Asha held the feather, its symbols pulsing like tiny heartbeats. Malkia's words echoed – _the whindi will show you where_. The air seemed to ripple, like the wind itself was leaning in.
"Omari, feel with me?" she asked, voice low.
Omari nodded, eyes serious. Nuru skipped ahead, like she knew the path.
The wind whispered secrets, leading them through forests, across rivers, and up mist-shrouded peaks. The landscape blurred – Asha felt like she was flying.
Hours passed, or maybe days. Time bent like the wind. They reached a plateau, where nine stones stood, each etched with symbols of the ancient wali.
"The Council of Winds," Omari breathed.
Asha approached the stones, whindi swirling around her. Suddenly, the winds spoke –
_"We hear you, Asha. The balance is fragile. Kivu seeks to tip it."_
A figure stepped from the shadows – an elder, skin like polished wood, hair like wisps of cloud.
"I am Zuri, of the East Wind. Speak, Asha."
Asha told them – the spring, Kivu, the Rift. The elders listened, their winds whispering secrets.
Zuri nodded. "The Rift feeds on fear. But you, Asha... you carry the wali's light."
The council elders spoke in turn –
_North Wind: "I bring the storms. But Kivu's darkness would consume them."_
_West Wind: "I carry the rains. Without balance, the land dies."_
_South Wind: "I bring the harvest. Kivu would burn it all."_
Asha felt the weight – the land's fate, in her hands.
Zuri turned to her. "The whindi have chosen you, Asha. Will you seal the Rift?"
Asha's heart pounded. "I'll try."
The council raised their hands, winds merging into a vortex. Asha felt power surge through her – the wali's legacy, the whindi's song.
Nuru grabbed her hand, eyes shining. "You'll do it, Asha."
The council vanished, leaving Asha with a map – _the Rift's heart: where shadows bleed into light_. Kivu's voice echoed in her mind – _I'll stop you_.