Zal was sleeping soundly, face buried under the blanket, when something slammed into his stomach.
"GAHH—!" He jolted upright, clutching his belly. "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!"
Lumini stood beside his bed, fists on her hips and fire in her eyes. "For sleeping like a rock while we're about to get raided!"
"Raided—what?" Zal blinked, hair a complete mess.
She pointed at him like she was scolding a little kid. "The High Wind Government! That commander guy said they're coming here tonight! You think they're just gonna knock and say hi?!"
Zal rubbed his face, still half-asleep. "Wait, what time is it—"
"Time to pack!" she shouted, throwing his bag at him.
He yelped as it hit his chest. "Ow—Lumini, calm down!"
"Calm down?! Do you want to get dragged into a prison ship again?!"
Zal opened his mouth to argue, but stopped when he noticed Lumika sitting on the floor, calmly polishing her golden-orange mask with a rag.
"Uh… why's she just cleaning over there?" he asked.
Lumika didn't even look up. "Because unlike you two, I prefer my morning to start with silence."
Lumini turned sharply. "SILENCE?! The government is coming, and you're cleaning your face toy?!"
"It's called maintaining dignity, Master Lumika always keeps her mask spotless," Lumika said with a smug little grin.
Zal groaned. "Can we not start this again—"
"Quiet! Both of you!" Lumini shouted, waving her hands like she was losing her mind. "Pack the food! Pack the water! Pack everything! We're leaving before sunset!"
Zal sighed and began stuffing random things into a bag while Lumika just leaned back and sighed. "You know," Lumika muttered under her breath, "last night she looked so calm when she was spoonfeeding that commander."
Zal raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Oh yes. I was like hiding behind a pole, watching it. I thought she was a saint."
Then, Lumini spun around with wild eyes, clutching a frying pan like a weapon. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD IT IS TO STAY CALM WHEN THE ENTIRE GOVERNMENT IS ABOUT TO CHASE US?!"
The room froze. Zal and Lumika just stared at her.
Lumika whispered, "I take it back. She's insane."
Zal nodded seriously. "She's definitely panicking inside."
"I HEARD THAT!" Lumini shouted.
Zal jumped, clutching his bag. "Okay, okay! We're packing!"
Lumini groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Dreamers… I'm surrounded by dreamers and lunatics."
---
They looked like a traveling circus that had lost its sense of direction. Bags upon bags, piled and stacked, hung over Zal's shoulders.
And somehow, Lumika was now buried under three full sacks of supplies, grumbling curses under her breath.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered, barely visible under the weight. "I'm not a mule. I'm a master."
"Yeah, a master of complaining," Zal said, tightening the strap across his chest.
Lumika glared at him from behind the tower of bags. "Watch it, apprentice. These bags might just slip onto your head."
Zal sighed. I think I preferred being trapped in the prison ship.
Lumini marched ahead like a commander leading a retreat, her expression an odd mix of panic and focus.
As they passed by the sleeping commander Johan, she suddenly stopped, her eye twitching.
"Still sleeping, huh? Must be nice," she muttered darkly.
Before anyone could react, she snapped the rope that bound him with a single motion. Zal froze mid-step.
Oh no. She's going feral.
Lumika blinked. "Wait, what are you doing—"
"I'm getting him up!" Lumini said, her voice rising.
Johan stirred groggily, looking around in confusion. "What's—what's going on here?"
"Oh good, you're awake!" Lumini said sweetly, and immediately threw three heavy bags straight into his arms.
He stumbled back, nearly dropping them all.
"Carry those," she ordered, her tone suddenly sharp.
Johan gawked at her. "Excuse me? I am the son of—"
"Don't care!" she snapped. "You move, you carry, you breathe when I tell you to breathe! Try escaping, and I swear I'll make you regret it."
To make her point perfectly clear, she grabbed a rope and tied his wrist tightly to her own. Johan stared at the rope, his face full of disbelief.
"You're tying me?!"
"Yes," she said without hesitation. "That way, I can drag you if you slow down."
Lumika's eye twitched. "Are we sure she's the sane one in this group?"
Zal just stared, completely dead inside. I think I found out where I got my energy from.
