Windswept Mercy

The tall grass-fence encircling the sacred stone seemed to hum with latent energy as Liora stood atop the glowing platform. The world around her shimmered briefly, and before she could process what was happening, she found herself transported into another dimension—a vast green field bathed in warm sunlight.

It felt eerily familiar, reminiscent of the environment where she had first encountered Solara, though there were subtle differences this time . About a hundred meters ahead, Liora noticed two figures perched atop a small hill.

Her curiosity piqued, she began walking cautiously toward them, each step accompanied by the gentle rustling of grass and flowers swaying in the breeze.

As she drew closer, details came into focus. Two wooden poles stood side by side—one shaped like a letter "T," likely used as a perch for birds, and the other resembling a small goalpost.

Chained to the latter was a goblin, its head bowed dejectedly. Perched confidently on the horizontal beam of the goalpost-shaped pole was an eagle—a harpy eagle, not overly large but commanding nonetheless.

Its feathers were predominantly light brown, accented with dark brown, deep red, and hints of black along its neck, wings, and tail. Most striking were its eyes: glowing white with vertical pupils of dark red, framed by sharp, elongated eyebrows that added an intimidating edge to its piercing gaze .

Liora stopped about four or five meters away from the creatures, taking a moment to survey her surroundings. She glanced left and right, behind her, and even upward at the bright, clear sky.

Suddenly, a voice startled her. "Looking for something, girl?" Liora took a couple of steps back instinctively, gripping her staff tightly. Her eyes darted toward the eagle, certain now that the voice had come from it.

Summoning courage, she stammered, "Ar-are you... th-the one who's talking ju-just now?". The eagle responded sharply, its tone laced with irritation. "Yes, I am. You have a problem with that?" Its fierce glare intensified, causing Liora to flinch slightly.

She quickly tried to defuse the misunderstanding. "N-no, absolutely not. I-I'm just a little bit shocked." The eagle sighed audibly, muttering under its breath. "Are you really the chosen one at all?"

Liora chuckled awkwardly, her hesitation evident. "I've been told that before, so I guess I am?".

The eagle groaned in frustration. "Uurrgghh... you don't even know for sure? You're starting to get on my nerves, you know?" Liora winced, offering a sheepish apology. "I-I'm sorry."

Rolling its eyes, the eagle pressed further. "Do you at least have an idea of what I am?" Liora hesitated again before answering tentatively, "I'm not sure, but... are you an ancient beast?"

Relief washed over the eagle's expression—or as close to relief as such a stern creature could muster. "Oh, thank God. At least I don't have to explain myself." Liora giggled nervously, feeling a tiny bit of guilt for having caused the delay .

Suddenly, the eagle spread its wings and launched itself at incredible speed toward the "T"-shaped wooden platform. Liora blinked, momentarily disoriented by the blur of motion.

When she realized the bird had relocated, she blurted out in astonishment, "Holy mother of light, are you teleporting?" The eagle chuckled sarcastically. "I'll pretend I didn't hear those words you just said." Liora flushed with embarrassment, scrambling to salvage the situation. "I-I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to be impolite."

The eagle tilted its head forward slightly, its gaze sharpening with lethal intent. "What makes you think I'm a *sir*? Are you bored with this life and wish to move on to another?" Panic surged through Liora, who shook her head vigorously. "N-no, ma'am! I apologize. I should have asked first. Please forgive me."

The eagle rolled its eyes, shaking its head dismissively. "Yeah, whatever. Watch your words from now on."

Liora nodded fervently. "Y-yes, understood, ma'am." Satisfied—for now—the eagle continued. "Alright, let's not waste any more time. I assume you already know how this works."

"Pass the trial, and my power will be yours—though it's hard for me to cope with that idea."

Liora laughed awkwardly, attempting to lighten the mood. "Alright, ma'am. Please go easy on me."

The eagle scoffed. "That's something I won't do for sure." Pausing briefly, it added, "Now, tell me your name, girl." Liora stuttered slightly. "L-Liora, ma'am. Liora Belle."

