The town's market was alive with noise—vendors shouting, children running between stalls, the scent of fresh bread and herbs drifting in the air. Among the crowd walked a woman in a bright orange jacket, her eyes glowing faintly red, her steps quiet but deliberate.
Varisa.
Few knew her secret: the invisible current that danced at her fingertips, the whisper of the wind that answered her every thought. She had lived quietly for years, hiding her gift. But the keystone bound to her pulse refused to let her remain unseen forever.
That evening, the wind shifted. Varisa froze. The world around her hushed as though holding its breath.
Then—the Black Serpents descended.
From rooftops, from alleys, from the shadows between the lamplights, they came hissing, their blackened forms slithering forward with daggers in hand.
"Give us the keystone," one hissed, its voice like broken glass.
Varisa's eyes flared. Her hood fell back, red hair whipping wildly as the air coiled around her like an unseen storm.
"You shouldn't have come here."
The first Serpent lunged. In a blink, a cyclone burst from Varisa's palm, hurling the creature across the street, smashing it through a stone wall. The others swarmed, but the wind howled with her fury.
She lifted from the ground, feet no longer touching stone. With every sweep of her arm, blades of compressed air cut through the Serpents, slicing armor and bone alike. When they tried to circle her, she clapped her hands together—a shockwave of pure force sent them sprawling like leaves in a tempest.
The market was chaos now—stalls overturned, fruit and vegetables spiraling in the maelstrom. But Varisa did not relent. Her crimson gaze locked onto the last group of Serpents, their leader clutching a black blade etched with runes.
"Your power belongs to us," it snarled.
Varisa inhaled deeply, and the air itself seemed to vanish. For a single terrifying heartbeat, silence fell. Then she exhaled—
a roaring tornado erupted, swallowing the Serpent leader whole.
When the winds finally calmed, only shredded remnants of shadow remained, dissolving into nothing.
Varisa landed lightly, the air still swirling protectively around her. She closed her fist, and the winds settled back into silence.
The keystone pulsed against her chest, warm and steady. She had defended it—for now.
But she knew this was only the beginning.
The Black Serpents would come again. And next time, they might not come alone.