Is just a long forgotten dream.
The last lyric fades into a hum, and I notice that Gus’s breathing has softened. His brow is still pinched with pain, but for the moment he sleeps.
I should do the same.
I tuck my legs underneath me and pull my hair tight against my shoulders. I’ve barely closed my eyes when pounding footsteps jolt me back to the present.
“On your feet!” a Stormer orders as he marches into the dungeon.
Everything about him is pristine—his gray uniform perfectly pressed, his weapon polished to a gleam—save for the pale scars marring his black skin along his neck and wrists.
He uses rough yellow winds to bind our hands before unlatching our cells.
Our path through the halls is straighter than my previous route, and I’m trying to figure out if that means there are multiple routes to the same place or if we’re going somewhere new when the Stormer shoves his way past us and snarls another word.
A door appears in the wall, and we stumble outside to the gray, frosty day—far colder than I’d expected given the time of year.
Scratchy, ruined drafts thicken the air, and I sense no trace of the brave winds that snuck into my tower cell and kept me company.
My thoughts blur as my bare feet sink into the knee-high snow. I wait for numbness to take over, but the ice is too sharp. By the time we’ve crossed the courtyard, my head is spinning faster than the enormous silver windmills lining the walls.
“Up there,” our escort says, shoving us toward a staircase barely wide enough to fit my narrow frame.
Gus is forced to turn sideways, pressing his wounded back against the stones and leaving a trail of speckled red across the icy wall.
The Stormer doesn’t follow, stationing himself at the base with a second Stormer and blocking any possible escape.
The air grows thinner as we climb, and by the time we reach the top, I can’t remember who the tall blond figure dressed all in white is. He eyes the boy I climbed with—I can’t recall his name either—then frowns at me.
“We’re going to need you to be a bit more lucid than this,” he says, waving his arm.
Something gray and heavy is draped over my shoulders, smothering me in a sticky kind of heat. It melts the fog in my head and thaws the ice in my veins.
My shoulders relax—until I realize I’m wearing the coat of a Stormer. I want to fling it away, but the warmth is the only thing providing clarity.
“Not used to the cold, I see,” Raiden shouts over the raging winds. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him. “And here I gathered the squalls just for you. Can you feel their energy?”
He grabs my wrist and presses my palm against the wall, which hums with a steady vibration.
“The power of the earth meeting the sky,” he breathes in my ear. “And it’s only the beginning. I’ve learned so many incredible things in my years living here. There’s so much I could teach you.”
I jerk my hand away.
“Clearly you have other lessons to learn first.” He points behind us, to where Gus—how could I forget about Gus?—has been dragged to the side of a tower and bound to the stones.
“What are you doing to him?” I ask.
Raiden smiles. “Patience, my dear.”
“I’m not your dear.”
“No. I suppose not.” He raises his fingers to his lips and blows a screechy whistle.
Metal scrapes across the courtyard, and I turn to find five Stormers dragging open a heavy door. Behind it is an enormous round grate, and just beyond the bars I catch a glimpse of fans spinning at top speed, filling the air with an unsettling howl.
“This might be my favorite creation,” Raiden says. “I call it the Shredder. It’s Brezengarde’s air purification system. No wind can pass near my fortress without learning to be submissive.”
Goose bumps prickle my arms as I realize the strange howl is the cry of innocent drafts being torn into Raiden’s ruined slaves.
“The true brilliance of the Shredder, though,” Raiden adds, “is that I can concentrate its force. For instance . . .”
He whistles again, and the Stormers crank a wheel next to the grate.
Metal panels curl inward, creating a beam of wind that blasts into Gus.
He stands silent and still, but his agony is carved across his face.
“Are you getting the idea of how this is going to work?” Raiden asks, steadying me as my body shakes with rage. “If I have them narrow it one click further, it gets rather dangerous for your friend—especially fueled by these violent Northerlies. So, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
My eyes stay focused on Gus. He’s watching me, mouthing the same three words again and again.
Trust the wind.
Still, I can’t help feeling like a coward as I tell Raiden, “I have nothing to say.”
“I was hoping you would say that. Now we get to have a little fun.” He smiles as he whistles the command.