I’m stronger than this.
The words have become my lifeline, warming me with their promise as I whisper them in my frozen cell.
Ruined Northerlies tear at my hair, my skin, the flimsy fabric of my dress. The rough stone floor cuts into my bare legs. Still, I don’t move—don’t blink—as I count my shallow breaths. Waiting for Raiden to return.
Whatever he has planned, whatever horrors lie ahead . . .
I’m stronger.
I have to be.
For Gus.
For the Gales.
For Vane.
Thinking his name should claw at my heart with longing and regret.
Instead, I feel nothing.
No pull.
No pain.
Just an empty void where something precious used to be.
But it’s gone now.
All that remains is a ghost of a memory that would almost feel more like a dream—if it weren’t for the calm breeze wrapped around me.
I can no longer understand its words, but I know the gentle Westerly is loyal.
And that gives me the courage I need.
Raiden has power and pain on his side.
But I have the wind.
Change is in the air—I can feel it as clearly as I can hear the brave melodies of the untainted drafts slipping through the cracks of Raiden’s supposedly impenetrable fortress.
A hum building to a crescendo.
The wind starting to rise.