※※5※※

  .

  It was a violent, forced abortion. I was barely seven, hiding at the back of the dark, charred kitchen stove.

  I remembered there were officials in white clothes, their faces blurred, and red fluid flowing from my Mom and everywhere.

  Eventually, I gathered the courage.

  “Drakos, my youngest sister, ?ri’-E?r?y, do you remember her?”

  Drakos nodded, sensing my desire to uncover the ones responsible. Their faces remained indistinct, but the woman with the loud propaganda announcement stepped forward to carry out her so-called duty—a duty beyond my understanding as a six-year-old who had never heard such streaks of screams from my mother…

  “The wind of your consciousness is acting up, ?ri’-verā. I wonder what good it would do you to know whatever happened and whoever did it.”

  I thought back to Master’s words: The wind is the bridge between what is and what was. Between what is present and what flows beyond.

  “We always get consumed with the whispers, roars, and intentions of this fierce element of the mundane world, with vulnerable people like us abiding in it… The elements are all that we are made of. You should pay attention to this specific teaching. Don’t think of it as a burden to your theoretical learning. Now—our feelings, our thoughts, our movements, our consciousness. The wind holds it all. Playing our being with it.”

  “But how could I ever forget and forgive…?”

  “?ri’-verā: Earth for stability, Water for adaptability, Fire for transformation, and this, Wind for movement; you must succumb to it and use it to your own advantage—for stability, adaptability, and transformation.”

  I nodded, and Drakos followed suit, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yes. And beyond movement, Wind is the all-encompassing force of consciousness. It’s the energy that drives all of existence. Together, they embody the grounding force of our being. When we exhale for the last time—when we die—it’s the Wind—consciousness—that pushes our soul from our body. At that moment, you’ll face regrets, hatred, the unforgettable, and the forgivable. Wouldn’t it be better to confront and get rid of them while we’re still alive, still in control of our own consciousness?”

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  Drakos’s voice grew quieter, almost a whisper. My breath hitched. His words echoed within me, lighting up corners of my mind I hadn’t dared to explore before. I wanted to believe it all.

  But belief was one thing. Feeling it was another.

  I clenched my fists at my sides, my heartbeat hammering in my ears like the wind itself trying to break through the barriers I had built.

  Drakos watched me carefully. “You’re afraid.”

  I let out a slow breath. “Yes. And I hate that I am.”

  “There’s no shame in fear, ?ri. Fear is movement too. Fear shifts us, forces us to confront what we’d rather ignore. Just like the wind, fear is a force. But whether it carries you forward or pushes you back—that choice is yours.”

  I stared at him, his golden eyes reflecting the fading light of the sky. He made it sound so simple.

  Could I do that?

  The thought of ?ri’-E?r?y’s fetus dropped like a blop, resurfacing again. Although Mom survived the pain and sorrow, her willpower faded, as did the power that had surged through her in those moments.

  Master had once instructed me that whenever she thought of this, she would need someone to confide in, as though I were her confession priest. But each time, her face grew more distorted and dimmer. “Now is the time to understand existence itself,” she said, though I neither understood nor could understand what she meant.

  I clenched my jaw. “Say no more, Drakos. Yes, dear Drakos, eternally, I salute Master, I love you, and all who teach. But I couldn’t lie to myself: fear and desperation still gripped me.”

  Drakos’s expression softened. “Then hold onto that belief. Let it be the starting point, not the end. Fear doesn’t vanish overnight. It lingers, but so does the wind. One day, you’ll let it carry you instead of fighting against it.”

  I let my gaze drift to the horizon. The wind pressed against me, not as an enemy, but as something that had always been there, waiting. Maybe, just maybe, I was ready to listen.

  “Enough with the shenanigans, Drakos,” I snapped, my voice sharp, the wild side returning. “I’m not a kid anymore. And now I am a superlade!”

  “Haha. Not to that extent, yes. We still have a lot of work to do… mainly the boring stuff, you know, training on chanting, meditating, and building the power of the chakra lights.”

  I wanted my words to sound solid, confident, but I felt the cracks forming inside me. I wasn’t ready for this—whatever this was. And Drakos, I’m sorry—there was fear. Real fear. And now, I understood—desperation.

  “You’re restless, though,” he murmured, his amber eyes soft as they studied me.

  “Restless?” I shot back, crossing my arms tightly. “Try cornered. I’ve spent my life feeling like this, Drakos—like the world’s constantly trying to shove me into a box that doesn’t fit. Don’t talk to me about restless.”

  Yes, I needed to rest. There was a bonfire even before I finished my thought. Drakos sat down, using his belly as my pillow. Soon, I couldn’t hold my eyelids open anymore and fell into a deep sleep…