Nodding curtly, the eagle replied, "Alright, Liora. Call me Sylphine—or Sylph, if you prefer. Makes no difference to me. Now, I'll teach you my skills. Once you master them, we'll proceed to the trial. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Liora responded promptly .

Sylphine wasted no time getting started. "Be ready. Watch and learn." With a powerful flap of her wings, she sent a dense gust of wind hurtling forward in the shape of a crescent moon with razor-sharp edges.

The projectile sliced cleanly through every blade of tall grass in its path, leaving a visible trail of destruction. Turning back to Liora, Sylphine asked pointedly, "Can you see it, girl?"

Liora nodded confidently, signaling her understanding. Sylphine elaborated, "As you can see, my element is wind. Though it's shapeless and colorless, when gathered and condensed with mana, it can take any form you desire—sharp objects, blunt ones, small or large."

"By altering the attributes of your mana, you can make the wind either harmful or harmless. You already know this, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am. I've been taught about it before," Liora confirmed earnestly. Sylphine nodded approvingly. "Good. Now, try creating your own application of this element."

"To make it easier for you, I'll transfer some of my elemental signature to help you absorb the essence of the wind around you."

"Thank you, ma'am," Liora replied gratefully, bowing slightly. Following instructions, she stretched out her arm.

Sylphine flew gracefully to land on Liora's forearm, channeling a surge of mana into her before returning to her perch.

Immediately, Liora felt a rush of energy and knowledge flood her senses. For the first time, she could perceive the flow of wind currents, visualizing the delicate threads they wove as they moved.

"Now gather the wind, condense it, and shape it however you want," Sylphine instructed firmly. "Don't forget to imbue your mana with purpose as you mold it."

Liora nodded resolutely, focusing intently. She summoned strands of wind, weaving them together until they formed a crescent-shaped blade similar to the one Sylphine had demonstrated.

Sharpening its edges with precision, she released it toward a random direction. The blade shot forward effortlessly, slicing through the grass with surgical accuracy.

A wide grin spread across Liora's face as she turned to Sylphine, expecting praise. Instead, Sylphine clapped her wings lightly, sending a sudden gust of wind that pushed Liora back a step.

"Are you a parrot or something? Why are you mimicking my moves? Try again and use your creativity!"

Liora stammered, flustered. "Y-yes, ma'am. I'm sorry."

For hours—or perhaps days; time flowed differently here—Liora trained relentlessly under Sylphine's harsh tutelage. Failure became routine, with her success rate dwarfed by countless misfires.

Yet, despite the constant nagging and occasional punishment, Liora persevered. Each failure fueled her determination rather than discouraging her.

Sylphine's methods were brutal; whenever Liora faltered, the eagle would unleash tiny razor-sharp wind blades, leaving shallow cuts across her skin. These wounds forced Liora to reserve a portion of her mana for healing spells, lest she collapse entirely .

But adversity breeds innovation. Over time, Liora began transforming Sylphine's punishments into opportunities for growth. One particularly ingenious creation emerged during these sessions: the "Tornado Vambrace."

By wrapping her forearms with miniature tornadoes that spun rapidly, she managed to deflect incoming wind blades effectively. When Sylphine inquired about the spell's name, Liora proudly announced it with a smirk.

Irritated by her student's audacity, Sylphine retaliated by launching an onslaught of faster, deadlier blades. Though overwhelmed initially, Liora adapted, refining her technique until it became second nature .

Despite the grueling regimen, Liora harbored no resentment toward Sylphine. On the contrary, she viewed the eagle's strictness as a testament to her dedication to teaching.

Every drop of sweat, every ounce of pain—it was all part of the process. And slowly but surely, progress became undeniable. Finally, after weeks of relentless effort, Sylphine deemed Liora ready.

"Okay," the eagle declared gruffly. "I think you've mastered the element pretty well. You're ready to take the trial."

Liora nodded solemnly, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you... it's because of your teaching too." Sylphine masked her pride with characteristic sarcasm. "Yeah, yeah... whatever. Now face that creature and begin the trial already."

Turning to the chained goblin, Liora awaited further instructions. Sylphine explained coldly, "Cut the creature's limbs one by one using your new spells."

