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After his noble family is slaughtered by the warlord Malrik, young Ryn Kael—heir to the Wind Astra legacy—is spared with a cruel challenge: "Grow stronger so I can crush you properly."

Now orphaned and alone, Ryn trains under Lira, a hardened warrior, and bonds with Ghostpaw, a wild Astra Beast. But as he learns to harness his power, he must decide: Will he become the storm that destroys Malrik, or the wind that rises above vengeance?

Astra's Vengance

Ryn's fingers hovered over the seventh stone, close enough to feel the static pulling at his skin. The air between his hand and the fragment crackled with pent-up energy, each spark etching tiny branching patterns across his fingernails.

Kaelan watched with those unsettling white eyes, his parchment skin creaking as he breathed. "Touch it, and your transformation accelerates. The storm will rewrite you from the inside out." His voice carried the weight of centuries. "Refuse, and your friends die screaming in voidfire."

The images in the wall pulsed—Lira ducking behind shattered masonry as a bolt of corrosive black energy vaporized stone where her head had been. The Brewer moved like liquid shadow between attackers, but Ryn could see the old man's movements slowing, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Until you're like me?" Kaelan's lips peeled back from quartz teeth. "Months. Maybe weeks if you draw too deep." He tapped his temple. "The mind goes first. You'll start forgetting things—little things at first. The color of your mother's eyes. The sound of laughter."

Another impact shook the monolith. Dust rained from the ceiling as something vast and angry stirred in the depths below.

The moment his fingers brushed the seventh stone, time fractured.

**[Stormcaller Ascension: Stage 1 Initiated]**

- Hair bleaching white at the roots

- Nails hardening to keratinous talons

- First Stormcaller's memories surfacing uncontrolled

- Time perception altered (0.7x normal speed)

The stones fused in a burst of actinic light, the resulting shockwave rippling outward through the monolith's walls. Ryn's back arched as power flooded his nervous system—not the gentle flow of before, but a torrent that scoured away weakness, doubt, fear.

When he opened his eyes, the world had changed.

He could *see* the Astra flows now—not just sense them. The chamber pulsed with energy patterns, the ancient bindings woven through the monolith glowing like brilliant tapestries of light. Kaelan stood before him as a constellation of pressure points and weaknesses, his body's vulnerabilities laid bare.

Ryn staggered as the awareness hit him—a presence so vast it defied comprehension, pressing up against the fragile barrier of the seals. The Devourer didn't think in words or images, but in pure concepts that seared across Ryn's mind:

Kaelan grabbed his arm, the older Stormcaller's grip like iron. "Focus! The stones give power, but control is on you." He pointed to the chamber's ceiling. "Your friends are dying. Go!"

Ryn didn't remember leaping. One moment he stood on the dais, the next he was hurtling upward through layers of earth and stone, the fused stones blazing at his chest. The world dissolved into streaks of color as he moved at speeds no human body should withstand—

—and erupted from the ground in the middle of a burning forest.

The battle froze as he landed in a crouch, the impact cratering the earth. Twenty royal soldiers in silvered armor turned as one, their void lances humming to life. The Brewer knelt nearby, one arm hanging useless at his side, his face a mask of blood. Lira stood over him, her remaining knife broken to a jagged stump.

Then Ryn *breathed*—and the storm answered.

Chapter 18: The Weight of Storms