The Final Hero: Chapter 1

"The Hard Things"

SAI VARION TRIED TO CONTROL THE WIND FOR THE LAST TIME.

He lifted his chin, extended arms to either side, and felt the mountain wind rush over his skin. It danced around him, green eddies swirling and bubbling over everything in their path like a river conquering ground.

Yet Sai did not smile. He looked to the sky and took in its fullness.

Enormous tree limbs spread across the heavens, bark streaked with bolts of yellow gold light, bronze-colored leaves swaying in bunches on the wind. Its branches were like fingers splayed across the blue and orange canvas of the sky; its leaves, a canopy cast over the whole of the world. Such a canopy acted as a shield against the burning afternoon sunlight, softening it to little beams of warmth and light. To the far north was the trunk of the Axis Tree, source of branch and leaf.

Sai sat with his legs crossed in a pocket of Axis-filtered light breathing in the warm breeze. A sliver of cold ran through the air, telling of the end of the Season of Red and the beginning of White. But that would not be for some time.

For now, Sai tried to focus.

He looked over the golden fields of wheat that spread before the hill he was on and tried to change the direction of those little green eddies. They seemed playful to him, dancing without a care. Working with nature to carry life and warmth. He could see them, so why couldn’t he control them?

Sai focused on one again as it swirled around the stalks of wheat. All people were connected by breath. Chances were the air you breathed had circulated through the lungs of thousands of others. Chances were, Sai had breathed that little eddy before.

He closed his eyes and recalled how it might have felt to hold it in his lungs. Then he reached out—mentally and physically—to push it, like he might push out a breath. When Sai was sure he had the feeling right, he opened his eyes.

The little eddy still danced to an unheard melody. The veins on his arms were not glowing green with power, and he held them before him without issue. Sai grit his teeth. Pressure built in his nape, threatening a headache or something worse. He shook it off, flexed the muscles in his arm, and trained his eyes on that little dancing swirl of wind.

Just a little, he pleaded, Something…anything!

Sai tried to close everything else out and focus on the wind. Other sounds, scents, and tastes intruded, carried on the currents passing over the mountain. Children squealed just down the hill, circling their mother as she called out for them to slow. The aroma of salted vegetable broth fought with the heady scent of wood and machine oil.

Whether Sai desired it or not, the wind spoke to him. Others with power—with Veins—mentioned being carried bits of a conversation or the smell of blood on the wind. Sai just wished it would listen to him. He sighed and dropped his arm, staring out over the fields. His eyes fell on the close edge of the mesa, just past the wheat.

Rakuken was a sprawling city of stone columns, each round and up to a mile across, pulled from the mountainside centuries ago and cultivated with soil, grass, and trees to make them livable. The free-standing pillars were connected with bridges, and some were even close enough together to step between. Sai was on one of the pillars dedicated to agriculture; several steps beneath him was the trading district, and higher up were the houses. Sai lived just one layer up from here.

Windmills dotted the edge of nearly every plateau in Rakuken, their blades knifing quietly through the breeze. Together, the city encircled a mountain, from which came springs of hot water and steam that were carried across the city to heat everything from houses to smithies. On tilled columns like this one, jets of steam warmed the crops, keeping them from the frostbite common in higher altitudes.

Only a few of the green wisps remained in the field. Well, if there are any around to listen, they would have to hear him practice. At least then this exercise wouldn’t be a complete waste. Sai picked up the carved windpipes next to him. He brought one of the twelve barrels to his lips, hesitated a moment, then breathed out.

A light whistling note slid into the air. Too weak. Not consistent enough. But it was something. Sai kept on and blew out another one. Normally, a breath is a quiet thing, passing in a moment, known only by those whose lungs it escapes. But the pipes amplified that breath and allowed it to sing.

Two notes breathed from the pipes, then five more. They sailed harmoniously into the air, and Sai imagined that the notes danced with their green cousins in the field, giving them a new song to carry somewhere.

But no matter how long he played, Sai knew that this was the extent of his contribution to the wind’s song. He had tried enough—he would bother them no longer. The final few notes lifted into the air, and Sai watched the wisps swirl.

An urgent breeze rose from the south, riding up the side of the plateau. This wisp was not green, but a dark yellowish color. It scattered the happy green wisps like a wyrdin hunting bren. Sai watched the darker wisp, eyebrows drawn, and gathered his things. He stuffed the pipes and a short whittling knife into his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and stood.

Dark yellow wisps meant one thing: a storm was coming.

Sai crossed the bridge from the agriculture column to his own. The pedestal he lived on was a grassy field a quarter of a mile across that held only a few houses, which Sai had to admit he preferred. He approached the nearest house and climbed the trellis on its side to the roof.

Lightning, Sai heard, was tamer lower on the mountain; it did not fell trees or blow holes through wooden paneling. They had such worries here. Every house in Rakuken had a copper rod on its roof, like this one. The lightning rods were three feet tall and the last foot of it branched into three prongs that jutted like fingers toward the sky. Sai ran a finger up the little strip of dark wood that spiraled around the length of the rod from the base to the prongs, where it, too, split to coil around the antennae.

