Chapter 12

What Still Stands

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Later that morning.

Oh. Hey there.

Hey…

That’s your village, right?

It was.

Was?

The Empire took it from me.

I heard about last night.

My master and I came in on the Zephyr.

From Caelion.

With The Zephyr?

Not officially.

Not like soldiers or anything.

We’re traveling scribes.

We came with them, but we’re staying to record what happened here.

Is that what scribes do?

In part.

Who do you think writes all the books?

I never really thought about it.

Do you read?

Yes.

A lot.

Well, good.

Not many people our age say that.

How many books have you written?

None.

My master writes the books.

I mostly carry the ink.

Then why do it?

Because I get to travel.

And I’d rather draw the world than sit in one place forever.

That’s really good.

Thanks.

I’m Ryder, by the way.

Ryder Parven.

Kaze.

One day.

I want to see every continent.

Draw every city, every village, every road between them.

The famous places. The forgotten ones. All of it.

I envy you.

Why?

I thought I knew where my life was going.

Finish my training at the Wind Temple.

Come home.

Use what I learned to keep my home safe.

Oh.

For what it’s worth.

it’s still here.

So are you.

I mean… aside from the black eye.

Which is pretty bad.

Sorry.

That was supposed to sound encouraging.

HA HA HA!

There it is.

From up here.

Yeah.

It does.

it almost looks peaceful.

Sylvarra Village

The village is not yet whole...

Kaze found himself walking back home out of habit...

He caught himself.

Figured you’d come before the road took you.

I’m leaving.

Aye.

Thought as much.

Darius and I are going to the Wind Temple first.

Master Quinn may know what happened.

What the Empire wanted.

And after?

We follow them.

The words settled between them like iron cooling.

Part of me wants to stand in the road myself.

Keep you here where I can see you.

I can’t stay here, Papa.

I know, my boy.

That’s why I won’t stop you.

She finished this while you were away.

She gave it to me the night I came home.

Aye.

She was impossible those last few days.

Fussing over every seam.

Muttering about the color.

Asking if the stitching looked crooked.

She was proud of you.

More than she knew how to say.

Carry that too.

Not only the hurt.

There’s something else.

Where did you get that?

From your house.

After they took you to the clinic.

Found it beneath broken wood.

I told you your father made this.

But not what it was.

The steel was wind-touched while it was forged.

Stronger than it has any right to be.

Perfectly balanced. Lighter than it should be.

That’s why it feels like that.

Aye.

There’s a wind crystal beneath the wrap.

Hidden there.

Not for ornament.

For channeling.

Channeling?

When you draw on your magic, don’t force it into the blade.

Breathe first.

Let the crystal catch the current.

Then guide it into the steel.

He made it for me.

Aye. He wanted it waiting for you.

But hear me well, my boy.

A blade that answers your grief will answer your anger too.

So when you draw it, know what you are feeding it.

I don’t know how to do this without being angry.

Then be angry.

Be angry for your mother.

Be angry for every soul here who woke to fire and steel.

But do not let anger be the only thing left of you.

Seek answers.

Seek justice if you must.

But do not lose the boy your mother loved so dearly.

I don’t know if I can promise that.

Then promise you’ll try.

I’ll try.

Come back home, my boy.

I’ll try Papa.