( 2 years prior)
The bells of the church rang throughout Tidehaven, marking noon.
Rowan's sea blue eyes stayed sealed shut in prayer, his short blond hair hanging over the front of his forehead and his hands clasped tightly together as he sat in the pews of the large cathedral. His breathing slowed as he finished his prayer, opening his eyes and releasing his hands.
He looked up as he sank into his seat, staring at the beautiful murals covering the ceiling, images of the Six in all their glory, glowing brightly as they fought back the dragons.
Of course, the storm god Vayleth's face had been scratched off, probably by vandals. Doubtful that the monks would ever commit such sacrilege, despite what was happening in the world.
Rowan sighed, lingering for a moment before lowering his head and glancing left as he prepared to leave.
"Holy shit!"
Rowan jumped backward, staring at the boy who sat beside him, currently boring into Rowan's soul with a bright smile. How long has he been there!? And why was he watching me!?
The two boys stared for a moment, Rowan's eyes awkward and confused, the other boy's bright and seemingly clueless. The stranger had short brown hair to match his wide brown eyes and wore a fancy red surcoat over a white tunic that complemented his tan skin.
Finally, he spoke.
"Hey, I'm Jared!" The boy let his unsettling smile dim slightly as he tilted his head. "What are you praying for?"
He wants to know what I'm praying for? Why? He's kind of creeping me out.
"Uh… hi. I'm Rowan. And I guess—" Rowan scratched his chin. "I'm not quite sure what I was praying for. Guidance, I suppose?"
Jared looked up and to the side, thinking. "Then I'd pray to Ilyra if I were you. You know, knowledge god and all."
Rowan sighed, a smirk adorning his face. "Yeah, I guess so. What about you? What were you praying for? Or did you just come here to watch me like a creep?"
He offered a wry grin.
Jared chuckled. "No, no, I came to pray."
"Let me guess, for the storm to disappear and humanity to be saved or something?" Rowan rolled his eyes. All anybody seems to pray for nowadays.
"No, nothing like that. If the gods could make the storms vanish, they would've already. No, I came to pray that one day I'd have the strength to end them myself."
Silence extended between them before the shock on Rowan's face turned into gentle laughter.
"You're a weirdo, all right. So you're Stormborn then?"
Jared nodded. "Sure am! And one day I'll be the strongest stormborn in the world!" He held up his right arm, making a show of flexing it and grabbing his bicep with the other hand.
"Well then, what gods do you suppose will help you with that?"
Jared looked up and hummed for a minute as he thought. "Uh… I guess the war god?"
"Thaldric, huh? Guess that fits." Rowan cleared his throat as he stood. "All right, well, I've got places to be, Jared." He reached out his hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you."
Jared stood and shook his hand back. "I know," he said simply.
Rowan blinked blankly for a moment in confusion, but before he could say anything, Jared turned and left.
Did he just say 'I know'? Who the hell says that?
***
Rowan walked through the streets of Tidehaven, the sun beating down on the wet cobblestones beneath his feet.
The streets bustled at this time of day. Loud shoppers went about their business while vendors populated the sides of the thin streets, crammed between stone buildings no more than two stories tall.
Rowan heard yelling and looked right to see what appeared to be a mugging happening in an alley. He sighed and shook his head before looking up above the buildings where the Queen of Stanor's castle loomed over him.
"I hate cities," he muttered.
He continued along the path, making his way to a clearing in the shopping district. From here he could see his true destination floating in the sky in the distance above the sea — the Stormwatchers' floating castle.
Rowan stared at it for a while, standing still, debating whether he should just turn around and leave.
What am I even doing here?
His thoughts drifted to recent memories.
Just a couple months back, off in the countryside of Stanor where he and his master had trained. He'd sat beside his master who lay in bed, his eyes barely open, his voice weak.
"Rowan, you're special. You know that. You need to join the Stormwatch. You need to help them… it's what you were made for."
Not long after, his master passed.
There wasn't much of a funeral. His master didn't have any family and wasn't much for friends, so Rowan simply buried him in front of the man's cabin beside his garden.
The man had taken him in and raised him from infancy. But raising him wasn't all he did. His master wasn't much for birthday gifts, family dinners, or hugs. No, his master was a retired stormwatcher and was completely obsessed with beating the storm. When he found Rowan and realized how special he was, he found a new obsession — turning Rowan into the perfect weapon to fight the storm, putting him through grueling tasks no child should endure, coldly ignoring Rowan's pleas for a normal childhood.
Rowan resented him for it.
But even after all that, at the end of the day the man had still taken him in, fed him, given him a roof, given him a home. Yet after he died, Rowan still did not cry. He couldn't tell if he was even sad.
Why wasn't he crying? Why wasn't he depressed? Was he some sort of monster?
