Laya steeled her jaw, firming her stance on the pier. At her summons, dark, gray storm clouds barreled in from across the Untulu Sea. She whisked the wind to a violent speed, relishing the way it whipped her hair back and rushed past her fingers. Its energy coursed through her veins, at once exhilarating and familiar. She closed her eyes, wishing for the wind to lift her along with it. Laya had tasted power like that once, years earlier. Power so strong, it shot her skyward and gave her wings. How long before she would taste that kind of power again?

“Laya, be careful!” Bulan’s fearful scream pierced through the roaring in her ears. Bulan had seen what Laya became when she got swept up in the throes of Mulayri’s power. She, too, remembered.

Her sister’s voice brought her back to the earth. Laya blinked, the wind stinging her eyes. She trained her gaze once more on the ship. Another breath, and she shifted the angle of her wrist. One mighty gale would do the trick. With a grunt, Laya hurled it straight at the sails.

At the mouth of the harbor, the ship lurched. The bottom of its hull scraped against the rocks with a metallic groan. Powerful waves rippled out from the ship, threatening to overturn the surrounding rowboats. Agitated shouts echoed from the water below as the men scrambled to steer themselves out of harm’s way.

“Yes! Hold out a bit longer, Laya. It’s starting to move,” Bulan cried.

For once, Laya was happy to obey. She tautened her hold, her arms shaking as she tugged harder on the threads. When she opened her fists, the air burst from her palms in relentless gusts. The sails ballooned as they filled, propelling the ship forward.

She had never sustained a hold on the wind for longer than a few seconds before. The power tore at her aching muscles. The threads pulled through her fingers, fighting their way free. Laya willed herself not to panic. She sagged against the railing, battling the urge to collapse. The clouds continued to buck against her hold, like horses jerking at their bridles, when one of the rocks beneath the hull gave at last. A final jet of air, and the bow of the ship slid back into the water with a resounding splash.

Laya’s arms dropped to her sides, limp as noodles. She crumpled as the threads of energy ripped free from her grip. Across the harbor, sailors broke out into triumphant cheers. Laya did not pay them any heed. Her storm clouds dispersed as quickly as they had appeared. The sun emerged, higher above the horizon than when Laya and Bulan had arrived, beating down on the wharf once more. She wrapped her arms around her knees, teeth chattering despite the renewed heat. Power liked to make its absence known; deprived of its embrace, Laya felt cold.