“Child of the Wind”

  They call me “light,” “carefree,” “always smiling.”

  But those who say that don’t know where I come from.

  I was born among the Manakhs—a nomadic tribe of wind mages.

  Our tents swayed to the desert’s breath,

  our songs were carried away by the sky,

  our bodies were light,

  and our souls—free.

  I grew up among people for whom wind was not an element, but a part of the body.

  It was our friend, our guide, our adviser.

  My first step was a step against the wind.

  My first laughter was laughter lifted into the air, as high as the roof of a tent.

  My first sleep was beneath the song of the night breeze.

  But from early childhood, I was told:

  “Kairen, remember. Wind is freedom.

  And freedom is what the other elements fear.”

  The tribes of water, fire, earth…

  We were not their enemies.

  But they were enemies to one another.

  Water held resentment toward fire.

  Earth hated air.

  Fire envied water.

  And so it went, endlessly.

  But we, the Manakhs, stood outside these wars.

  We crossed the land without leaving traces.

  Even when conflict raged around us,

  we were like the shadow of the wind—we did not touch it.

  That was how it was… until I broke the rule.

  I was ten.

  We had stopped near an oasis.

  I decided to go farther—deeper into the rocks and tall grass.

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  There, I saw three:

  a mage of earth,

  a mage of water,

  and a mage of fire.

  Their shouts sounded as if the elements themselves were arguing.

  Stones flew toward water.

  Water drowned fire.

  Fire dissolved into steam and licked the ground.

  I watched, not understanding—

  they were the same age.

  Children.

  But they had been taught to hate.

  I did what I knew how to do:

  a wind push.

  A sharp gust.

  The three were thrown apart.

  — Stop! — I said.

  — Why are you fighting?

  They looked at me like I was an outsider.

  Water sneered:

  — Air? Weakling.

  Fire laughed:

  — Ha! Thinks he’s better than us?

  Earth said coldly:

  — You don’t belong here.

  And then…

  the water mage hurled an icy mass at me.

  Straight into my face.

  I laughed.

  It was… pleasant.

  The children united against me.

  Those who a moment ago hated one another

  now stood shoulder to shoulder, advancing on me.

  And for the first time, I saw it:

  shared hatred is stronger than personal hatred.

  I ran.

  My laughter still rang in my ears—

  but it vanished when I saw my home camp.

  Our camp was on fire.

  Water and fire mages—

  the same children, now with adults from their tribes—

  had attacked.

  We were a light people, fast, strong…

  but not warriors.

  We could raise a storm.

  But we could not stop flame and ice spears at the same time.

  That day, six wind mages died.

  Among them—my best friend, Arlen.

  His body was pierced by water and earth at once.

  This was not a fight.

  It was hatred he did not deserve.

  I stood over his body.

  Light. Cold.

  And for the first time, the wind did not carry the pain away—

  it brought it back, like an echo.

  That day, I came to hate the other elements.

  Not people.

  Not mages.

  But the way they used power—

  like a knife to murder someone else’s freedom.

  When I entered the Grand Academy,

  I saw something different.

  No one was divided by element.

  No one was scorned for their gift.

  No one said, “Fire is worse than water,” or “Air is weaker than earth.”

  Everyone stood side by side.

  Everyone studied together.

  I was shocked.

  It felt like I had stepped into a world our shaman had only dreamed of—

  a world where the elements did not wage war.

  But…

  when I saw Finn—the laughing fire aristocrat,

  and Helvard, who wielded ice better than water—

  something inside me tightened.

  “Fire and water killed Arlen.

  I must stay alert.”

  I did not trust them.

  Even though Finn was loud and foolish at first…

  and Helvard seemed weak and quiet—

  inside me, there was a wind of unease.

  But everything changed in the first difficult cave.

  When black goblins charged at us,

  I… froze.

  Maybe it was fear.

  Maybe the memory of that day.

  But I saw Helvard turn to me and shout:

  — Raynar! Protect Helvard!

  He entrusted me… with his life.

  And Finn, standing in front,

  burned a beast that could have killed us.

  And I understood:

  they were not my enemies.

  Not elements.

  Not children of those who killed Arlen.

  But my comrades.

  Mages, swordsmen, air, fire, ice—

  for the first time, none of it mattered.

  Only one thing mattered:

  we stood together.

  And I finally breathed freely—

  not as a nomad, not as an outsider,

  but as part of the class.