Wind in Her Hair

After working so hard to afford it, she had finally made it.

Nira was sitting with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

In her lap, a porcelain piggy bank.

Eight years had passed since she had found a purpose in her life.

She had been only 7 years old.

That day the sky was clear, and only a faint violet light filtered through the dark clouds breaking upon the barrier.

It wasn’t raining, it never rained during magic storms, but the rumble of thunder and the howling wind were enough to make people lock themselves inside their homes.

The streets were deserted, except for the few who hurried home after work.

They seemed to want to make everything disappear, the girl had thought as she watched the mist crash against the dome that protected the city.

By now it was a recurring sight in the Dungeon.

Every day the mist arrived and swept over the city, but even though she had seen it a thousand times, the feeling of fear never went away.

Suddenly, something caught her attention:

a small creature fluttered, frightened, among the storm’s currents, unable to control where it went.

Nira pressed her nose against the glass so hard it hurt, but she couldn’t take her eyes off that flickering light in the storm.

It seemed to be looking for her.

Then, a thunderclap.

The little creature was struck and plummeted to the ground, inside the barrier.

Nira rushed outside.

A sudden impulse had gripped her soul.

Without thinking, she threw on her cloak and ran out: she had to help it, no matter how.

There it lay, a small Onymagi, still trembling and breathing weakly.

The girl approached very slowly and tried to touch the creature with one finger.

The Onymagi opened its eyes, and with two pools of light it fixed its gaze on her.

“Saamraaa…” it moaned before closing its eyes again and turning into the small tag she now wore around her neck.

The girl knelt down and, with trembling hands, picked it up.

The tag still emitted a faint turquoise glow.

“You’ll come back, right?” she whispered, clutching it to her chest.

10,549, 10,550. Yes, they’re all here!

With a leap, Nira jumped off the bed and, money in hand, rushed out of the house.

She ran down the narrow alley where she lived and sped, swift as the wind, toward the old second-hand shop.

“Ah, good morning!”

The shopkeeper greeted her.

“Here again to admire that pile of scrap metal?”

“No, today I’m here to buy it!”

Nira exclaimed, waving the coins in her hand.

“As promised: 10,550 Taahli for that Manacore!”

It was an old piece of equipment for linking with Onymagi, thrown away by an Adventurer because it was outdated.

“Ha ha ha, all right then, here you go. Be careful not to hurt yourself.”

The girl’s eyes sparkled as her fingers brushed the crystal and the cables attached to it.

At their end was a socket.

“Finally!” she thought.

With trembling fingers, just like that day many years before, she grabbed the tag she wore around her neck, inserted it inside, and boom!

A turquoise light surrounded her, and then a gust of wind tousled her hair like a hand caressing it.

When the light faded, a voice greeted her.

“Samra? Saaamraa!”

“Oh Samra, I’ve been waiting for you!”

Said the girl.

With an embrace, Nira and the Onymagi were reunited.