The cold winds howled through the frozen cliffs of Tarinoth, a land untouched by warmth. Ice stretched as far as the eye could see, jagged mountains piercing the sky like the fangs of some ancient beast.
Standing atop a ledge, wrapped in a flowing dark-blue coat, was a lone figure.
His name was Zephyr, and he had never once followed the rules of the world.
---
The Stormborn Visionary
Zephyr was not a man bound by tradition. He didn't walk the straight path laid before him, nor did he kneel to fate's demands.
He was a visionary, a man who saw the world as something fluid—always shifting, always changing.
And yet, despite all his beliefs, he had come here to face the Trial of Aquarius.
Not because he wanted power.
Not because he believed in destiny.
But because he wanted to prove fate wrong.
---
The Child of Rebellion
Born in the floating city of Aesthra, Zephyr was the son of two of the most influential figures in history.
His mother, Celestia Veyrin, was the High Oracle of the Celestial Archives, a woman whose visions shaped the fate of kings.
His father, Vaelin Veyrin, was a legendary explorer, the only man who had dared to sail into the Abyssal Waters—and return.
From the moment he was born, Zephyr was expected to be great.
And from the moment he could walk, he had done everything in his power to defy those expectations.
Where others studied magic, he studied the secrets of lost civilizations.
Where others meditated on fate, he questioned its very existence.
And when the Celestial Archives called for him to take his mother's place as a seer—
He ran.
---
The Death of Aesthra
When Zephyr was twelve, his father vanished on an expedition to the Abyss.
When he was fifteen, his mother's final prophecy sent the Celestial Archives into chaos.
"The stars are fading. The sea will rise in blood. And the Water Bearer will either drown the world or save it."
By morning, she was dead.
Aesthra fell that night.
Its floating islands shattered. Its people scattered.
And Zephyr, the last heir of the Tideborn, became a ghost.
For seven years, he wandered, refusing to be bound by fate's chains.
Until now.
Until the Trial of Aquarius.
---
Zephyr stepped forward, his boots crunching against the frost.
At the heart of the cliffs stood a monolithic pillar of ice, etched with ancient runes.
As he placed his hand on its surface, the ice shuddered.
The ground split open.
Water—black as the abyss—erupted from the earth, crashing down in a spiraling vortex.
And from its depths, a figure emerged.
It had no face, only a crown of jagged ice where its head should have been. Its body was water and void, swirling in endless motion.
The Herald of the Flood had come.
"You seek to master the tides," it whispered, its voice the echo of crashing waves.
"But water is not a force to be controlled. It is a force to be understood."
"Show me, Water Bearer—do you flow, or do you drown?"
The Trial had begun.
---
The Herald attacked without mercy.
Torrents of black water surged toward Zephyr, swallowing the air, the light, everything.
He reacted instantly.
A flick of his wrist, and the air around him condensed—moisture pulling together in perfect harmony.
With a single movement, he twisted his fingers—and the water obeyed.
The torrent split apart, redirected into the sky before crashing down like spears of ice.
The Herald laughed.
"You think yourself the master of water? Then face it in its true form."
The black abyss rippled.
And from within it—a tidal wave rose.
It wasn't just water. It was memory.
Zephyr saw the faces of the dead, voices of the past screaming his name.
His father, reaching out to him from beneath the sea.
His mother, whispering her prophecy one last time.
"You will drown the world... or save it."
Zephyr staggered. The wave crashed toward him.
And for the first time in years—he felt afraid.
"Do you flow? Or do you drown?"
The words echoed in his mind.
Zephyr closed his eyes.
Took a slow, steady breath.
Then—he stepped forward.
Into the wave.
The water rushed around him, a force meant to crush him under the weight of his past.
But Zephyr did not fight it.
He did not struggle.
He let go.
The water flowed through him, carrying his doubts, his fears, his pain.
And when he opened his eyes, the abyss had become the sky.
The storm had become his own.
---
The Birth of Aquarius
The Herald of the Flood knelt.
"You do not fight the tide."
"You become the tide."
The Trial was over.
Zephyr Veyrin was no longer just the son of a lost empire.
He was Aquarius, the Stormborn Visionary.
And fate?
Fate had just lost control of him.