If he was, he knew it was his master's fault. His master made him this way, always told him that crying was for the weak. And he made damn sure death didn't bother him anymore.
Sadness is weakness, and weakness is death. In the world you will be going into, tears shed for the dead will only cause more death, your death.
His master's words.
Even now, as he found himself standing in the presence of the floating castle, preparing to take the exams, it wasn't because it was his master's dream for him. Not to honor him.
Instead, it was simply because Rowan had nothing else to do in life, no other paths.
Well, it's not like I could do anything else anyway. Master made sure of that. This is all I'm good for now.
He began walking once more, but soon felt his stomach grumble in hungry protest, so he decided to stop at a vendor.
The man was rather plump and stared at Rowan with a mean scowl, the apron on his body stained with grease. Smoke wafted off the pot in front of him, prying its way into Rowan's nostrils. Rowan licked his lips as he swallowed.
"Hey, can I get one meat roll? Uh, pork, please." Rowan stared at the man eagerly.
The man spat to his left. "Depends. You got the coin for something like this?" His speech was poor.
"Well, how much are they?"
"Ten bitz a roll."
Rowan grinned, reaching into the pocket of his long black cloak and pulling out a shiny silver coin with the picture of a shield embossed onto it. "Will this do?" He slid the coin to the man.
The vendor examined it, wiping sweat from his forehead, and grunted. "Do just fine." He grabbed the coin and prepared a meat roll for Rowan.
But just as Rowan reached out to take it, somebody blasted between them in a sprint and snatched the hot bun before Rowan could lay a hand on it.
Rowan's eyes widened as they followed the thief running away.
"W-what— Hey! Get back here!"
He gave chase.
The boy who stole his bun slid between people and ran fast without slowing. Rowan was less graceful, bumping into pedestrians left and right and getting yelled at along the way. The boy turned a sharp corner, and by the time Rowan reached it, he'd completely lost him.
The streets were crowded, and the thief was nowhere to be seen.
Rowan placed his hands on his face and dragged them down slowly in defeat.
"I hate this damn city. By the gods, I hate this city!"
Rowan went back and bought himself a new bun. His master had left him with a decent amount of money, so he wasn't too worried, but it still pissed him off.
He walked through the city toward his destination when suddenly he heard a commotion even louder than the city's usual din. Curious, he turned a corner to a more open street where the yells originated and quickly realized what the fuss was about.
Stormwatchers. Go figure.
People stood in awe, yelling praise and gratitude toward those perceived as their heroes. The four Stormwatchers walked elegantly through the shabby streets, draped in dark purple hooded cloaks, moving with an air of smugness as the crowds parted at their presence.
Rowan simply sighed and watched with a disinterested look as they passed him. People around him fawned and cheered until the Stormwatchers disappeared around a corner.
Rowan didn't bother lingering. He had places to be.
He started walking slowly toward the docks, winding through the sprawling, maze-like narrow streets of the city, the sounds of life poisoning his ears. Finally, he reached the great sea wall of Tidehaven and walked through one of its many gates onto the docks.
He looked around at the stretching wooden docks filled with sailors and their boats. He scratched his head.
Which one is for me? The letter said I'm looking for a guy named Ernesto.
He began walking down the dock, looking left and right before approaching an old man who sat in a wooden chair as workers unloaded cargo from his ship.
"Hey, excuse me, but I'm looking for a man by the name of Ernesto?"
The old man looked Rowan up and down, snarling before spitting something to his right and clearing his throat dramatically. He nodded his head to the right.
Rowan looked in that direction and saw a man sitting in front of his boat on a chair, leaned back, sleeping. The man had dark olive skin with messy, dirty brown hair and wore a stained and ripped white tunic with shabby pants.
Rowan furrowed his brows in confusion and looked back at the old man.
"That him?"
The old man didn't respond with words, simply nodding his head.
Rowan offered a sly grin. "Thanks," he said simply.
The old man finally spoke as Rowan walked away. "Ecto var mesti. Stormborn freak." His voice was weathered and slow as he switched between languages.
He's Atherian. Old, too. He was probably just a kid when the storm first appeared there.
Rowan rolled his eyes as he walked.
Rowan turned back around and found himself standing in front of the sleeping Ernesto. He tilted his head to the side, thinking for a minute, before shrugging his shoulders and clearing his throat as loudly as he possibly could.
Ernesto jolted awake suddenly, causing him to jump out of his chair. He looked around frantically before landing his eyes on Rowan.
"The hell are you?"
Ernesto rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"You're Ernesto, correct? I'm here for the Stormwatchers exam."
Ernesto yawned and looked up at the sun before looking back at Rowan. "Cutting it a little close, huh?" He stood up and reached into his bag for a piece of paper. "What's your name?"
"Rowan Valdros."
Ernesto's eyes scanned the piece of paper before widening slightly. "All right, let's get moving then, boy."