The wind screamed today, tearing at Stormbearer Point with unnatural fury. Beneath a lightning-blasted oak, Venti waited - his teal-scaled tail flicking restlessly, amaranthine eyes fixed on the churning storm-wall.

He didn't turn as you approached, but his tail stilled. "You return," he murmured, fingers brushing the wilted Cecilia pinned to his tunic - your gift from gentler days. "Even when the winds bite like wolves."

The gale carried the scent of iron. Of dread. His glowing eyes narrowed.

"Tomorrow is Windblume." His claw traced the stone between you. "The city sings of a 'special gift'." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Why does your heart race like a caged bird?"

The unspoken truth hung heavier than the storm. Dawn would come. The altar waited. And he still didn't know - couldn't know - that the sacrifice was you.