The mass funeral took place the next day. Dozens of bodies were wrapped delicately and placed in coffins shaped like rowboats. They were waterproofed with lacquer, for once they reached Navitium, they would be sent into the Gravewater Bay and sent to rest with hundreds of thousands of other coffins at the bottom of the bay.

Everyone stood with their loved ones, sobbing and mourning for the dead. Even the clouds wept that day. But Benedict stood with no one. Everyone gave him a wide berth in their fear, for they did not who―no, what―he was.

Not that he knew any better.

He had never felt so utterly alone.

You're not alone, whispered a voice in his mind. Juliana.

Benedict allowed himself a small, sad smile. Not completely alone.

Not even Angelica deigned to make eye contact with him. She stood over the coffin of her sister, but no tears came out, for they had all dried up. The Duchess of Mercenaries no longer assumed an upright, confident pose. She was hunched over the coffin, her slender hands roaming all over the lacquered wood.

The Royal Family and the Lord Constable had escaped, retreating with their host back to Navitium, the City of Ships. With them, they took any hope Benedict held of a possible transition of power that did not require a civil war.

Oh, how naive he was.

When the funeral was over, he was approached by the Arch-Cardinal. The woman held such a commanding pose that one would not have suspected only the day before, she had fled in terror with her tail between her legs. "Your Majesty―"

He cut her off. "I'm not king yet."

She gave him an annoyed look. "It is that very matter I wish to discuss. We should perform the coronation immediately before we travel to besiege Navitium."

Besiege Navitium. His home.

Benedict shook his head. "I will not wear the Serpent Crown until we claim the city."

The Arch-Cardinal huffed in frustration. "Benedict. I traveled all this way to―"

"If you do not support my decision, then leave!" He had unconsciously raised his voice and the dispersing mourners shrank back in fear. He felt awful.

"Forgive me." He shook his head again. "I must... go and calm myself." He walked away, barely keeping himself from sprinting.

He went to the stables and saddled up a horse before mounting and riding away. He had no map, but he knew the countryside well enough. He had spent many summers at Lux Aestius. He followed the road that led to Navitium before diverging from the path and traversing the lush, soft countryside. Trees dotted and patched the dunes of green that danced and waved in the soft breeze. To his left, a village. The sweet, savory scent of Sersalvonian dishes flew into his nose like a pestering fly. In the distance, the Macaw Monts, mountains vaguely shaped like the colorful macaws native to the Caraíbes, loomed, their green peaks almost scraping the low, weeping clouds. Yet still, he urged his steed on until they reached a ravine that was about three hundred feet deep. Vines crawled up the side, desperately trying to reach the land overhead.

Benedict dismounted from his steed and sat down, dangling his legs over the gaping maw of the ravine.

"What am I?" he whispered.

He saw the faint figure of Juliana coalesce into existence beside him. "You are an Aetherwielder, young prince."

He looked at her. "An Aetherwielder? From before the Banishment?"

She nodded slightly.

Benedict sighed. He had been surprised so much that nothing could catch him off guard anymore. "There are so few stories about them left that they are basically forgotten. The best records we have of Aetherwielders in Sersalvon is of Emperor Atlantes of Seraselv."

"The last Stormwarden."

"Yes."

Juliana gave him a soft, almost pitying look. "The wards are fading, Benedict. You saw that the deities above have begun a divine war. The Aether slowly seeps into the world once more. And you are its conduit."

He shook his head. "What does that mean? That I'm a 'conduit.'"

He felt her hand slowly rest over his heart. "It means the Aether flows from the Heavens into you."

"A conduit... hm. Am I the only one there is?"

"Summon your weapon."

Benedict reached out with his hand and mind, reaching into another layer of the world and pulled out his poleaxe. "Do you want it back?"

Juliana snorted. "I'm an angel, Benedict. I can get a new weapon whenever I want. Anyhow, the poleaxe is also a conduit of the Aether."

Benedict stared at the heavenly weapon. The angelic runes etched along the wooden handle and the steel blade. If that metal could be called steel. "Does it have a name?"

