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The announcement blared across the Inpherno like thunder that refused to fade. Public. Loud. Unforgiving. Ban Hammer, Warden of Banland, Demi-Deity of Justice… had ended it himself.
Windforce stood at the edge of the Heights where he’d first spawned all those years ago, four eyes wide and unblinking. The wind around her howled in protest, whipping her hair into a storm. She’d been there when they found him. She’d shoved past the guards, past the shocked whispers, and dropped to her knees beside the still form that used to be her entire world.
Her massive hands—hands that had leveled mountains and scattered armies—had cradled his head like he was made of glass. The blindfold was still tied neatly over his eyes, as if even in death he wanted to keep things fair. She remembered the weight of him, heavier than any hammer he’d ever swung, and the way her voice cracked when she whispered his name over and over.
“Ban… baby, come on. Mama’s here.”
But he didn’t stir. He never would again.
Days blurred into something meaningless. The wind in Banland carried his scent everywhere—metal, ozone, that faint baby powder she used to tease him about even when he was grown. She refused to let anyone touch his quarters. The guards learned quickly to scatter when she appeared.
She sat on the edge of his oversized bed now, legs dangling like she was the child instead of the mother. The public memorials played on every screen in the facility: tributes, shocked statements, analyses of why a being so powerful would choose this.
Windforce laughed, low and hollow.
“They don’t know you like I do, huh?”
She turned her head slightly, as if he were sitting right there beside her like old times.
“Remember when you were just a little spawn? Fresh out of the Heights, all chubby cheeks and four big curious eyes. You used to grab my finger with your whole tiny fist and refuse to let go. Thought the world was gonna steal your mama away.”
A soft chuckle escaped her, but it broke halfway. She reached out, patting the empty space on the bed. “You were so small back then. I could carry you in one arm while I wrecked half the landscape with the other.
Firebrand used to scold me—‘You’re going to spoil him rotten, sister.’ But how could I not? You were perfect.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Still are, baby. Still are.”
Nights were the worst. She’d pace the halls of Banland, talking to the echoes.
“You always said you wanted to make things fair. That blindfold? So cute. My strong boy nerfing himself just to give everyone a chance. Who’s gonna do that now, hm? Who’s gonna look at all this chaos and decide it needs your kind of justice?”
She stopped in front of a training dummy he’d smashed a thousand times. Her hand brushed the dented surface. “I saw your body, Ban. I held you. I felt how cold you were… but you’re not gone. You can’t be. Mamas know these things.”
Flashback hit her like a gale force wind:
Tiny Ban Hammer, barely walking, toddling after her across the shattered fields she’d created in a fit of boredom. He’d tripped over his own little feet and started wailing. She’d scooped him up instantly, pressing his face into her shoulder. “Shh, shh, my little hammer. Mama’s got you. The wind will always carry you home.”
He’d giggled through the tears, grabbing at her hair with sticky fingers. “Mama stwong.”
“Yeah,” she’d whispered then, kissing his forehead.
“And you’re gonna be stronger.”
Back in the present, Windforce sank to the floor of his room, back against the wall. The public announcement droned on in the distance—some official reading prepared remarks about loss and legacy.
She covered her ears. “Shut up. He’s not lost. He’s right here.” Her eyes flicked to the empty space again. “Aren’t you, baby? Tell them. Tell your mama you’re still fighting.”
Tears—rare, burning things—slipped down her cheeks. She didn’t wipe them away. Instead she hugged her knees, rocking slightly like she used to rock him during rare quiet nights when even deities needed rest.
“I was there when you came into this world. I’ll be here when you come back. Until then… I’ll keep talking. I’ll keep the wind blowing in your direction. Just follow it home, okay? Mama’s waiting.”
The wind outside screamed in agreement, rattling the windows of Banland like it was trying to tear the whole place down. Or maybe… maybe it was trying to carry something back to her.
Windforce smiled through the tears, soft and broken and full of that same fierce love that had raised a demi-deity from nothing.
“Love you, little one. Always have. Always will.”