Aolani had always found joy in the simple parts of life. As a young boy he had enjoyed seeing the melting snow outside of their village. He had enjoyed fishing in the frigid streams, getting his feet wet and cold before returning to the warmer air at the peak of their mountain.

He had always found comfort in those around him, all being like-minded people who too enjoyed simple pleasures and took each day as the blessing it was.

Then he had participated in the class selection ceremony, as all did on the summer solstice of their eighteenth year. And oh, how he had played. It was the first time he could remember his fingers bleeding as he played for others, his ferocity and force of will so evident and so raw in his music, he tore apart his long built calluses just to show how earnest he was.

The elders, peaks bless them, had seen this. They had been able to tell through his song and sound how much he wanted to be chosen and had granted him and ninety three others that year the right of ascension.

Since that day, Aolani had striven ever onwards to live up to the elder's faith in him. He had even defended his home village from a horrible river serpent that had swum up the same frigid stream he had played in as a child.

That was the first sign of things to come, thought Aolani ruefully as he stood in a secluded alley in Lyra, aura at full strength in a concentrated bubble about a foot in every direction from his body.

He’d long since learned the art of aura control and several of the techniques usually meant for 2-Star users. He was the only one of the ninety four from that year to still be a 1-Star, though he knew a fair few of them had perished while serving the peaks. But he had never expected he would need to use them quite so… unceasingly.

This place, this horrible, awful place, was too much for Aolani. Not the monsters, he’d faced more powerful beasts before even ascending. No, it was just… well, everything else.

The air this low to the ground felt thick and turgid, while at the same time moving far too much. The sounds one made carried far further here than they ever would have on the peaks, and moreover, everyone made so. much. noise.

From the creaking of the ships to the shouts of the sailors, to the cries of salesman, to the arguments of patrons haggling on price, everywhere he went in this city, every sound that berated his eardrum, every thick noxious breath that entered his lungs, it was all too much.

He knew that, just over the next bridge, was a temple to the sky. He knew that most of the temples could be found within the city, but he cared little for any of the others. He just needed to get somewhere the air would flow normally again, where he could breathe and where he could sign to people as was right. None of this… ugly, horrid grunting these people called speech.

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Steadying himself with several quick and shallow breaths, Aolani hurried out from his alley and back onto the main street of the city. It had taken him several hours of stopping and going to make it this far into the heart of the stone monstrosity they called a city, and delightfully, as the suns slipped down past the horizon, the crowds began to thin out somewhat. A new, different type of crows was beginning to come out, however, and Aolani wasn’t sure which he would have preferred. Although there were more people under the suns warm light, at least none of them smelled of ale and poor life choices.

But the simple fact he was a user, eyes shining like drops of silver, kept every would-be harasser at bay. Aolani had found that this city of almost exclusively elves, while mostly ambivalent towards the horned folk of the peaks, had the rare and very vocal minority that really didn’t like his kind.

Regardless, it was all finally at an end. He slowed his harried pace as he entered a softly lit fountain square, warm yellow glow stones emitting an almost calming presence as the water bubbled merrily away.

Though he was sure the iconography was lost to the casual citizen of the city, Aolani smiled as he saw that the fountain resembled the seven true peaks of the Cheole mountain range, each one placed higher or lower to march its corresponding mountain. It was a small thing, a mere symbol calling back to a faraway home, but it made him happy all the same.

After taking several more minutes to simply observe the fountain, and after touching two fingers to his lips and then to the gurgling water coming from what would have been the fifth peak, Aolani turned and truly took in the main focus of the square, the main focus of his heart's desire: The temple of air.

Seemingly made from two trees grown right out of the cobbled streets, a large gate of matte black lacquered wood stood at the opposite side of the square, their radiant silver leaves and branches joining above to make a circular entryway into the temple grounds themselves. The spires and towers of the temple itself could easily be seen above this, as they rose several stories into the sky. There were, all in all, seven domes that ascended steeply into the air, almost appearing like giant stone eggs. At their zenith were the thin spires of starlight silver reaching into the heavens, each one topped with a glowing beacon of light.

The simple dark brown stones, silver spires, and radiant lights all built together, though on a much smaller scale due to the encroachment of the surrounding city, was still enough to set Aolani’s heart at ease. But there were two final steps that needed to be taken to make him feel truly calm, and to once and for all begin calling this new and strange city home.

Stepping under the wooden gates and into the temple grounds, he took a series of slow, deep breaths. This was what air should feel like, he thought with a small smile to be at ease again. More than that, the aura of his people, of the mountains, of Lord Taka himself was pervasive, setting the air around him to properly muffle the sounds as they should. For the first time since leaving the peaks, Aolani let his own aura, diminutive by comparison, relax.

After only a few heartbeats, a monk in the familiar silver robes came out to greet him. Smiling broadly, Aolani touched his right hand to his right horn, then fingers moving quickly, signed “Your eminence, I cannot express how much of a relief it is to be here, once again among friends.”

Touching his left horn with his left hand to mirror Aolani, the monk smiled as well, brilliant gray eyes almost shut from the expression, signed back “Blessings, my young friend. This one hopes your journey to our wayward home was a safe one. Come, this simple mind cannot know the trials you have overcome, but it can tell the story would best be had with a full stomach.”

With a twinkle in his eye, and joy on his face, the monk lead Aolani into the second of the seven spires, from which warm pungent spices came wafting out like an invitation.

Warm food, and warm friends. There was hardly more that Aolani could want than this.

That was the moment the music started, and he almost wept for joy. At last… the gift of purposeful sound.