Vale stepped cautiously into the compound, the air vibrating with something he could not yet name. Every footfall, every whisper of cloth against stone, seemed to carry weight here, as if even sound had substance. The Sound Clan was no ordinary family; their presence alone seemed to hum with quiet discipline, a rhythm he could feel pressing against his chest.
An elder observed him from a distance, eyes sharp yet unreadable. "You have come," the elder said, voice low and measured. Each syllable seemed to stretch in the air, leaving a faint resonance behind. Vale bowed slightly, unsure if it was respect—or necessity.
"This is your world now," another voice said, lighter, almost playful. A young practitioner passed by, leaving a trail of faint vibrations that tickled Vale's senses. He noticed immediately that even the ordinary conversations here carried subtle layers, as though meaning could be hidden between tones.
Vale followed the elder deeper into the courtyard, where rows of practitioners moved through exercises so silent they seemed unreal. Hands slicing the air, bodies shifting with the rhythm of some unseen music, and yet not a single shout or clatter disturbed the stillness.
"Do you feel it?" the elder asked, stopping beside him. "The air speaks. The sound speaks. Only when you learn to listen will you understand your place here."
Vale closed his eyes, focusing. Tiny currents stirred at his fingertips. Not wind—yet—but something akin to it, a vibration that responded to attention. It was faint, fragile, and almost maddening in its subtlety.
"The Sound Clan does not train like others," the elder continued. "We do not chase power openly. We cultivate the silence that power obeys. Strength is a consequence, not the goal."
Vale's chest tightened. He realized that everything he had thought he knew about cultivation—force, energy, flashy demonstrations—meant little here. The lessons would be slow, precise, and merciless in their patience.
The day ended not with applause, but with a single whisper of acknowledgment from the elder. Vale felt that the air around him had changed, heavy with expectation, and a quiet promise that nothing here would be easy.
As he lay on his thin mat that night, the vibrations of the Sound Clan lingered in his mind. He could not yet shape them, control them, or even fully understand them—but he knew, somehow, that this was the beginning.
The wind had not yet come. Only sound. Only restraint.