Chapter 1: the meeting of storms

Zoie had always known the wind whispered to her, just as her ancestors had promised. From the moment she was old enough to understand the pull of the earth beneath her boots and the call of the gods above, the world had felt less like a place to live and more like a battleground. Yet, today felt different. The breeze carried something other than the usual scent of pine and saltwater. It held a warmth, like summer’s lingering breath on the edge of autumn.

She stood by the ancient oak in the town square, watching the people move around her, their conversations a hum beneath the distant thunder rolling in. The clouds were thick and low, their dark underbellies threatening rain. But Zoie felt no unease. The storm was familiar, and she was never afraid of what she could predict. The air was thick with it, as if the gods themselves were drawing near.

She adjusted the cloak around her shoulders, the runes carved into the leather warming under her fingers. They hummed in time with the rising wind. Her dark eyes swept over the crowd, scanning for… something. She couldn’t quite explain it. The pull was subtle, like a thread pulling her toward the center of the town square.

That was when she saw him.

Dalton.

He stood across the square, leaning casually against the stone wall of the bakery, his posture easy and effortless. His broad shoulders and tall frame cast a long shadow in the dimming light. He was, without a doubt, one of the most striking men Zoie had ever seen. His thick, dark hair was tousled by the wind, and his deep brown eyes, so warm and steady, were locked on her as though he’d been waiting for her all along.

There was an intensity in his gaze, a quiet force, but it was not unsettling. It was magnetic. Her heart gave an unexpected lurch, and for a moment, she forgot about the storm, the runes, the gods… everything except him.

Dalton smiled, the curve of his lips gentle but knowing, like someone who understood secrets without words. He pushed off from the wall, his long strides bringing him closer, and Zoie’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening despite herself.

"Zoie, isn’t it?" His voice was deep, rich like dark honey. It sent an unexpected warmth through her, a stark contrast to the chill of the impending storm.

She blinked, her heart still hammering in her chest. How did he know her name? Had they met before?

“I… yes,” she managed to say, finding her voice, though it felt foreign in her throat. She hadn’t even realized she’d been staring.

“Dalton,” he said, offering her a hand. His smile never wavered, and his gaze held hers with a quiet intensity that made the air between them thick with something unspoken. “It’s good to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Zoie took his hand, shaking it hesitantly. His grip was firm, steady, and there was something comforting about it. Her mind spun with questions—how could he have heard of her? She wasn’t someone easily talked about in their small town. She’d always kept to herself.

But before she could ask, the wind shifted, sharp and biting. The storm was moving closer, the first rumble of thunder vibrating through her bones. Something was off.

Dalton's eyes darkened slightly, his brow furrowing just enough for Zoie to notice. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

She nodded, her stomach tightening as the pressure in the air grew heavier. She was no stranger to the sensation that something was coming—something powerful, something beyond human understanding. A storm was rolling in, but it wasn’t just weather.

Dalton seemed to recognize the shift as well, his expression turning more serious. “I think it’s time for us to go.”

Before Zoie could respond, the world seemed to tilt. The ground beneath her feet wavered, the wind howling louder, and the scent of salt and earth grew overwhelming. Her vision blurred at the edges, and she reached out instinctively to steady herself, her fingers grazing Dalton’s arm.

“Zoie?” His voice sounded muffled, like it came from a distance. “Zoie!”

But the world was fading fast, the colors melting together, and all Zoie could focus on was the powerful pull of the storm, the strange force emanating from Dalton, and the unsettling feeling that, somehow, this moment was always meant to happen.

The last thing she saw before everything went black was Dalton’s hand reaching for hers, his expression unreadable.

And then… nothing.

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