Windfall[2].

Kael gritted his teeth as another blast of wind sent him spiraling. His soul twisted, the force pulling at him like it wanted to tear him apart. His vision flickered—he wasn't sure if it was from pain or the gradual thinning of his existence.

He was being shredded, slowly but surely.

Damn it, think! What am I doing wrong?

He tried to fight the wind, but that only made things worse. Every time he resisted, the force retaliated tenfold, throwing him harder, cutting through him sharper. The white mist around him—his very essence—was dispersing with every hit.

Another gust—another impact.

He gasped as agony wracked his soul. The sharp edges of the rock didn't just tear into him; they ate away at his existence. He could feel himself fading.

The old ghost hummed in amusement from somewhere in the storm. "You sure do love smashing into things, little lass. If you survive this, maybe I'll call you Rock-Breaker." He chuckled, completely unbothered.

Kael ignored him. He had no choice. If he wasted energy arguing, he'd be dead before he could get a single word out.

Think, damn it. The wind…

He tried again, this time forcing himself to feel instead of resist. He let go of the instinct to struggle and focused on the way the wind moved.

It wasn't random.

Not entirely.

The chaotic gusts had layers—some strong, some weak, some violent, some fleeting. There were patterns, hidden under the fury. He just wasn't seeing them properly.

He let the wind catch him, watching how it carried him before another pull yanked him in a different direction. Instead of bracing for impact, he tilted his form slightly, shifting along the flow instead of against it.

For the first time since being thrown into this hell, Kael glided.

It wasn't perfect. His movements were shaky, unrefined, and every adjustment felt like an exhausting struggle against instinct. But he wasn't slamming into anything—not immediately, at least.

"Oh?" the old ghost's voice drifted through the storm. "Little lass finally grew a brain? I was wondering how much longer you'd let yourself get beaten senseless."

Kael ignored the taunt, narrowing his focus.

The wind was still dangerous, but now he was moving with it, lessening the force behind each hit. When he was flung, he angled himself slightly, rolling with the momentum instead of fighting it. It was crude, rough, and painful, but it was working.

The next impact wasn't as devastating. The one after that barely hurt.

He was still getting battered, still being thrown, but he was cushioning the blows, adapting. Surviving.

The old ghost finally clapped, the sound somehow cutting through the raging storm. "Not bad, not bad! I was starting to think I wasted my time bringing you here."

Kael barely had the energy to glare at him.

"Alright, lesson over!" the old ghost declared cheerfully. "You lived, so I suppose that means you pass."

With a wave of his hand, a tear opened in space. The howling winds roared louder for a moment before the old ghost grabbed Kael's arm—his grip oddly solid for someone dead—and pulled him through the portal.

Kael felt a sudden weightlessness.

Then—

He was back.

The chaotic winds were gone. The relentless force that had battered his soul vanished. Instead, the dim glow of the peach-space surrounded them once more, calm and unmoving.

Kael collapsed onto the ground, exhausted beyond words. The white mist around him was thin, dangerously so, but he was alive.

The old ghost floated beside him, looking entirely too amused. "Well, that was entertaining."

Kael glared at him, too drained to say what he really wanted to.

"Oh, don't give me that look." The old ghost wagged a finger. "You learned something valuable today! And you only had to nearly die for it. A fair trade, don't you think?"

Kael groaned, covering his face with his hands.

This damn ghost was going to be the death of him.

Kael barely had time to catch his breath before the old ghost clapped his hands together. "Alright, enough lying around. You need to replenish your white mist so we can continue."

Kael groaned, rubbing his temples. "Replenish it? How exactly am I supposed to do that?"

The old ghost gave him a grin that immediately put Kael on edge. "Simple. Absorb it from others."

Kael's expression darkened. "Evil." He snorted coldly, pushing himself up. "You're actually evil."

"Oh, come now." The old ghost waved him off. "Survival isn't about good or evil—it's about strength and opportunity. And right now, you're running out of both."

Kael turned away with a scoff. "You sure love talking in circles. How about you go check if the soul wraith is still lurking outside instead?"

The old ghost's grin stretched wider. "Oh, you'll love this." He folded his arms. "The soul wraith followed us to Windfall."*

Kael froze. "What?"

"Oh yes, quite persistent, that one." The old ghost chuckled. "But don't worry, it'll take at least two hours to make its way back. Plenty of time for you to figure out how to stop being a pitiful wisp."

Kael cursed under his breath and walked toward the exit of the peach fruit space. He needed a plan, and fast.

Stepping outside, the familiar eerie landscape stretched before him, but his mind was already elsewhere. He reached out, searching for his rat puppet—the one he had left stationed nearby.

Nothing.

Frowning, he stretched his awareness further, reaching for the rat he had placed in the academy, the one following the boy he intended to steal a body from.

Still nothing.

Frustration clawed at his mind. The connections were gone. He didn't know how or why, but this wasn't a good sign. Without a puppet, he was blind, vulnerable.

Grinding his teeth, Kael forced himself to think. He needed a new puppet. Something small, unnoticed—something that could move freely without attracting attention.

Without wasting time, he drifted forward, scanning the area. His gaze darted across the ruined landscape, searching for any sign of movement, any small creature he could take control of.

His time was running out. The soul wraith was coming back.

And he refused to be caught unprepared.