For generations, the river-city of Vellharbor has been famous for its impossible luck: ships glide through storms that smash every other coast, thunder breaks wide around its cliffs, and the lightning towers atop its walls blaze on schedule like obedient stars. The city calls it mastery. The old folk call it something else—a bargain. Three nights ago the bargain stopped feeling like protection and started feeling like a warning. Lightning struck with intent, crawling along metal to find specific doors and windows. Thunder rolled through streets like a living thing. And high above the harbor, a vast shape turns inside the clouds—circling, waiting, and drawing closer with every ringing peal. The city is offering coin and titles to anyone who can “fix the weather,” but the truth is simpler and far more frightening: the Wind-Taker has come to collect what he is owed.