Shock rippled through Liora's body, followed swiftly by a wave of hesitation. Killing monsters in self-defense was one thing, but mutilating a helpless, restrained creature? This felt cruel—even barbaric.

Struggling internally, she glanced between Sylphine and the goblin repeatedly. Questions bubbled up inside her: Was this truly necessary? Could they change the trial somehow? But fear kept her silent.

Impatient, Sylphine snapped. "What are you waiting for? Didn't you understand the order? Or perhaps you suddenly forgot all those spells?"

Liora hesitated, torn between defiance and compliance. Sensing her wavering resolve, Sylphine threatened, "Just do it already, or I'll kick you out, and you won't gain my power."

Summoning her courage, Liora gripped her staff tightly and chanted, "Wind Cutter." A crescent-shaped blade shot forth, severing the goblin's left arm effortlessly.

The creature screeched in agony, green blood splattering everywhere. Its severed limb dangled grotesquely from the chain, swinging like a pendulum. Liora lowered her gaze, clenching her jaw tightly as she fought back tears.

Though stronger than ever before, her kind-hearted nature recoiled at the brutality of the act. Breaking the silence, Sylphine barked, "Keep going, girl."

Steeling herself, Liora straightened her posture and cast three simultaneous "Wind Cutters." Limbs thudded to the ground, blood pooling beneath the writhing goblin. Despite the carnage, Liora couldn't bring herself to look directly at the scene. Instead, she stared blankly at the ground, guilt gnawing at her conscience .

Before she could dwell too long on her remorse, Sylphine interrupted brusquely. "Be ready. The next phase is coming."

Glancing up reluctantly, Liora saw a massive troll charging toward her, wielding a colossal club. Its thunderous footsteps shook the earth, amplifying the terror induced by its deafening roar.

Unfazed by the impending danger, Liora chanted "Wind Cutter" repeatedly, unleashing a barrage of crescent blades. While the attacks inflicted significant damage, they failed to incapacitate the behemoth entirely.

Charging relentlessly, the troll closed the gap between them, roaring viciously mere meters away . Though numb emotionally, Liora maintained her composure.

Without hesitation, she invoked another spell: "Gale Force." A dense pillar of wind materialized, slamming into the troll with devastating force.

The impact sent the creature tumbling backward, vomiting blood as it rolled across the ground like a ragdoll.

Seizing the opportunity, Liora unleashed a final volley of "Wind Cutters." This time, the troll's regenerative abilities couldn't keep pace. Limb by limb, the monster was reduced to a bloody heap, its agonized groans fading into silence .

 Sylphine observed impassively, landing on the goal-shaped pole once more. "Now, finish the final phase, Liora." As if on cue, a rugged-looking man replaced the goblin, chained in the same position.

Unlike the previous victims, however, this human begged for mercy. Sobbing uncontrollably, he pleaded, "Please, don't kill me! I beg you, please! I don't wanna die!"

Liora froze, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his despair.

Memories flooded her mind—childhood moments spent playing with her mother in fields of flowers and on sunlit beaches. One particular scene of the memory was quite interesting.

It was a quiet afternoon when a young boy was playing near the side of the road, his laughter echoing faintly in the warm air. Suddenly, a man driving his cart too fast struck the boy, knocking him to the ground.

But instead of stopping to apologize or check if the child was hurt, the man released his cart and began yelling. To make matters worse, he even smacked the boy lightly on the head, blaming him for being careless.

Rose Harlan, who happened to be nearby, rushed over without hesitation. She stepped between the man and the boy, her eyes firm and voice sharp as she confronted the man.

But the man wouldn't back down. He grew louder, now directing his anger at Rose. That was when Rose, with calm fury, slapped him across the face. The street fell silent for a moment. Her voice rose above the stillness, clear and unwavering.

The man froze, then slowly, his expression softened. Realization washed over him. Embarrassed and regretful, he knelt beside the boy and began tending to his scrapes, murmuring apologies.

Afterward, Rose and her daughter Liora continued their walk home. As they turned onto a quiet lane, Liora looked up at her mother and asked, "Mom, why did you slap that man? Aren't we supposed to always be kind to others?"

