Air chose me. Curtains moved with sealed windows. Dust rose when I looked at it. I breathed, and rooms listened.

The academy had a favourite. They called him the superior. On Trial Day, he woke the tempest hall and tried to make it obey. The wind snarled, then slipped his grasp. Glass sang. Banners cracked. Instructors incanted wards that died on their tongues.

I stepped onto the stone. I raised one hand. I spoke two words.

"Be still."

The gale folded. The glass quieted. The banners drooped like tired birds. The superior dropped to one knee, eyes down, and did not rise until I allowed the air to move again. No scorch. No bruise. All that remained was left stagnant. The room belonged to me.

From that day, they learnt what my wind truly did. It did not wrestle. It removed. Words lost their endings, fire forgot to burn, and force arrived with no edge. I chose a circle and only that circle knelt. Glass did not break. Lungs did not burst. The room obeyed until I let it breathe again.

They called it caution, but it was fear; they knew I could have done more and chose not to... knew that I could have chosen for it all to go differently. They treat others the same. Lightning, Earth, Water, Fire, Ice. Names spoken like warnings. They should be oaths. We are the Majors, not monsters. Do not hide us. Honour us.

Remember the lesson.