The skyship Silver Warden sailed through the skies like a colossus of steel and wind, its runed sails humming with arcane energy as they caught the breath of the heavens. Wisps of cloud curled around the reinforced hull, and below, the world stretched into a patchwork of sunlit islands, drifting stone cities, and shadowed canyons.
Kael Ryuu stood at the bow, his gloved hands resting lightly on the railing, cloak billowing behind him. The wind combed through his dark, untamed hair as he gazed ahead—toward the distant shimmer of floating spires on the horizon.
The capital was behind him now. And with it, everything familiar.
"I thought you'd be meditating or muttering to your sword," came a voice from behind.
Kael turned slightly. Arien leaned against the mainmast with his usual casual poise, arms crossed over his light armor. His platinum hair was tousled from the wind, and his blade was strapped at his back in a way that suggested both readiness and disinterest.
Kael offered the ghost of a smile. "Figured I'd try brooding today. Thought it was your specialty."
Arien grinned. "You're improving."
A moment later, Captain Veyna joined them at the railing. She wore a dark, high-collared coat over her command uniform, her long crimson braid tied back neatly. Her eyes, always sharp, lingered on Kael's face.
"We're making good time," she said. "The Valemont Isles are just ahead. Beyond that, we turn back."
Kael nodded. "Understood."
"This is the last friendly skyport before the frontier. After Valemont, you'll be alone. No Imperial support, no Crest Academy protection."
"I know."
Arien's brow furrowed. "You really think this is the only way?"
"I need to understand what I am. What this is." Kael placed a hand over his chest. Beneath the fabric, the Void Crest pulsed faintly—hidden, yet unforgotten.
Arien pushed off the mast. "I still don't like it."
"You're not supposed to," Kael replied.
Veyna handed him a scroll sealed in grey wax. "From Senn. He didn't say much, just that it's for your eyes when the time's right."
Kael held the scroll carefully, the seal warm to the touch. It bore Senn's personal sigil, written in an old Soulweaver cipher.
He didn't open it.
Not yet.
---
Arrival at the Valemont Isles
The Valemont Isles broke through the cloudbank like ancient titans rising from a mist-shrouded sea. Each isle floated on massive crystal veins that shimmered with captured wind essence. Towering citadels and skybridges connected the largest islands, while smaller ones drifted like petals around the core.
At the heart of the isles stood Skyhold Dais, the ceremonial dueling capital of Valemont—where swordsmanship was law, and duels settled disputes as binding contracts.
The Silver Warden touched down on a landing tier of polished stone and etched wind-runes. As Kael stepped off the ship, the sound of practice swords and chanting monks filled the air.
A small delegation awaited them—bladesmen in silver and blue, and at the center, a young man in a wind-swept tunic, sharp-eyed, with a curved blade resting lazily on one shoulder.
Seran Vel.
"So this is the Empire's stray," Seran drawled. "The crestless Soulborne with the living sword."
Kael stepped forward, unflinching. "Kael Ryuu."
Seran's grin didn't reach his eyes. "You're in Valemont now. We speak through steel."
Arien muttered under his breath, "Well, that didn't take long."
---
Windfang Duel
Windfang Courtyard was a sky-suspended arena ringed by wind-spires, each vibrating with elemental power. Kael stood in the center, Kurozan slung across his back. Around them, a quiet audience of duelists and nobles gathered—some curious, some skeptical.
Seran spun his blade and entered his stance. "We dance with the wind here, Ryuu. Try not to fall."
Kael unsheathed Kurozan. The obsidian blade hummed softly, tendrils of shadow curling off the edge.
The duel began.
Seran moved like a phantom, his Windstep technique blurring his form as gusts propelled him from angle to angle. His strikes came in flurries—fast, sharp, elegant.
Kael blocked each one, adapting quickly. Kurozan adjusted its edge, mimicking the rhythm of Seran's steps. Soon, Kael's movement flowed with the same windborne cadence—except more precise, more forceful.
Seran faltered for a heartbeat.
Then Kael reversed the flow.
In a single move, he countered with an inverted version of Seran's own arc, disarming him in a clash of steel and wind. Seran's blade skidded off the platform, vanishing into the sky.
Kael stood still, Kurozan leveled at the boy's throat.
Seran dropped to one knee. "Your sword… it learns."
"No," Kael whispered. "We do."
---
A Quiet Goodbye
The Silver Warden waited on the edge of Skyhold Dais, its runes pulsing as the engines prepared to lift. Kael stood alone as Arien and Veyna approached him for the last time.
"You handled Seran well," Veyna said.
"He handled himself," Kael replied. "He needed to be humbled."
"Don't get cocky," Arien muttered. "You're walking into hell next."
Kael offered a rare smile. "I'll keep your voice in my head. That should help."
Veyna stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We won't be there to pull you out this time, Kael. From here on, you fight with what you've become. Trust yourself."
"I will."
Arien gave him a solid nod, then added, "If you run into something you can't handle—don't be proud. Survive. That's an order."
Kael looked up at the sky as the Silver Warden lifted off, sails blazing like wings of fire. He watched until it disappeared into the clouds.
Alone now, he turned east—toward the jagged silhouettes of cursed ruins and storm-cloaked peaks.
The Obsidian Tower awaited.
And with it, answers only the brave or foolish sought.