Juliana smiled. "It did... but it is yours now, and yours to name."

Benedict knew his face was lighting up with awe. "I'll name it Angel's Breath."

Juliana nodded. " The weapon is also a conduit of the Aether. The metal of the Aes Sídhe blades are also conduits of the Aether. The great trees of the Alfvúr Faorise also are conduits. But now unto the matter of your abilities."

He sighed. "What even are my abilities?"

Juliana looked at him as if he were an idiot. "You're a Windwatcher, Benedict. You can control the winds."

"Windwatcher," he murmured, mostly to himself, trying to find out where he'd heard or seen it before.

"Windwatchers' abilities are generally... weaker, than those of other Aetherwielders. It is to compensate for the fact that their 'object of manipulation' is in abundance."

Benedict pondered this. "So there's always a balance in the Aether?"

Juliana nodded. "Do not despair, for there are some Windwatchers that can summon great twisters and can blow down entire cities with their power. However, they are far and few in between."

"How do I control it?" he asked. "In the stories―when they speak of magic―those who are gifted with the ability can never control it at first and they have to go through a long training period filled with perils and quests."

Juliana gave him a sly smile. "And in the stories, they are almost always afraid of their power. That's the first step to controlling magic. Are you afraid of your ability, Benedict? This Aether which flows through your veins?"

Benedict thought for a moment. Was he afraid? No... how could one be afraid of a limb? The Aether was a part of him.

"No," he answered resoundingly.

Juliana nodded. "Then controlling it is easy. Reach out with your soul, like you did to summon the poleaxe. Except for this time, try to grab the wind."

Benedict reached out, further than he ever had. The world slowly began to change and a faint light seemed to glow around and in him. The Aether. It flowed through his body and fueled him, washing away any doubts and worries. He reached out and took hold of the wind and air all around him. He felt his hair being ruffled by the small wind that he managed to control.

He laughed, a joyous, merry sound that had not been emitted from his mouth in too long a time. "I'm doing it!"

"Good! Good! Now take that wind and wrap yourself in it!"

"What?"

"You heard me!"

Benedict took the wind and tried to wrap himself in it, he expected it to resist like it always did in the stories, but the wind complied and encased him.

"Now lift yourself up!"

Benedict did as she said and he felt himself slowly float to a few feet off the ground. "I'm doing it!" he shouted. "I'm flying!"

And then he fell to the ground.

Benedict looked around disappointed. "It was all going so well..."

"Try using your poleaxe as a focus point by channeling the Aether within you into the axe. It should help you control it better."

Benedict did as she said and fed the Aether within him to Angel's Breath. The poleaxe sucked up the Aether hungrily and the runes etched on its shaft and blade lighted up with a faint blue glow. Benedict could still feel the Aether in the poleaxe―he could still control it. But now it was easier, as its power was not coursing as much through his body. He tried again, wrapping himself in the wind lifting himself up. His feet left the ground as he went further and further and further into the air before falling down again.

Benedict threw his hands up in frustration. "I thought it was supposed to be easy."

Juliana tsked. "Come here, young prince. To the edge of the ravine."

Benedict walked over to her. "What is it?"

"Look. Down there." She pointed at something deep in the ravine.

Benedict got a little closer and craned his neck so that he could see. "I don't see―"

Juliana pushed him off.

Benedict rushed down through open air. The ground seemed to leap up to try and reach him.

He was still confused about what happened. But if he didn't act now, then his body would crash through the nut trees and he would die a painful death. Or maybe it would be painless? Either way, he did not want to find out.

He flooded Angel's Breath with Aether and wrapped himself in the wind. Up, he commanded, up up.

He could see the tree branches clearly now. They were reaching out to him, trying to grab him and pull him down into the underbrush.

Up up up UP! He pulled up hard, like he was holding the reins of a wild horse.

And up he went.

His feet brushed the drowsy leaves of the nut tree as he shot up into the air at unimaginable speeds. He looked below and saw the Sersalvonian countryside spread out around him like an ever-growing canvas filled with a multitude of colors. Blue, brown, white, and green. So much green. This was his kingdom.