He needed to make sure the wood was flush with the copper, and when he was sure there no gaps, he removed a jar and brush from his bag and applied a thin blueish-white paste to the spikes and strip of wood. Then he verified the rod’s copper grounding and lowered himself from the roof.

Sai continued like this around the steppe, checking and adjusting the rods on his neighbor’s roofs. They protected them from storms, drawing air from the surrounding in a cone between the prongs to provide a safe path for the lightning to strike and be discharged. The strip of coiled wood drew the air—the copper was simply the grounding. But if the wood wasn’t flush with the rods, it wouldn’t work.

Sai finished his inspection and approached a large stone obelisk in the plateau’s park, which was being inspected by a man two years Sai’s elder, Lev. He had chestnut-colored hair, long limbs, and stubble which was almost getting long enough to be called a beard. In their younger years, Lev had been something of a mentor in Veins to him. Now their relationship was that of close friends. Lev inspected a copper rod, which he had taken from its housing at the top of the central obelisk. Sai took off his bag as he approached. “What’s wrong?”

Lev inhaled, and the veins in his left arm—the one not holding the rod—faded from glowing green to tan. “I can’t tell if I’m withering, or if this rod is rotting broken.” Lev repeatedly waved his hand around the outside of the rod, where air should be thinnest. “Because sometimes the wind goes right through it!”

“You’re not withering,” Sai assured him, and held out his hand. Lev handed the rod to him and Sai inspected it as he had the others. “I can apply a coat of cortan on this one, if that would settle you.” As was expected, the air around the cone was bitter cold.

Lev rolled down his sleeves and sighed. “I guess that’d do. We should replace it.”

“Cortan now, and we’ll replace it after the storm. It’s too close,” said Sai, removing the jar from his bag.

Lev’s eyebrows drew together, but he nodded. “Then, make sure you and everyone make it inside, alright? This storm will be a hard one; I can feel it.”

“I will.”

Dark clouds brewed overhead, blocking the leaves of the Tree and blotting out the setting sun. Lev frowned up at them then watched the entry bridge to their home. “Is Mirai back yet?”

Sai watched it with him. “Not yet. She’ll be alright, Lev. Theo’s with her.”

That received a frown from Lev. They laid out a plan for the morning after the storm, said their goodbyes, then Lev left. Once Sai was done applying a cortan to the rod, he set it back in its place and went home himself.

Hanako had her face pressed up against the forward-facing window of their sitting room when Sai returned. She bounced from her seat, ran up to Sai, and gave him a squeezing hug. “Where are Theo and Mirai?” She had big amethyst-colored eyes, and her bright red hair was pulled into a short ponytail. Hanako was still considerably shorter than Sai, but she showed signs of outgrowing all of them.

Sai rubbed his young sister’s head and walked into the entry room. “Hunting bren, last I heard. Are Mom and Dad here?”

Hanako nodded. “They’re asleep.”

Sai smiled. “That’s good. Mirai and Theo will be fine. They know to watch the sky. Theo will get them back in time.”

Sai approached the hallway leading to their bedrooms while Hanako stared out at the brewing storm. He hesitated. Hanako showed no signs of retiring to her room. Someone should stay up and watch for them. Just in case.

He returned to the couch in front of the window and sat.

Hanako was long asleep by the time the storm came. She rested her head in Sai’s lap, snoring away as the wind and rain beat against the house. She had curled up as she fell asleep, hands cradling her knees against her chest. Sai stroked her hunched shoulders and watched the darkened window.

Outside, lightning struck the copper rods. Largely, the plateau endured the fury of wind and hail. Yet Theo and Mirai weren’t home yet. He wanted to go out and look for them, but in this storm? He had to believe they had found somewhere safe and hunkered down. If so, that made sitting here pointless.

He exhaled and smiled at Hanako, then lifted her in his arms.

Lightning hit the earth outside. Not just a rod, but the ground itself. Sai felt the vibration in his feet. He set Hanako down and pressed his forehead against the window, searching the grounds, the road, and the buildings.

Two figures clambered through the rain not 300 feet away, one leaning on the other; Sai recognized them immediately. Oh…Architect. Oh no.

Hanako was still asleep. Sai still had his boots on from his trip outside, and… Through the window, he found the spot the lightning had struck. It was near the central rod on the obelisk, the one Lev had been sure was broken. It hadn’t struck the rod, the obelisk, or even a building.

It had struck a tree.

Sai threw open the door. The full brunt of the storm ripped at his clothes and skin, forcing him backward, but he pushed against it and pulled the door closed behind him. Hail smashed into stone, scattering shards of ice across the ground and pelting his face. Hundreds of yellow wisps shot by, chaotic and dangerous, ripping through everything in their path. The storm threw Sai off course into a fence, which nearly toppled over under him. He recovered, held a hand over his eyes, and fought against the screaming wind and debris.

