The breeze thickened around him. It was not the wind of the outside world. It was not the air he knew.
This was living air.
Air that pierced, that passed through, that moved unseen.
He felt every vibration in his arms, his legs. Even in his heart.
Kazuhan watched him without a word.
— Close your eyes. Let your body breathe, not your mind. The wind cannot be tamed with thought. It does not live in your head.
Garlan nodded slowly and closed his eyes. His breathing steadied. The world around him faded. He focused on the air—on the tingling in his skin. This was not mere air. It was a substance. An energy. Almost alive.
— That is how a wind dragon moves, said Kazuhan. But that is for the elder ones. For those with centuries to train. You have one hour.
A cold shiver rushed through Garlan’s veins. One hour? Just one hour to grasp the ungraspable?
He drew a deep breath and stretched his arms forward. The wind stirred around him—gentle, warm, but unsteady. It needed to cover him, to embrace him.
The first current was too weak. He collapsed onto the ground. His right arm lost control. The wind slid through his fingers like cloth too fine to hold.
Kazuhan did not move.
— Again.
Garlan rose, trembling. He shut his eyes, breathed once more, forcing his mind to still.
The wind… it was not something to command. It was something to become.
He felt the air draw near. Faint at first. Then stronger. The wind brushed his arms, his palms. He had to welcome it. Let it into his muscles, his skin.
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Then suddenly he felt pressure. Gentle, at first. Then stronger. He forced it to hold.
— Good, said Kazuhan.
But before he could savor that first success, the wind lashed out violently around him. It howled. Garlan lost his balance, fell backward, his legs kicking reflexively.
He groaned. Kazuhan did nothing. He waited.
— A mistake. Not an end.
Garlan rose again, teeth clenched. He focused. The wind. He wasn’t here to conquer it. He was here to yield to it.
The air swelled again. But this time, he felt it. He sensed the wind. He saw its shape—the shiver in invisible crowds, the hidden turmoil beneath its flowing currents.
His arms became faintly veiled in wind, a translucent skin. Weak, barely enough to keep him standing.
He locked onto the sensation. Amplified it. Breathed harder, but the breeze turned violent, too violent. He lost control again—
and a whirlwind spun him off his feet, slamming him into a stone column.
— Again, said Kazuhan. One hour, young dragon. One hour to understand.
Garlan panted, arms stretched to the sky. The air around him crackled like unseen lightning.
He closed his eyelids tight. The wind roared in his ears. He focused on his feet, on the ground beneath his toes. The air passed—beneath him, around him. But he had to anchor.
He pressed his hands to the earth.
And as he focused, a current of pure wind formed in his palms—like an invisible shield. He dug his fingers into the ground, and the air gathered around him, quivering, dancing in space. He held it. Stubborn.
He opened his eyes. He had done it. A wind. His wind. Solid. Sharp. The air moved within him.
Kazuhan studied him a moment, then slowly nodded.
— Do you know what this is?
Garlan lowered his head, exhausted but satisfied.
— I know what I have to do.
Kazuhan inclined his head once more. He knew Garlan had crossed an important threshold. Not a victory, but a transformation. A fusion with the air. Only a beginning. But a powerful one.
Garlan closed his eyes for a moment. The wind around him seemed to steady. He raised his arms, his body wrapped in that skin of air—fragile still, but his. He made sure he could hold it. For a few seconds. For a minute.
He had his armor. Not the ancient dragons’ armor, but his own. Alive. Breathing.
Kazuhan stepped forward slowly.
— You are not finished. But you have accepted. And that is where true power lies.
Garlan smiled faintly. He knew the battle had only just begun.
