"Paper rustled by the wind" - Wyatt Resnick

"The falling rain pelted the window, filling the room with a comforting crackle.
Erin closed her eyes, lulled by the sound. She held the metal robin tight in her gloved hands, sinking in her element, in the storm that ruled outside. In the song of the Messenger, a song of fear and awe.
In her mind, the lightning painted the familiar silhouette of the city. She slid down against the curtains, on the edge of slumber.
Paper rustled by the wind.
Woken by the noise, Erin saw her brother's hand. Yellow light coursed underneath the skin in luminous veins, tainted by emerald; this fingertips caressed the air about the book, and the gentle breeze turned the pages. The vision was almost profane: a miracle, used to browse a book.
He didn't notice her waking. His gaze was fixed beyond the window. His eyes, lit up by the occasional lightning, seemed as distant as the sky itself.
"Where have you gone to, this time?"
She thought, searching for a revelation in the boy's face, a key to unravel that mystery. Something to hold on.
"Are you still looking for her?"
Erin did not ask those questions.
Wyatt gave no answers.
Their silence drowned in the storm outside."
-Canor Plumae Crystallis