Chapter 73: Pure Winds
Sylph appeared before him in a sudden gust, her form floating effortlessly, her silver-embroidered robes catching the light. "You’re doing it wrong," she said, her voice firm but warm, her eyes sparkling with playful mischief. The open-sky arena stretched around them, its vast blue expanse dotted with drifting clouds, the rune-etched pillars humming softly, their faint chime blending with the wind’s whistle. Darius hovered ten feet above the platform, his wind-form steady but strained, the air tugging at his robes as he processed her words. The other students paused, some hovering, others back on the stone platform, their eyes fixed on Sylph’s graceful glide, the arena’s boundless freedom amplifying the moment’s weight.
"You’ve got flight, Darius, but you’re forcing it," Sylph said, her tone encouraging, her hands weaving a soft breeze that swirled around her like a living cloak. "Wind’s not about muscle—it’s about flow, pure energy moving with the world’s breath." She demonstrated, her body lifting higher, gliding in a slow, effortless arc, her robes billowing as if dancing with the sky. Her movements were fluid, almost liquid, her short, wavy hair dancing in the breeze, the silver motifs on her robes shimmering like starlight against the endless blue. "Feel the wind’s rhythm, its pulse. Let it carry you, like a leaf on a stream," she urged, her voice a gentle current, resonating with the arena’s mana. She dipped and twirled, a blur of grace, the air shimmering with faint sparkles of mana, its ozone scent sharp in Darius’s nose, mingling with the distant tang of clouds. The students murmured, their awe palpable, the breeze carrying their whispers as Sylph landed lightly on the platform, her boots barely touching the stone, gesturing for him to descend. "Back to the platform. Try again—sense the flow, not just the power."
Darius exhaled, his hover faltering as he lowered himself, his boots touching the smooth stone with a soft thud. The arena’s winds swirled, cool against his skin, brushing his cheeks with a crisp, invigorating touch. The pillars’ runes pulsed brighter, their faint hum echoing the wind’s rhythm, as if urging him to try again. He closed his eyes, recalling Thalassa’s lesson on mana’s rhythm in the pond classroom, the way the water’s pulse had guided his spells. Now, he sought the air’s equivalent, its natural current flowing through the arena like a living thing. Sylph’s voice cut through his focus, soft but clear, her words a beacon. "Breathe with the wind, Darius. Find its beat—slow, steady, like a heartbeat. Let it lift you." He stood still, his hands open, palms up, sensing the arena’s mana, its pulse a gentle hum beneath the wind’s whistle. The air felt alive, swirling around him, tugging at his robes with a playful insistence.
He pushed off, lighter this time, his mana aligning with the air’s flow. His body rose, wobbling at first, his arms tensing as he fought to balance, the wind resisting his initial push. His heart raced, the sky stretching endlessly above, the clouds below a golden blur against the deep blue. He nearly dipped, the air pushing back, but he exhaled, relaxing his shoulders, letting the current guide him. The tension melted, and suddenly, it clicked—his body lifted smoothly, gliding upward, the air cradling him like a partner in a dance. The sensation was exhilarating, the wind’s rhythm a steady pulse, his robes fluttering as he hovered fifteen feet up, the arena’s vastness opening around him. The clouds shimmered below, their edges catching the sunlight, the pillars’ runes glowing in sync with his ascent, the air’s ozone scent sharper now, filling his lungs with a sense of boundless freedom.
Sylph clapped, her laugh ringing like a chime across the platform. "That’s it, Darius! Pure wind energy—you’ve got it in you." She floated beside him, her eyes gleaming with approval, her silver-embroidered robes catching the light as she hovered effortlessly. "I can sense it, that clarity in your mana. Keep listening, take to teaching, and you’ll pick this up fast." Her tone was warm, affirming, her playful mischief softened by genuine pride. The class cheered, their voices echoing across the stone platform, some clapping, others nodding, their awe mixing with encouragement. The sharp-eyed girl gave a thumbs-up, her air orb steady as she hovered nearby, while the tousled-haired boy called, "Nice one!" from his own wobbly ascent. Darius grinned, his heart soaring, the wind’s freedom a pulse in his veins, his confidence bolstered by Sylph’s praise and the arena’s boundless energy. The memory of Elara’s calm focus from the water class flickered, a quiet spark urging him to keep pushing, but the wind’s rhythm held him now, a new kind of mastery within reach.
