Far above the world, beyond the clouds and wind, there stood a floating monastery called Skyhall Monastery. It was a peaceful place, suspended in the sky, where monks and priestesses lived their lives in harmony. They did not try to control the wind but to understand it. To them, the wind was alive, it had a voice, a rhythm, and a purpose. They believed that by listening carefully, they could find balance in both the world and themselves.
Among those who lived there was a quiet girl named Ristella.
She had been left as a baby at the foot of the Skyhall Path Gate, the steep mountain trail that led up to the monastery. No one knew who her parents were or where she had come from. But the monks and priestesses took her in and raised her as their own. They gave her love, food, and warmth. They gave her a family.
Ristella never felt lonely. She didn't talk much, but she was thoughtful and gentle. She would often sit alone near the temple bells, listening to the wind as it passed through the towers and open halls. To her, the wind wasn't just air moving through the sky. It was music. It was messages. It was memories she had never lived, but somehow understood.
As she grew up, her connection to the wind deepened. She became a skilled student of windcraft—one who could sense changes in the breeze, read the patterns in the sky, and understand the wind's language better than anyone else. By the time she reached adulthood, she had become one of the youngest wind-priestesses in Skyhall's history.
She also had something very rare: a voice so soft and beautiful that it could calm a storm. Her songs were used in healing, in meditation, and in rituals of peace. When she sang, the air around her would become still, as if even the sky paused to listen. Everything in her life was quiet. Peaceful. Balanced.
But peace never lasts forever.
---
One day, terrible news reached Skyhall Monastery. A powerful ancient being had awakened—Vayumalith, a wind-spirit from long ago. It was no ordinary creature. It was made of sound and storm, with a voice that screamed like thunder and a body made from razor-sharp air. Its song shattered stone and broke the spirits of anyone who heard it. It moved through the sky, destroying anything in its path.
The monastery prepared for battle. The monks and priestesses tried to talk to Vayumalith, to reason with it, but it didn't listen. They tried to fight it, but their windcraft was no match. The floating monastery began to crumble. Their home, their sanctuary, was falling apart.
And that's when Ristella stepped forward.
She knew Vayumalith couldn't be defeated—not with weapons, not with spells. But maybe… just maybe… it could be sealed.
Standing before the roaring storm of Vayumalith, Ristella began to sing. It was soft, steady, and filled with sadness. For a moment, the spirit paused. It had never heard such a voice. But Ristella knew the silence wouldn't last long.
Using forbidden windcraft, ancient techniques long lost to time, she began a ritual—one that would seal Vayumalith inside her own body. It was dangerous, and maybe even deadly. But she had no choice. If she didn't act, Skyhall would fall. Everyone would die.
As the sealing began, she made another choice,one even harder. She took her own voice away.
If Vayumalith ever gained control of her body, it wouldn't be able to use its destructive scream. Without a voice, its greatest power would be lost. Ristella silenced herself… to silence the storm.
Her body began to change. The ritual worked. Vayumalith was sealed. But she didn't come out of it whole.
Her body was weak. Her steps were slow. Her spirit was tired. And worse, she could no longer speak. The wind still whispered to her, but her songs were gone. Still, she knew she couldn't stay at Skyhall. She was now a danger. If she lost control, Vayumalith could return.
So she left.
For weeks, she wandered the world, searching for a way to live with the spirit trapped inside her. She spoke to witches, mages, scholars—anyone who might help. But no one had answers. No one could help her. Some feared her. Others tried to use her. But none could understand what she carried inside.
---
Then came Varnex.
He found her, weak and worn, hiding in a ruined temple. But unlike the others, he didn't run or tremble. He had already learned of Vayumalith's return. He had wanted to capture the spirit himself and bring it to his dungeon. But now that it was sealed inside Ristella, his plans changed.
He saw something in her. Not just the spirit—but potential.
He made her an offer.
He would help her. He would use his resources and his people to make her body strong enough to handle Vayumalith's power. In return, she would serve him as one of his dungeon commanders.
Ristella didn't trust him, not fully. But she had no other choice. Her body was failing. And somewhere, deep inside, Vayumalith was still trying to break free. If she collapsed, the world would suffer.
Varnex kept his word.
With the help of a mysterious ally, he used magic and alchemy to strengthen her body. Now, she could contain the spirit without pain. But the real fight was in her mind. Vayumalith was sealed, but not silent. It whispered to her. Tempted her. Screamed at her in her dreams. But Ristella's will was strong. She held it back, year after year.
In return for this gift, she followed Varnex.
She didn't serve him out of loyalty or love. She owed him a debt. And she knew that while he was powerful, he was also dangerous. She watched him closely. She didn't fear him—but she didn't trust him either. Someday, she might have to stop him too.
Now, she waits in her assigned chamber in the dungeon, Echoing Hollow.
It is a quiet place, filled with wind and crystal light. Ancient stone arches curve through the space like ribs. The floor is smooth, and small whirlwinds drift along, carrying petals. In the center floats a ring of air shaped like an orb. That is where Ristella waits.
She does not want to fight. But she knows she must.
---
And now, our adventurers enter her chamber, Ruvan, Zerik, and Sera.
Ristella watches them. They do not seem cruel or greedy. She does not feel hatred for them. If anything, she feels a strange kind of peace.
But she also knows one thing, she cannot lose, if Varnex can enhance her body, so can he take it away. If that happens, she cannot hold back. So she floats in silence, watching, waiting. Ready to strike if needed. Hoping that this battle will be short. Hoping that peace will return soon.
For now, she is still.
To silence the storm… she silenced herself.