The winds of the Stormriven Isles screamed like wild beasts, tearing through the steel lattice bridges of Skyreach Citadel. Up here—miles above the sea—clouds rolled like thunder-dragons and rain danced sideways. Zephyr Kael Zephyreon stood on the highest platform, barefoot, eyes closed.
Every gust carved a path across his skin.
Every current whispered a warning or a promise.
He loved this place.
Because only up here… was he truly alive.
"You're going to die if you keep doing that," grunted Riven Thorne, his old trainer, as he climbed the scaffold. The man's coat flared in the storm, metal-tipped braids swinging like chains. "The Sky Trials begin tomorrow, and you're out here pretending you're one with the wind?"
Kael cracked open one eye. "Pretending? No, Riven. I am."
Without warning, he leapt off the platform.
Riven swore. "Idiot!"
Kael fell like a lightning bolt—arms extended, wind warping around him. Then—
Whoosh!
His body twisted in midair, redirecting kinetic force through his legs. He rode the air current like a blade sliding along a groove, crashing down onto the sparring terrace far below with a sonic slap of air.
He landed in a kneel, spear forming in his hand—Aetheris Talon, born from his soul, sparking with tempest energy.
Sky soldiers on patrol turned. One saluted out of instinct. The others watched, silent.
They feared him.
Not because of what he'd done.
But because of what he might become.
Kael spun his spear and glanced toward the highest spire, where the Admiral's Keep loomed like a crowned dagger.
He knew Tyr Zephyreon watched. Always.
Hours later, Kael sat in a silent wing of the Citadel barracks. Around him, hand-me-down armor pieces lay scattered across a bench. His uniform was half-stormplate, half-worn leather. No crest. No house colors.
He had refused them.
Truth Binding burned faintly in his chest, a silver mark just above his heart. It shimmered in rhythm with his breath, ready to devour him if he stayed still too long.
"If I stop moving, I die."
The door creaked.
In walked Maris Zephyreon, his half-sister—the Fleet's golden daughter.
Her armor was polished stormsteel, lined with Zephyreon blue. Her braid was precise, her expression colder than the air outside.
"I came to see if the rumors were true," she said.
Kael didn't rise. "Which one? That I'm insane, cursed, or planning to upstage you tomorrow?"
She smiled without warmth. "All three. I don't care. You won't survive the Skyveil Trials."
He tapped his chest. "I already have. I've just been waiting for the world to catch up."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're not even officially recognized as an heir. Father won't protect you."
"Good," Kael whispered, rising. "Then he won't get in the way when I take the storm for myself."
That night, as the storm intensified and lightning danced like spirits across the heavens, Kael stood alone at the edge of the Citadel once more. No armor. No banner. Just him and his spear.
Aetheris Talon crackled in his hand.
Above, thunder whispered his name.
Below, the sky reeled.
He would not inherit power.
He would claim it.
And when the Trials came, he would move so fast that even fate wouldn't see him coming.
End of Chapter 1