Jack Thunder wiped the sweat off his brow as he looked around. To his relief, he could see again, and the staff had stopped pulsing. It let off a soft green glow, illuminating the cave.

Most of the stalactites were gone, their remains left shattered on the floor. Many cracks decorated the walls. And Terry was nowhere to be seen.

"Terry?! Are you alright?! Can you hear me?!" Jack Thunder shouted, at this point not caring about setting off a cave-in. He just needed to know that the other storm gremlin was okay.

"I'm right here, Jack." Terry poked his head out from behind a stalagmite closer to the entrance of the cave. The orange-clad storm gremlin must have had sense to flee the scene when things got really hairy. Standing next to him was the source of the voice Jack Thunder heard earlier, and the one being he had to thank for his victory.

"Mister San! I'm so sorry about earlier!" Jack Thunder started apologizing. "I didn't mean all those things I said earlier! I was just so sick of being put aside, and I wanted to prove to you I could do it, and-"

"And you did."

"I... how did you find me?"

"Razer was sitting outside. I heard a bunch of crashing noises, so I figured you must be down there. When I arrived, I found the cave destroyed and the wendigo covered in rocks. Your friend here was backed up against the wall, so I picked him up and hid him here. That's when I shouted to you."

All of a sudden, Razer came barrelling down the path and leapt on top of Jack Thunder, bowling him over. The wyvern couldn't stop licking his face.

"Kehehe... Alright, alright. That's enough, Razer. I get it."

Jack Thunder got up off the ground, turning to Terry. The latter's mouth was no longer dripping, but he still looked quite unwell, hunched over and staring at the ground with lidded eyes.

"Come on," Jack Thunder told the ailing storm gremlin. "Let's go home."

Terry could do nothing but nod in agreement. Yes. Home. That sounded nice.

When the three emerged from the cave, the sun was already setting. It hung low in the sky, painting it in hues of purple and pink and orange that could be seen even through the storm clouds of Tempest Island. Despite all the damage it had done, the wendigo could not erase all of the color from the island. And though it would not be right away, all of the color and energy the island once had would be restored. And besides, the place they were taking Terry had enough Anima for all of them.

The orange-clad storm gremlin was in rough shape. Though the wendigo no longer haunted him, his eyes still held a haunted appearance as he lumbered along, saliva still dripping from his mouth. He must have still been a bit nauseous. That was not to mention the damage that had been done to his outfit, which was now more black than orange, a victim to the inky substance that had spewed from Terry's mouth earlier. Both storm gremlins were grateful that, at least, it didn't smell. If it had smelled as bad as it looked, Terry was doubtful that he'd be able to hold any more of his stomach back.

They could see it in the distance. It was impossible to miss. In the days of old, faeries flocked to leys, places in Altairus where one could restore one's magic if it were drained. Many of these had become "ley spas," where healers treated the afflicted with herbs and healing magic. One of these buildings was just outside of the storm gremlin village. As they got closer, they could feel the Anima of the island growing stronger as they approached the simple yet elegant structure in the distance.

As soon as they walked in the door, everyone in the building froze in shock. Even aside from the fact that the Air Champion was with them, the sight of a scuffed-up Jack Thunder bracing an exhausted and sick Terry Paradise on his shoulder told them all they needed to know. The spa's managers rushed to their side.

"Don't worry about me. He's the one who needs help!" Jack Thunder insisted. "I've just got a few scrapes; I'll be fine."

They didn't need to be told twice. They quickly whisked Terry away to another room to be treated. One of them, however, stayed behind, looking at San. "I... are you really San, the Air Champion of Altairus?"

San sighed to himself. "That's not important. He needs your help," he answered, dodging the question.

"You're in pretty rough shape yourself," the spa worker replied, glancing down at San's form. "Come on, ladies. Let's get this tengu some TLC too."

"I... what? Wait! I don't-" San tried to protest, but they whisked him away before he could get the words out.

Looks like I'm getting a spa day whether I want one or not.

The healers pushed San past an endless array of rooms before arriving at the one where he was being treated. The tengu had to marvel at the structure of the building; it had been a while since he had visited a ley, and he wasn't sure what to expect. When he stepped inside, he noticed that there was a small pool filled with steaming water in the middle of the floor. Even from this distance, he could smell that the water had been infused with a variety of healing herbs. Lavender, vanilla, and chamomile scents emanated throughout the room.

When they instructed him to get in, he wasn't one to argue. Immediately his nerves settled as he settled into the water. With that, the healers got to the task of working through San's head feathers. The combination of the soapy water and the healers plucking out his broken feathers one by one settled San. It reminded him of when his mother would preen him when he was a hatchling.

After they had washed and preened the feathers on his head and chest, they set about working on his wings and tail. Here they were a little more careful, focusing their attention on the down feathers. Luckily, San's flight feathers were intact for the most part.

When he finally got out of the water, San caught a glimpse of himself in the water, blurry at first, but sharper as the water stilled.

He had been worried that with all those broken feathers gone, he would hardly have any left on his head. But, no. They had done a really good job. He almost looked as good as when he first took up the Stormbringer all those years ago. Even when he stroked his head feathers back, they were soft and fluffy, nothing like the stiff and dirty mop he had when he was languishing away in the Razorfrost Range.

His eyes held a spark of joy, but he remained stoic as he quietly thanked the healers for their work. He was still silent when he was led out of the room.

They led him to the room where Terry was being held. The storm gremlin was also done with his spa treatment, and now he was resting on a cot in his recovery room. Standing next to him was Jack Thunder.