Cloud fought the urge to yawn, the sunrise causing her to squint at the bright light coming through the room. It had been a few hours but Venta hadn't woken up. 

The accosting smell of flowers burned her nose, the mix of beesnap and dandraleaf plants reminding her of the strong smelling cleaning agents they used a little too frequently in the Arbor. It made her uneasy, as if they were expecting the worst despite how long Venta had hung on.

She rubbed at her eyes, slightly annoyed she had fallen asleep but the absence of the Grand Healer made her feel a little better. Her two aunts continued to guard the door nearby, silent and resolute in their duties but they both gave her a brief smile to see her awake again.

"My little wisp." 

Cloud's eyes went wide, barely able to hear her father's voice despite sitting right next to him. Venta was sitting upright, eyes barely open but he was staring right at her. She couldn't help but be drawn to the injuries on his neck, the dark, sickly veins sticking out against his gaunt frame.

Venta's hands clawed at his neck but Cloud gently took them in her hands and ran her thumb over his bruises as if to heal him through touch alone. She had helped care for Venta when she was younger but being used to seeing him in such a state didn't make it hurt any less.

"Father, don't. You'll end up pulling your stitches again." 

Cloud smiled evenly, her father letting out a wheezy chuckle despite his injuries. The glint in his eyes reminded her of his old self but the bandages hiding the giant wound in his back made her flinch. In a matter of days he almost looked older than Avaitus.

"You didn't half used to badger me as much when you were much smaller. All you wanted to do was fly." He said cheekily, crossing his arms over himself to distract from his missing wings.

Cloud couldn't help but giggle at the memory, vaguely recalling her attempting to dive bomb him when she was little. She gave him a small hug in response, his weight half the size of what she was used to. 

Trying not to focus on holding onto a feather light sylph she leaned forwards like she did when she was a fledgling and whispered in his ear.

"If it makes you feel better, I did use the flutter step you taught me to visit you a little quicker than I should have." 

Venta let out a bold laugh, leaning back against the bed for support. Cloud blushed, attempting to ignore her newly reignited rebellious streak. She knew her mother had been quite reckless during her flight school training but one of the things Aura had taught her was the flutter step. 

"That's my girl. The next Elfidari: breaker of rules and flight records."

He laughed but it turned into a coughing fit, his Folka causing his strength to wane as he sank back into the bedcovers. Cloud couldn't help but cling to his hand, unsure of how to comfort him further.

"Father! Please. The Grand Healer said…"

"I don't care what he said. I'm going to celebrate my daughter's ascension even if it...kills me." 

Cloud blinked, her eyes filling up with tears at the thought of losing him over something so trivial. Her heart clenched in fear, her throat tightened with anxiety as she struggled to rein in her emotions and just breathe. 

"I haven't...I haven't been made Elfidari."

"Little wisp? What's wrong?"

Venta's face broke her heart. Her frustration over Tirithia's ultimatum made her sob like a child, still afraid of the world outside the safety of her father's arms.

"The pyriths. They called a war council...and...and I was so scared so I invoked the Solstice and...I have to fight Tirithia for the throne! How am I supposed to fight a pyrith when I can't even handle a sparring match against my own Thornguards!"

Venta's rough palms brushed against his daughters shaking hands, gently holding her hand until her tears stopped. Cloud sniffed, her eyes trained on the translucent threads clinging to his neck and back. 

The membrane that had once hung from Venta's back was now latched onto his neck. Without his wings the Folka that were used to once ignite his ability now drained the breath from his lungs. It was why the Grand Healers had named it: Breathless.

"Perhaps it's a good thing? After all we are supposed to protect you and-"

Adrisa was elbowed in the ribs by her wife, Glorianna's glare doing more to silence her than any form of words ever could. Venta rolled his eyes at Glorianna, smiling exhaustedly at his sister in law. 

"Come now, Cloudless. Do you know why we named you that?" Venta reminded her brightly, holding her close.

His breathing was slow and raspy but the lilt of Folka was still recognisable even after abandoning it for so long. Cloud longed for a way to use her Folka to restore her father's wings, to lessen the strain on him just a little while longer. She didn't want to lose him. Not yet.

"Because you don't like cloudy days?" Cloud whispered, too wrapped up in her own anxiety to think of a decent answer.

Venta laughed, squeezing his daughter as tight as he could as if nothing at all was wrong. But it couldn't cheer her up no matter how much she wanted it to.

"No, no. That was just your mother's way of remembering."

Cloud gave him a small smile but she knew all about her father's Breathless affliction: that his leftover Folka couldn't be expelled without his wings. His lungs worked fine but without his wings his Folka overpowered his ability to breathe and put too much strain on his body. It was why he was so exhausted just from trying to survive.