Rose smiled gently, brushing a lock of hair from Liora's face. "I didn't slap him out of anger or hate, sweetheart," she said. "I did it because I care. I believe he's actually a good man—but he was in such a rush, maybe because of work, that he couldn't see the harm he'd done. I hoped the shock would wake him up, so he wouldn't make the same mistake again. Especially not one that could hurt another child."

Liora pondered this for a moment, then declared with all the confidence of a child, "So that means… I can slap Dad if he ever makes you worry again?" Rose burst into laughter and shook her head. "That's not exactly what I meant, darling."

Recalling her mother's wisdom—that punishment should stem from care and love rather than vengeance—she found renewed clarity. Mustering strength, she confronted Sylphine. "Is this man a bad guy? If he is, what crimes has he committed?"

Sylphine chuckled dismissively. "What do I care?" Liora's gaze hardened with determination. "I care."

Studying her unwavering resolve, Sylphine relented reluctantly. "Fine. He's guilty of theft, robbery, and even murder. There. Are you satisfied?" Without hesitation, Liora cast "Wind Cutter" once more.

In the blink of an eye, the man's head rolled onto the ground. Turning away, she screamed violently, releasing pent-up emotions—frustration, anger, guilt—all at once.

Sylphine flew to her shoulder, whispering softly, "Congratulations." A surge of energy coursed through Liora's body, mirroring the sensation she'd experienced upon gaining Solara's powers .

When Liora opened her eyes, she found herself back atop the stone platform, greeted by Windoria's gentle breeze and golden sunlight. Stepping down, she exited the tall grass-fence to find General Batu and Elowen waiting anxiously.

Spotting her immediately, Batu alerted Elowen. "There's your girl." Startled, Elowen turned and sprinted toward Liora, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

"Thank God, I was so worried," she murmured, holding Liora close. Overwhelmed by the warmth of her mentor's affection, Liora wrapped her arms around Elowen and broke down in tears, sobbing like a child seeking solace.

As elowen held her, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words, Liora began to calm down gradually. Still, the weight of what she'd done lingered heavily in her heart.

After several minutes, she pulled back slightly, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her robe. Her voice cracked as she spoke, barely above a whisper. "I really hate this trial, Elowen," she said, voice raw and trembling.

"I don't understand why those ancient beings gave such a trial. Did they want to change me into someone I hate? Or is it just for their amusement—to watch me become something I never wanted to be?"

Elowen, calm and quiet, stand beside her. She said nothing at first—just wrapped an arm around Liora's shoulders and gently stroked her back, like a mother calming a fevered child.

"Is it necessary for me to be cruel and heartless to gain the power?" Liora continued, her voice cracking. "Is that the price? Is that the only way?" Elowen didn't answer.

She knew better than to offer wisdom to someone who wasn't ready to hear it. She let Liora speak. Let her anger out. Let the sorrow leak through her words and turn to steam in the evening air.

When the sobs finally quieted, Elowen leaned close and whispered, "Calm down, girl. Be patient. Just breathe."

The silence stretched between them, held by the low rustle of grass and the slow exhale of the wind. Then, a gruff voice broke through the calm.

"We should move," General Batu said as he approached. His armor still bore the dents and scratches from the last hunting season skirmish. His broad shoulders cast a long shadow behind him as the sun lowered.

"It's too dangerous to linger. Goblin hordes might regroup. We're still in their territory." Elowen nodded. "Yes, General. But… could you tie Liora's horse to yours? She'll ride with me."

Batu's stern eyes softened for a moment as he glanced at the girl, then he gave a firm nod. "As you wish."

Elowen rose and helped Liora to her feet, her hands steady even as the girl leaned heavily against her. They walked together to Elowen's horse, a strong mare with a soot-colored coat and gentle eyes. Liora mounted first, clumsily, and Elowen followed, wrapping her arms around the girl's waist to keep her steady.

The ride back was slow. The horses moved with tired, rhythmic steps, but it wasn't the pace that made the journey drag—it was the weight in Liora's chest, the quiet ache in her bones. The field around them was painted gold and amber, but the colors felt muted, blurred by the heaviness in her heart.