The Air Prince was young, barely twenty, his palace a labyrinth of floating islands tethered by lightning. He greeted Tucan with a duelist's grin, twin blades of storm-cloud crackling in his hands.
"Come to freeze my winds, Eternity?"
"Come to listen," Tucan said. "Your people thrive on chaos—I offer purpose. Train the mixed-born as envoys. Let them ride your storms. In return, I will anchor your islands. No more lost skies."
The prince laughed, soaring around Tucan on a gust. "Anchors? We are wind. We do not bow."
"Even wind dies when the air grows still." Tucan snapped his fingers.
The islands froze, lightning in mid-strike. The prince plummeted, caught by Tucan's time-slowed grip.
"Fear is a poor teacher," Tucan said, releasing him. "But I am out of time for lessons."
The prince's bravado faltered. "Why do this? You could crush us."
"Crushing is easy. Building is harder." Tucan tossed him a time-lens, showing the Air Kingdom's future—islands scattered, storms gone silent. "Choose."
The prince stared, then bowed his head. "We choose the anchors."
Interlude: The Edge of Eternity
Hafa stood before the time anchor, its jagged edges reflecting Tucan's fractured past. The mural now showed him kneeling before the Water Queen, bleeding for peace.
"You idiot," she whispered, tears blurring the scene. "You tried."
She raised her fist, fire swirling around the anchor. "Now let me fix what you broke."