Wind Whisperer

The Wind's First Whispers

The damp, earthy smell choked Lyaen as she crouched in the darkness. Her ears caught the quiet breathing of the elite as they waited with her, accompanied by the occasional clink of mail. If she listened hard enough, she could hear the faint sounds of the dining hall above them where a slew of Cambrion's finest sat feasting, unaware of what was below. To rest her sore ankles, which were burning like hellfire, Lyaen leaned slightly against the cold stone behind her and immediately regretted it. It was like resting against death's refrigerator and she shivered as the wet leaked into her clothes.

To distract herself, Lyaen forced her mind to wander. She thought of all those she loved: her family, her deceased mentor, Braen, Jerud...Her throat caught then. What would he and the others do without her? If Lyaen died, there would be no one to mentor the next Wind Core. The thought of someone dealing with that kind of thing alone with no explanation...it drove icy nails into her heart. I was about ready to be burned at the stake when my mentor found me, she thought, shivering at the possibilities that could befall an unmentored Core.

Her thoughts snapped back to the ones she would be leaving behind. Would they wither and die without someone to take care of them? Would their minds  fall away like the Coals, or will they just step into seclusion like the Lightning?

A small whistle jerked her attention to the present situation, her body snapping into position unconsciously. All eyes were trained on Braen's glove on the hatch that led to the hall. Her body was a coiled spring, twisted as tight as it could go, begging for action. They waited.

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Groaning, I woke up to nails being driven into my head by a demonic builder.

Well, not literally but that's what it felt like. Putting a tentative hand to my forehead, I felt a soft bandage covering it and a bump that probably was the size of New Jersey. A glance to the side told me I was in my living room, apparent from the deep purple drapes that had been closed so I could sleep. Now that we're on the subject...who the hell's been taking care of me? I sat up quickly at the terrifying thought, imagining rapists who comfort their victim, earning trust, then strikes. A groan issued from my lips at the quick movement however, eliciting a cacophony of sharp pains all over my body. Having rocks and glass being flung at you will do that.

My caretaker must have heard me, for a rustle sounded from the kitchen the moment I made sound. Freezing up in dread, it was as if someone had dipped me in an ice bath. My blood pumped frantically, and I judged how fast I could get to the door. I really should've ran right then, but something kept me nailed to the spot. It could have been curiosity or pure fear, but maybe something different altogether. Something I couldn't identify.

The first thing I noticed was how quiet he was. A faint rustle that reminded me of the wings of a butterfly was the only thing I could hear as he strode into the room. The wood floor didn't even creak under his tall frame, and it didn't help my nerves that were already on end. As he drew closer I grew stiffer and stiffer,my breath shortening with every step. It seemed like it took forever for him to cross the lavender room, but in reality it was probably a few seconds.

"Are you okay?" there was a deep concern in his golden brown eyes that made my heart melt. However, I flinched instinctively when he reached his long, slender fingers towards my forehead. Drawing back quickly, his face flashed into a slightly hurt expression making me feel guilty. Why are you feeling guilty?! This random stranger has no right to touch you!

Nevertheless I stumbled to create an excuse, "I-I...it just...hurts that's all." He raised an eyebrow and gave me a full grin in a you-dirty-liar expression. Flushing red I stuttered, "I-I  just, just don't know you, a-and..." He held up a hand, gesturing me to cease while he held back a chuckle.