The Palace of Winds


Winds of Destruction

Ancient pacts have been broken and powers greater than anything is about to be released and threatens to swallow the world. Life wants vengeance, and the Wind freedom. The Spirits will fight for their justice and only the thunderous Storm can lead them to victory.

But the war her ancestors have started is too much for her to handle alone. To break the Lord of Life's dynasty and set the Spirits free she needs help from her uncle; a long-lost war hero now wasting the remnants of his broken life in ale.

Once he was the Lord of Winds, but the Wind, people whisper, cannot be killed.



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“Where are you going?” Mareau was unable to contain his curiosity anymore. Storm looked up with a narrow-eyed stare. It sent a trickle of warm remembrance through him. Just like Deri when I snooped around in her things. Except those eyes. The golden gaze of an Ancient. But that’s impossible!

Even if she had more or less admitted that the Lord of Life was her father, Mareau refused to believe that. The consequences of that were too severe.

“The Metal Mines,” Storm finally said and broke into a grin when Mareau’s eyebrows rose high up on his forehead. The Metal Mines! That place was a fortress; heavily guarded for the valuable dull grey material and it was even rumored that the depths of the mine hid a large Life Stone.

“What by Earth do you hope to achieve there?” Mareau asked. Even if one could break through the guards, and one would have to assume there would be many, the mine only had one entrance. It would require tremendous amounts of supplies and men to hold it. He knew. He and Deri had talked about it many times. It had been a foe they couldn’t conquer.

“I’m going to tear it apart,” Storm said lightly, and her grin widened when Mareau gawked.

“You’ll never be able to hold it! Even with a decent-sized force,” Mareau said, but Storm laughed.

“Who said anything about holding it? I’ll tear that whole mountain down and crush the mine for good.” She tilted her head and watched him “Do you want to help?” Her wide smile was still on her lips. Mareau stared at her. He might be dead, but he was not suicidal.

“And why would I want to do that?” he asked, and Storm applied a shrug. A very nonchalant gesture as if they were discussing snow in winter.

“Redemption? Curiosity?” she suggested. “Do you have anything better to do?” Mareau considered her. Fair point.