The hurricane battered me with a ferocity beyond any foe I had met, battered harder than the roiling chaos in my mind that drove me here, to the ends of the system, in search of—

"Calm," whispered the Voidwalker. "Burn!" roared the Dawnblade. All I could hear was the impassive voices of my teachers, encouraging me (ordering me?) to find my path, find it soon, no matter the risk, because we can never know when it will all be taken away again, when the storm will overtake us. Words, buffeting me like the hail that pelted my face as I pushed through the howling winds, forced my way through to the eye of—

Peace.

The stillness of the hurricane's eye prickled my skin and brought with it realization. We don't have to choose between the calm and the storm. In fact, to have either, we must have both.

That was the day I first called the storm.