Not again, came the panicked whisper in his mind, Dear Architect, not like this again.

Then Sai was running. The wisps circled around the tree, and lightning called to their dance and struck again. A sharp crack like a whip, then a fire set in the tree’s brittle branches. Sai was close enough now to hear his brother and sister’s shouts over the rain. The blackened top of the tree bent unnaturally, then with a loud snap from the trunk, the tree started to fall.

Mirai cried out, already limping; Theo barely turned around when the tree to careened over, then crashed on top of them. Sai yelled something—he didn’t even know what—and started tearing at the branches when he reached them, ripping out bunches of wet leaves with his fists. “Mirai!” he screamed.

Even though it was raining, fire consumed the broken trunk where it had been struck by lightning. “Theo!” Sai cried. He reached the pair after pulling one more bunch of leaves out of the way, finding them struggling beneath the fallen branches.

Theo yanked on Mirai’s jacket, trying to heave her to her feet. “Get up!” he yelled. “Leave it behind!” Blood ran in a small rivulet from his forehead.

Lightning hit a rod nearby and lit Mirai’s face. She was crying. The string of her bow had been snared by the tree when it fell, and the branch was too long to pull it off easily. Sai reached for Mirai to help her up but hesitated.

I…I was done. I wasn’t going to try anymore. Theo pulled at Mirai again, but she shook him off and fumbled desperately with the bow. “I can’t leave it!”

Sai dropped to his knees alongside Mirai and tried to break the branch out of the way. He couldn’t get a grip on it, and when he did it was too thick to break from here. Theo’s face was a mask of confusion and fury. “What are you doing?!” he roared. “You’re both going to die unless you leave that damned bow!”

Sai glared at him, then the fire, then the bow. It wasn’t free yet. They didn’t have any time. Furious, desperate, he turned his eyes toward the sky. Was that a yellow eddy dancing high above them? Sai let go of the bow with one hand and reached it toward that eddy, pleading, clawing at it with every scrap of his will. Listen to me! Draw the wind away!

Theo scoffed at Sai’s display and freed himself from the tree. He started running.

The storm wisp above them was carried away by the raging winds. Sai was left staring up at it, hand outstretched, and felt a shudder rise in his chest. He screamed and tried to pull the bow free with one hand in a quick downward motion. It snapped and he fell backward holding a bow without a string. Mirai stared at him, eyes wide.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he muttered. He scrambled to his feet, thrust the bow into her hands, and pulled her up. “We have to go!”

Theo was already halfway to the house when they freed themselves. But Sai felt electricity in the air and on his skin. He screamed, “Theo!” Lightning skewered the ground between them. Theo fell, stunned by the violent surge of energy. Sai pulled Mirai free and looked up at the dark sky in horror.

Please! He cried one more time. Please, stop this!

As though a hand waved it away, the storm cleared. The rain and wind parted like curtains as lightning arched around them. A column of safety led back to the house. Sai looked down at his arms, but they weren’t glowing. Then his eyes fell on the front door of their house, where his father stood with veins on both arms glowed from his fingertips to his shoulders.

Theo scrambled up and reached the house first, slipping around their father and back inside. Sai watched Kai’s eyes as they drew closer. He watched the sky, watched the storm, and drew in the column of sanctuary as his children reached home.

Sai and Mirai tumbled inside, sopping wet, breathing hard, and fell together onto the carpet. Theo was just ahead of them, dark orange hair matted with rainwater. “Why didn’t you listen to me?” he yelled.

Sai’s whole face crinkled. “Were you just going to leave her there? Her bow was stuck!”

Mom stood at the edge of the sitting room, holding Hanako’s shoulders and combing her fingers through their sister’s hair. Hanako looked terrified, eyes darting between her three older siblings, not sure who needed help most.

Mirai butt in, broken bow clutched in her hand. “You ran off when we got it free, Theo. You left us!”

Kai stepped inside. The three of them got quiet. Then Theo pushed himself up and spoke with all the bitterness in his chest, “You would have gotten us killed for a bow. You can’t rotting protect us, and you certainly can’t control the wind. You’re no Wargrave, Sai; you’re just embarrassing yourself.”

Kai put out a hand, palm open, and that stopped any further retorts. “Theo. Control yourself. No more bickering—not while emotions run hot. The three of you are safe; that’s what matters. Sit in quiet while I start a fire. If you wish to talk, talk in the morning.”

There was a moment of silent agreement, then Hanako broke free from their mother’s grasp and buried her face in Kai’s legs. Sai’s gaze dropped to Mirai’s bow and his heart sank.

No further words passed between them that night. Kai set a fire in the hearth, and they dried off in silence before retiring to bed. Some part of Sai’s mind intended to slowly digest the events of the day, but his body disagreed.

He abandoned the grips of consciousness as soon as he hit the bed.

That’s the first chapter of The Final Hero! I hope you enjoyed the snippet, and feel free to share your thoughts in the comments. If you're interested to continue, you can read chapter 2 here! Thanks for reading!