The students, inspired by Darius’s success, resumed their attempts, their faces alight with curiosity and determination. The sharp-eyed girl hovered higher, her air orb steadier now, her laugh bright as she called, "What’s next, Professor?" Sylph, still floating, waved a hand dismissively, her grin wide, her robes shimmering as she spun lazily in the air. "No rush, no rush! You’re in an open sky—enjoy it, rest, go with the flow." Her voice was a playful gust, carrying over the wind’s whistle, her carefree demeanor easing the class’s tension. "Classes like this aren’t about racing. Feel the wind, let it teach you harmony." The students nodded, their shoulders relaxing, the arena’s breezes carrying their excitement. They spread out, practicing untethered flight, their movements a mix of wobbly lifts and growing ease. The tousled-haired boy soared in a wide arc, his dreamy expression brighter, his robes billowing as he caught a strong current. The braided girl wove tight currents, her lift precise, her face focused yet joyful as she glided higher. The short student, laughing, spun a vortex that sent them tumbling, only to catch themselves with a quick gust, prompting cheers. "Nice save!" someone shouted, sparking laughter, the group’s camaraderie a warm current in the cool, ozone-scented air.
The arena transformed into a playground, the students exploring its vastness, gliding through swirling currents, their spells painting the sky with faint shimmers of mana. The elf in the group looped gracefully, her movements fluid, her robes catching the light like a bird’s wings, her laughter soft but clear as she twirled through a cloud’s edge. A gnome, ever inventive, shaped a gust into a spiraling ramp, riding it upward with a cackle, his small frame darting like a sparrow, earning gasps and claps from below. Another student, his glasses glinting in the sunlight, crafted a broad wind shield, floating steadily, his focus intense but joyful, his shield shimmering as it caught the arena’s currents. Stories flowed between them—someone recounted dodging a fire spell in the tournament with a wind burst, their voice proud as they hovered near a pillar. Another shared dreams of soaring over mountains, free of gravity’s pull, their eyes distant as they glided higher. The banter was lively, teasing falls—"You’re flying like a drunk pigeon!"—and cheering successes—"Look at that height!"—the class bonding through shared joy, the wind’s freedom a shared pulse that knit them closer.
Darius, hovering near the platform’s edge, marveled at the scene, the arena’s ozone scent sharp in his nose, the clouds below a golden promise against the endless blue. The pillars’ runes pulsed in sync with the wind’s hum, their faint chime a backdrop to the students’ laughter. He drifted higher, his flight smoother now, the wind’s rhythm a steady guide, its flow a metaphor for the freedom Sylph described. The memory of Elara’s teasing smile from the water class lingered, her calm focus a quiet challenge, but the arena’s energy held him, its boundless sky a canvas for his ambitions. He watched the others, their diverse skills painting a vibrant picture—the elf’s grace, the gnome’s ingenuity, the glasses-wearing student’s precision—each finding their place in the wind’s dance, their shared exploration a testament to the class’s unity.
Sylph floated closer, her demeanor relaxed, her eyes curious as she hovered beside him. Her untethered grace was mesmerizing, her form weaving through currents with effortless joy, her silver motifs glinting like stars against her robes. The students’ laughter echoed, their figures dotting the sky, some drifting near the pillars, their runes pulsing brighter as if celebrating the class’s progress. "You’re getting it," Sylph said, her voice soft, almost conspiratorial, a smile tugging at her lips. "That flow—it’s natural for you, isn’t it?" She paused, tilting her head, her wavy hair dancing in the breeze, the air’s hum a quiet underscore to her words. Darius nodded, his flight steady, the wind’s rhythm a pulse he felt in his bones. Sylph’s gaze held his, her curiosity deepening, a spark of intrigue in her eyes. "So, tell me, Darius—how’d you learn that elemental body technique of yours? It’s not just any wind spell, is it?"
The question hung in the air, open-ended, her tone casual but laced with genuine interest. Darius’s heart skipped, his flight steady but his mind racing, the arena’s winds whispering around them, their hum a quiet challenge. The sky stretched endless, the students’ voices a distant melody, their figures weaving through the currents like notes in a song. Darius stood poised, startled yet eager, the weight of her question a spark of suspense in the boundless air, the promise of his answer a thread to be unraveled in the wind’s embrace.