"Oh."

She wasn't sure how else to reply, clinging to his arm despite all the wires attached to his Venta patted the edge of the bed and he shuffled towards the other end to allow Cloud to snuggle up with him. She thought of all the risks and sighed, reluctantly pitching her feet up and hunkered down next to him with a beaming smile.

"We called you Cloudless because no matter whether it was rain or shine you'd never mean any less to me. Folka or not." 

He gently poked her in the chest, half singing to her despite how rusty and off key he was. Cloud couldn't help but laugh and lean into her father's chest to listen for the familiar vibrations of his Folka just like when she was a kid.

The harsh grinding sound made her heart drop and the reminder of her last check up burned in her mind. All the other Sectors had at least a slim chance to protect themselves from their own power. 

The dryads had breathable scales, the nymphs had gills and even pyriths could survive with only one wing. It was only the sylphs who had the thin membrane wings that could be severed so easily. All it took was a single arrow from a Traited.

"That and you were born on a day with no clouds. Venta has never been one for originality." Glorianna added, making sure to tease her older brother for his lack of imagination.

"Hey!"

The three girls chuckled, Venta's look of fake outrage making them crack up even more. The wingless sylph huffed, reaching behind him slowly to grab a cushion and attempted to lob it at his sister. It flopped down the edge of the bed, lazily settling against the covers before being kicked off the bed by Venta's bundled up feet.

But the lingering feeling of dread made Cloud sit up abruptly, the reminder of Tirithia's warning clear in her mind. She couldn't keep the peace when others wanted only war. 

She couldn't be the Elfidari her mother was without using her Folka and she couldn't be the leader her father was with the strength he carried through suffering. She wasn't strong. She was angry.

"But what if...what if the Solstice comes and I'm not ready?"

She barely heard her own voice reiterating her anxious thoughts, rocking back and forth to try and quell her nervous disposition. Her voice began to sing all on its own, her Folka coiling its way around the room in a tumultuous wave of fear.

"What if we do go to war? What if I fail and I-"

"Cloud!"

Adrisa's commanding tone woke the acting Elfari out of her stupor but her powerful Folka had left Venta gasping for air. Her ability had coaxed his own to burst forth and the winds she had conjured still circled him ominously until the door slammed open in panic.

"Sing, girl. Sing!"

Avaitus' voice was drowned out in a haze of noise, her aunts trying to coax her through like a fledging going through its first flight. But no matter how desperately she sang it would not yield under her command. 

"I can't!"

Her voice began to crack but there was no sign of the Folka halting. Cloud tore her eyes away from her father, Venta trying to reach for her despite his breathing becoming more and more strained.

The memory of her mother's wounded throat made Cloud clench for her own in horror until finally she let out a harrowing scream. All the emotion and frustration of the war council was let out in a single cry for help, shattering the nearby window with the force of a hurricane.

"Her Folka…" Avaitus said, his inquisitive tone faltering at the thought of such a thing.

The Grand Healer turned his attention away from Cloud and rushed over to Venta, checking his breathing, pulse and the viens against his neck. His head was lolled back, breaking out into a cold sweat but his eyes were alert and wary of her.

Cloud couldn't blame him, frozen in fear as her aunts said nothing. Glorianna's hands were over her mouth, horrified as her wife had her arm around her for support. It took a few minutes for Cloud to recognise the broken glass strewn on the floor and the view of the Ironwood trees now closer than ever. 

The weight at the bottom of the bed shifted and she gave her aunt a fleeting glance before Adrisa wrapped her in her embrace. Cloud didn't resist, her sobs being the only backdrop for the beautiful moonlit sky.

"Cloudy…" 

Venta's hand reached out towards his daughter and brushed against her own to get her attention. Cloud didn't want to look at him, still ashamed of her Folka as Glorianna and the Grand Healer started to use theirs in tandem to provide Venta a little sleep and solace.

Adrisa stayed silent despite the lulling call of her family asking her to help. She had more control than Cloud did. She longed to join in but the lump in her throat forced Cloud to stay silent and listen to the masterful performance of the duo providing what comfort they could. 

"Singing...fighting...is not Elfidari. Not... you."

Venta's fingers slipped out of her grasp, his body sinking into the duvet without a sound, sleeping softly. Cloud's face grew hot, her father's reprimand of her leadership skills starkly reminded her of Tirithia's jabs but the thought of harming anyone with her Folka again made her clam up.

 Without her Folka, she wasn't fit to be Elfidari. With it? She was Breathless.