Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(8)

Time and patience, the Gale Force told me.

I don’t have the luxury of either anymore.

A date roach skitters across my bare foot and I bite back a scream. I’ve trained to face all manner of foe, but nothing is as horrible as the fist-sized, brown vermin that swarm the grounds of this awful place. They’re almost impossible to kill—I’ve had many scurry away after I smacked them with my blade. And they can fly. It isn’t fair that something so useless and ugly has greater skills than Vane.

The thought would be amusing if it weren’t so terrifying. Vane can be crushed far too easily, and I know better than anyone what we’ll face when the Stormers arrive.

A wave of pain rocks me as the memories I try so hard to ignore batter my mental barriers.

Vane’s parents. My parents. The unfathomable force of the cyclone tossing them around like dry leaves in a storm. The vindictive smirk on the Stormer’s lips.

I close my eyes, just like I did that day—but I can’t close out the roar of the winds tearing at me, or the echoes of the Westons’ screams. Or the sound of my father’s voice, before he surrendered himself to save us, ordering me to take care of Vane.

Sounds that will haunt me until I draw my last breath, and probably beyond.

Four of them fought one Stormer, and only my mother survived.

Raiden always sends his Stormers in pairs now. What chance do Vane and I have?

My legs itch to run—to grab Vane and flee this suffocating place. Keep him hidden. Protected.

I fight the urge.

The Stormers will destroy the entire valley in their search to find us. As a guardian, I can’t allow that to happen. Plus, they’d follow our trace. Overtake us eventually.

Forcing Vane’s first breakthrough is the best option.

Our only option.

Besides, I’m strong, and prepared. I haven’t tied myself to the earth with a bite of food or a drop of liquid since the day my father died ten years ago. None of the other Gales have kept the sacrifice so long. But I learned from my father’s mistake. It’s about to serve me well.

I have time to teach Vane to fight. Maybe even trigger his other breakthroughs. And if he can live up to even a fraction of his potential, we’ll be more than enough to take them on. Assuming I succeed tonight . . .

I’ve joined the wind only once before during my training—and I could only bear the pain a few seconds. It will take Vane’s mind a few minutes to have the breakthrough.

I’ll hold on as long as it takes. This is my only chance.

I rise to open his window. It’s time.

Usually I slip a breeze through the crack at the bottom to let the wind’s songs stir his senses while I listen outside. Tonight I’ll make direct contact with his mind. If that doesn’t awaken him, nothing will. I reach for the Northerly I can feel prickling my fingers and send it under the sill, thrusting the gust against the lock until it clicks. An extra swell of wind pushes the window silently open.

Vane lies stretched out on his bed—asleep, but not peaceful. He’s tangled in the sheets and strangling his pillow.

I almost feel sorry for him. He has no idea what he’s in for.

Of course, neither do I.

Deep breath.

I’m stalling—and I don’t have time for weakness.

I close my eyes.

Joining the wind requires absolute concentration. Even then, it will be easy to lose myself.

The Northerlies I sent from the mountains fill the air, but for this I need Easterlies. The winds of my heritage. Like the blood in my veins, their drafts flow through me. And if I surrender myself to them, they’ll release me from my earthly form.

I murmur the call I’ve memorized, commanding every eastern wind to find me. Fortunately, there are some nearby, so the movement won’t be detected.

I step into the open, blinking as the drafts whip my hair against my face. Usually I keep it bound in the Gale’s regulation braid, but the intricate twists and folds can’t be replicated in the transformation. Shifting requires letting go.

I stretch out my arms and let the cool air streak across my bare skin. The Gale Force designed my dark sleeveless dress specifically for this task, cutting it short and low to leave most of me uncovered. The smooth, sleek fabric is woven from tiny fibers that cling to each other in a mesh but can quickly break apart. Like dandelion fluff when the wind sets it free. It will dissolve and re-form as needed.

If only my body could make the switch so easily.

I wonder what the Gales would say if they could see me now. What my mother would say.

Would she be worried?

Would she care at all?

No. She would see this as fitting punishment for the crime I can never redeem.

Maybe it is.

I fight off a shiver caused only partially by letting the chilly drafts seep through my skin. They sink into the deepest recesses of my body, swirling and thrashing for freedom.

I have to let them out.

I can’t explain the moment of surrender. It happens on an instinctive level, deep within my core. I just have to trust my gut. And withstand the pain.

With a final breath, I silence my resistance and let the winds rip me apart.

Icy needles and shredding teeth tear through me, breaking my body down cell by cell. It takes only a second to transform, but every fiber of my being will forever remember the agony.

Mixed with the pain is an unimaginable freedom.