Storm Angel wanted to break Seasons World with the biggest storm it had ever known. He raised his arms and called the wind. It came, but it came weak. His gusts spread thin across the flat ground and scattered before they could gather force. Snowflakes drifted down and melted. He clenched his fists. From this low field, his storm had no reach. He needed height. He needed the highest point in the whole world. He looked up and found it. A towering mountain stood against the sky, its jagged ridges capped in white snow. From that peak, his wind would fall on everything below. Storm Angel beat his wings and climbed. Cold air bit his face. His armor frosted over. He landed on the narrow summit, planted his boots in the snow, and grinned down at the small world beneath him. "Now you'll feel it," he said. He spread his arms wide. This time the wind obeyed. It spun and twisted and grew into a tower of ice and snow. The frostbite gale rose off the peak, sharp flakes slicing the air, drifts swirling faster and faster. It screamed down the slope toward the villages below. Storm Angel laughed. At last, the disaster he had dreamed of. Then the storm slowed. The gale stalled halfway down the mountain. Its spin loosened. The snow softened and drifted instead of cutting. Storm Angel stared. He had not weakened it. Something else had. He turned. A figure stood farther along the ridge. She had wild silver hair and the same bright blue eyes he saw in still water. White and blue armor wrapped her small frame. She held one hand raised toward his dying storm, calm as a held breath. "Who are you?" Storm Angel shouted over the wind. She lowered her hand. The gale collapsed into harmless flurries. "Stormy Angel," she said. "Your sister." He had no sister. He had been alone his whole life. He stepped toward her across the snow. "You're lying. And you're ruining my storm." "I've ruined every storm you've ever made," she said. Her voice stayed gentle. "You never knew why they died. Now you do." Storm Angel's chest went tight. Every weak gust. Every scattered gale. Not his failure. Hers. "Stop it," he said. "Whatever you're doing, stop." "No." She met his eyes without flinching. "I won't let you drown this world." He had finally found his high place. He had finally raised a real storm. And here, on the one peak that could carry his wind, stood the one person who could unmake it. Storm Angel reached for the wind again. It answered him. So did she. The two gales met between them and tore each other apart in the air. The mountain was his. But he could not use it while she stood on it too.