And it was beautiful.

He could feel it as the shackles of guilt and doubt were cast off him.

"I'm flying!" he cheered.

He kept going up, shooting through the clouds and entering the space above. No human had ever been this high up before. It was a serene scene as the blanket of fluffy clouds spread out below him. His kingdom did not just encompass Sersalvon; the sky was also his.

Benedict smiled. He was so... happy.

And then he let himself go into a free-fall. He cheered and whooped as he shot towards the ground, as fast as the wind. He kept going until he was in sight of Juliana, the angel simply stood there waiting, watching. But Benedict knew she was grinning as well.

Before he hit the ground, he flattened out and cruised just above the earth. The earth seemed to reel in his wake as he blazed past. He pulled up again and slowed down, deciding to simply float in the air. He saw Juliana appear next to him. "The sea serpents of old were massive creatures the size of dragons. They were the lords of the sea, young prince."

"Could they fly?" he asked.

Juliana gave him a knowing smile. "Their kings could."

He grinned right back.

"Benedict?" came a voice behind him. One so familiar that he lost focus and fell to the ground, flat on his back.

"Angelica?" he groaned, rubbing his back. As his vision came into focus, he saw the tall, slender, dark-haired figure of Angelica Florjes standing before him. Her sea-blue eyes were diamonds of misbelief. "Was... was that you? Flying?"

Benedict nodded sheepishly.

A slender hand went unconsciously to her face. "How? Impossible."

"Possible," he pointed out. "Um... but it is hard to believe."

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "First, Mikkael the Warrior appears next to you and gifts you a poleaxe. I see you blast Prince Jacquez away with a flick of your arm. And now... you fly. What are you?"

Benedict swallowed a lump in his throat. "I'm an Aetherwielder."

The Thorn of Florjes took a deep breath but seemed to accept it. "Like in the old stories."

He nodded. "Specifically, I'm a Windwatcher. I can manipulate the winds. That's how I'm able to fly."

Angelica's blue eyes bore into him. "They're all afraid of you. The nobles. The Arch-Cardinal. Even my mother, a little bit."

Benedict didn't know what to say. No one had ever been afraid of him before.

"They don't know whether to revere you as a sanct or to tie you up and burn you for a daemon. For now, my mother will keep them in line."

Then, Benedict dared. "She is in league with the Arch-Cardinal, isn't she?"

A mirthless grin appeared on Angelica's face. "And with Count Jovan of House Galamez. Yes, I'm going to have a chat with her about it."

He could see the pain in her eyes. "I'm sorry... for the death of your sister."

Then, the pain multiplied by tenfold. "She was not the smartest of the bunch but... she was my sister. And my mother threw away her life for a gambit."

Benedict remained quiet. But Angelica continued. "You know what's going to happen next, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"My mother, the Duchess of Veroña, perhaps the most powerful duchy in all of Sersalvon, has placed her bet on you. All or nothing. What's in it for her?"

Benedict reluctantly shrugged. "I'm not one for politics, Angelica."

"It's not politics," she objected, "it's simply common sense. Benedict, she's going to betroth me to you. A matrimony between the Houses Florjes and Navíste."

Benedict's heart stopped in his chest. Marriage? It was not something he had prepared for. Not something he had even considered. But he supposed that if he wished to win this war, he would need allies.

War. Civil war. The words burned through his chest and caught in his throat, threatening to make him vomit. What was he about to bring upon his beautiful kingdom? He imagined himself up high once more, staring out at his kingdom from high above. But the lush green land and clear blue waters had transformed into a black hellscape laced with fire and the rivers and lakes were tainted with the blood of tens of thousands.

Benedict said nothing and simply lay on his back, staring at the sky above. At that moment, he tried to be a little like Salvador. "Well, there are worse people to marry." A small smile was on his face to tell her he was making a lame attempt at humor.

Angelica smiled a bit too. She ruffled his hair. "I'm not afraid of you, you know."

He stared deep into her eyes. "I know."

She stared right back. "We're in this together."

"Till death do us part."