Johan sighed deeply, adjusting the bags on his shoulder. "You people are insane."
"Glad you noticed," Lumini said, flashing a strained smile that screamed I haven't slept in twelve hours.
Then, she turned serious, looking at everyone one by one. "We're heading to the main village of Airvale Island. There's someone there who can help us."
Zal blinked. "Someone?"
She nodded, gripping the rope attached to Johan as if he might explode any second. "An old friend of our parents. If anyone knows how to survive being hunted by the High Wind Government, it's him."
The village was a graveyard of half-standing homes.
Walls leaned against each other for support, roofs were missing tiles, and the wind howled through cracks as if the island itself was sighing.
Every step they took sent dust and scraps of wood fluttering across the ground.
"This place looks worse than before," Zal muttered, tightening his scarf. "Did it always look like this?"
Lumini's expression softened. "The Vicious Wind gets stronger every season. Even if you fix a wall, it'll break again by next week."
The air here was heavy and cold, swirling in strange, erratic gusts that carried a biting sting. It was the Bottom Sky's curse.
The Vicious Wind didn't just tear at wood or metal, it wore down the spirit of everyone who lived beneath it.
The villagers they passed looked thin and worn, their clothes patched too many times to count.
Most had dark hair, sunken eyes, and skin marked by the constant struggle against the air. Yet when they looked at Zal and his group, they smiled faintly and nodded.
"They still greet people like that?" Lumika whispered, surprised.
"They always do," Zal said quietly. "Even if they don't have anything left, they're still kind."
They kept walking until the sound of metal clanging reached their ears. It came from the far end of the broken path, where a house stood stubbornly against the storm.
Zal's eyes widened. "Wait. I know this place."
They approached the workshop, pushing past the hanging sheets of rusted metal that served as doors.
Inside, the smell of burnt coal and grease filled the air. A large figure stood behind an anvil, hammering at a blade that sparked with dull orange light.
His arms were thick as steel bars, his hair gray with soot, and his movements were slow but steady.
Zal's heart pounded. "That's him… Randal."
The man didn't turn as they entered. He kept hammering, sparks flying with every hit.
"Hey, old man," Zal said, his voice echoing slightly in the forge. "It's me. Zal. Zagorzaly Tempa."
The hammer froze midair. Randal finally looked up, his eyes deep and tired but sharp as ever.
For a second, recognition flickered there, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
He turned back to his anvil and continued hammering. "If you're here for help, forget it."
Zal blinked. "What? But—"
"I'm not interested," Randal said, voice rough as gravel. "I'll rather work for myself than for anyone else's dream."
The sound of the hammer echoed in the small room.
Zal lowered his head slightly, a mix of hurt and understanding washing over him. So even he's given up…
Lumini stepped forward. "We're not here to make you work for us, Randal! We need help!"
"Not interested."
"You don't understand, this isn't about gold or orders! It's about survival!"
Still hammering, Randal grunted. "Then survive without me."
Her temper flared. "Zagorzaly did something!" she shouted.
The hammer stopped mid-swing. The air in the forge seemed to still. Slowly, Randal turned his head toward her, eyes narrowing.
"What did the boy do?"
Zal rubbed the back of his neck. "It's kind of… a long story."
Randal stared for a moment longer, then dropped the hammer onto the anvil with a heavy clang.
"Then talk."
---
The forge's fire had died down to soft embers by the time Zal finished telling him everything. The only sounds left were the faint hiss of cooling metal and the whisper of the Vicious Wind through the cracks in the walls.
For a long moment, Randal said nothing. His eyes were on the floor, but it was clear he wasn't really seeing it.
Then, he finally breathed out and leaned against the anvil, his massive shoulders dropping.
"So the mask chose you," he said quietly. "And you survived its trial."
Zal nodded. "I think so."
Randal let out a low chuckle, the kind that sounded like it had been trapped in his chest for years. "Your father would've been proud."
"Your father… was a fool who never stopped looking up. Just like you."
He looked at the green mask in Zal's hands, then turned toward the back door of the forge. "If we're going to do this, there's something you need to see first."
Zal tilted his head. "Where?"
"The grave of my wife."