*** Early the next day***
A fruitful and enticing breakfast woke up Shawn who prepared himself hurriedly to join his new mother for the hearty meal. " Morning Son, hope you had a great night. Here's breakfast. I do not know what you like so I prepared alot. Eat to your fill." Lynne said, ruffling Shawn's hair as he directed him to his seat. After eating breakfast and assisting his mother in washing the utensils, the mother and son decided to have a talk.
" I know that you might not like it here first, nor like me like a mother, but I will ensure that you will be comfortable with me. I really want you to accept me. I lost my husband and my child during a raid as they were going to the city. I was not there to save them and I feel guilty about it. How can I be a healer and not be able to save my own flesh and my husband. Since then, I have not be willing to move on, but seeing you and your condition during our voyage, made me want to save you. I felt a pull towards you and something in my heart convicted me to take you in. I might not be like your previous family, but I am at your beacon if you need me."
Shawn felt guilty for thinking that he could use this lady for his benefit. He stood up and and approached Lynne, and gave her a big hug. " I love you mum", he said, as tears threatened to break it's dam. Seeing the action and the honesty Shawn heard made Lynne break to tears and held Shawn as if he were going to leave him. " I love you too son." she said.
" I have to go to the city, as I have many people waiting for my services. The journey from here to Raze is just two hour travel, so we do not have to take the Transvergance halls. We will walk as I love to enjoy the nature. I want you to accompany me and get to know where I work." Lynne said.
The sun peeked through the dense canopy of trees as Lynne and Shawn made their way down the worn dirt path. A soft breeze caressed Shawn's face, ruffling his dark hair as he held onto Lynne's hand. Though he couldn't see, he could feel the world shifting around him— the uneven ground beneath his feet, the distant murmur of a flowing river, and the rhythmic rustling of leaves swaying to an unseen song.
"Are you sure you don't need a break?" Lynne asked, her voice gentle yet laced with concern.
Shawn shook his head. "I'm fine," he replied, though his body was still adjusting to its new reality. Blindness had stripped him of sight, but his other senses had sharpened in ways he had yet to understand.
The journey to the city was long, and Lynne had rented a small carriage pulled by a sturdy beast—one of the many creatures domesticated for travel. As they climbed in, the wooden frame creaked beneath them.
"Once we get to the city, I'll find someone who can help you adjust," Lynne said as she guided him onto the seat.
Shawn sighed. "I don't want to be treated like I'm helpless."
Lynne chuckled softly. "It's not about being helpless. It's about adapting."
The carriage began to move, rocking gently as the wheels rolled over uneven terrain. Shawn listened to the rhythmic clatter, the sounds of the world shifting around him. But something else stirred in the air.
A whisper.
It was faint, almost imperceptible, like the wind was calling his name.
Shawn stiffened. "Did you hear that?"
Lynne turned to him, her brows furrowing. "Hear what?"
The wind rustled through the trees, but to Shawn, it wasn't just the movement of air—it was something more. He couldn't explain it, but deep in his gut, he knew that something was about to happen.
Then, the sudden snap of a branch.
The beast pulling their carriage let out a distressed cry. The carriage lurched violently, throwing Lynne and Shawn forward. Before they could react, figures emerged from the shadows, surrounding them.
Bandits.
"Get out," one of them ordered, his voice like gravel.
Lynne gritted her teeth, stepping in front of Shawn protectively. "Stay behind me."
But before either of them could react, a heavy blow struck the back of Shawn's head. His world spun into darkness, deeper than the blindness he had already endured.
And then… he dreamt.
Or rather, he saw.
Not with his eyes, but with something else.
A vast sky stretched before him, endless and free. The air hummed with power, invisible yet omnipresent. And then, a voice—a whisper carried on the wind.
"You are of the sky…"
The wind howled, shifting, forming currents that swirled around him like unseen hands reaching out to embrace him.
"You are the storm."
Shawn gasped, his mind burning with something new. Something awakening.
Then, icy cold water splashed against his face, ripping him from the vision.
He woke up to harsh laughter and the rough grip of his captors. But something had changed.
Inside him, the wind was stirring.
Shawn gasped for air, his mind caught between the fading remnants of the vision and the harsh reality before him. His body ached, his head pounded, but something new stirred within him—an unfamiliar sensation, like a presence lurking beneath his skin.
His captors laughed.
"Looks like the little one finally woke up," one of the bandits sneered, his voice thick with amusement.
Shawn could hear at least five of them moving around—a shuffle of boots, the clank of weapons, and the faint creaking of rope as Lynne struggled nearby. She was bound.
"Let us go," Lynne demanded, her voice sharp despite the situation.
A deep chuckle followed. "Oh? And why would we do that, Healer?"
"Because you have no idea what you're dealing with," she said coldly.
