re turning on you, and the cult’s fanning the flames. We need to get to the ruin, find answers before this gets worse.”

Luna nodded, her new wind mark tingling as the storm raged below. “But they think it’s me. I can’t just run.”

“You’re not running,” Zeph said, his eyes fierce. “You’re fighting. For the truth. For Mira. For you.” He squeezed her shoulder, his grin flickering.

“Besides, you’ve got wind now. Let’s see what you can do with it.”

She took a shaky breath, the pendant’s glow steadying her. Caelion’s voice lingered in her mind: Fear’s honest.

She wasn’t the destroyer they feared, but she had to prove it—to the villagers, to the cult, to herself. The ruin was her next step, and whatever her father and the cult were planning, she’d face it. With Zeph. With the wind.

They turned toward the ruin’s entrance, the storm’s roar fading behind them.

But the weight of the villagers’ words—and that cloaked figure’s sigil—followed her into the dark.

To be continued…