One of the bandits stepped closer, gripping Shawn's chin roughly. His breath smelled of rot and cheap alcohol. "What's so special about you, brat?"
And that was when it happened.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the camp, not natural, but deliberate—as if the air itself had awakened to his anger.
Shawn felt it.
Felt the currents moving, bending, waiting.
His hands clenched.
"Move."
The whisper from his vision returned, but this time, it wasn't just a voice—it was a command from within.
The wind obeyed.
A burst of air exploded outward, sending dust and debris flying. The bandit gripping Shawn staggered back with a curse, shielding his face. The others reacted too late. The wind howled, twisting unnaturally, cutting through the air like invisible blades.
Then, the first strike.
A thin crescent of air sliced through the darkness.
One of the bandits screamed as a deep gash appeared across his arm. Blood splattered onto the ground as he collapsed, writhing in pain.
"W-What the hell was that?!" one of them stammered.
Another lunged at Shawn.
The wind surged forward.
The attacker was lifted off his feet, thrown back with a force that slammed him against a tree. The sickening crack of breaking ribs echoed through the clearing.
Shawn's breathing was ragged, his heart hammering against his chest. His body burned with exhaustion, but he wasn't controlling the wind—it was responding to him.
"You little—!" A third bandit charged, raising his weapon.
Shawn instinctively raised his hand.
A gale roared to life, forming a spinning vortex in his palm.
Then, it shot forward like a lance of compressed air.
The bandit barely had time to scream before the blast of wind struck him square in the chest, sending him flying through the air. He landed with a heavy thud, unmoving.
The remaining bandits staggered back in fear.
"What… What is he?!"
The wind hissed, circling Shawn like a living entity, lifting his hair, stirring the dust around him. His clothes rippled as though he stood at the heart of a storm.
But the strain was too much.
His body trembled.
His vision blurred.
And then—he collapsed.
The next thing he felt was warmth.
Soft hands cradled him. A voice—gentle, filled with worry—whispered his name.
"Shawn… Shawn, wake up."
He stirred, barely able to move. His entire body ached. The power had left him drained, but somewhere deep inside, he could still feel the wind lingering—waiting.
When he opened his eyes, he couldn't see, but he felt Lynne's presence beside him. Her arms wrapped tightly around him.
"You saved us," she whispered, her voice trembling. He could hear her crying, but whether it was from relief or fear, he couldn't tell.
Shawn's lips parted, but no words came.
He had felt powerful—but also helpless. The energy had come too easily, too wildly. He had no control, and it had nearly consumed him.
Lynne pressed her forehead against his.
"You are more than you realize," she murmured, her healing energy flowing into him.
As warmth spread through his aching limbs, Shawn thought back to the vision.
"You are of the sky… You are the storm."
He didn't understand it yet.
But one thing was clear—this was only the beginning.
Shawn's eyes fluttered open as he felt Lynne's warmth beside him. She was still holding him, her hands glowing faintly as she healed his wounds. The pain eased, but exhaustion still weighed down his limbs.
A distant sound reached his ears—the clatter of hooves, the stomp of heavy boots against the dirt.
Lynne noticed it too. She turned her head sharply, her grip tightening on Shawn. Moments later, armored figures emerged through the trees, torches illuminating the darkened grove. Their insignias gleamed under the flickering light—the City Guards of Raze.
"Over here! We've found them!" one of the guards called.
More soldiers poured into the clearing, weapons drawn, surveying the unconscious and wounded bandits. The aftermath of Shawn's storm.
One of the officers, a man with a silver crest on his armor, approached cautiously. His gaze flickered to Lynne before settling on Shawn—his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
"Are you harmed?" he asked.
Lynne hesitated, then nodded. "We're fine now. But these men attacked us—tried to take us captive."
The officer's expression darkened. He gestured to his men. "Restrain the survivors. We'll interrogate them later."
As the guards moved to shackle the groaning bandits, one of them hesitated, nudging the body of a fallen attacker. His armor was shredded, deep gashes running along his limbs—all inflicted by the wind.
The guards exchanged uneasy glances.
No swords. No arrows. Only air itself had done this.
Shawn, still too weak to move, felt their stares pressing into him. Lynne sensed it too, shielding him slightly with her presence. "He's just a boy," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.
The officer hesitated, then exhaled. "We'll escort you to Raze. You'll be safe there."
Lynne nodded, lifting Shawn into her arms as they moved toward the waiting horses.
Unbeknownst to them, a lone figure stood atop a distant rock formation, watching.
He had been there from the beginning—silent, unseen.
His cloak billowed slightly in the wind, though he himself made no movement. His face remained shrouded beneath his hood, but his golden eyes gleamed with interest.
The wind had whispered to Shawn.
And he had heard it.
The figure's lips curled into a faint smile.
"So it begins."
Then, as quickly as he had appeared, he vanished into the night.