Chapter 21 – Into the Updrafts
Cool night air rushed against Kellan's face as he and Cyran glided through the twilight. Below them stretched a vast abyss speckled with faint lights of distant settlements, above them the heavens were spattered with unfamiliar stars. Kellan's heart hammered in his ears, yet his grip on the harness was steady. This was no training drill now – they were in open sky, bound for the faltering Beacon.
Bramble was strapped to Kellan's chest, his head poking out of the sling. The dog's ears flapped in the wind, and he occasionally let out a soft whine or excited yip as they soared. Cyran flew just ahead and to his left, a dark silhouette with her wings outstretched, occasionally turning to flash him an encouraging gesture or to point out an approaching gust. Kellan mimicked her movements as best he could, riding the currents she indicated. With each passing minute he grew more accustomed to adjusting to sudden lifts or drops of the air.
A half-moon had risen, lending enough light to see by. After about twenty minutes of flight, the target came into view: a small floating isle, perhaps only the size of a large tavern, hovering solitary in the sky. Upon it stood a structure of stone—a squat beacon tower crowned with a ring of crystals that sputtered erratically with pale light. Surrounding the tower, Kellan could make out jagged rocks and crumbled ruins. It looked unwelcoming, but at least there was a relatively flat area to land.
As they closed in, a sudden turbulence struck. A burst of chaotic wind sent Kellan's glider tipping. He gasped, hastily shifting his weight as Cyran had taught. Bramble barked as they briefly lost altitude. Cyran angled back toward him, shouting over the roar of wind, "Updraft! Ride it, don't fight it!" She streamlined her body and soared higher on an unseen column of rising air that had billowed from beneath. Kellan followed her lead, finding the updraft and letting it push him upward, rather than getting knocked aside.
The turbulence was emanating from the mini-isle itself. Converging air currents swirled around the Beacon, likely a side effect of its instability. It was like flying near the eye of a weak storm. Kellan's vertical minimap flickered warning symbols as pockets of low oxygen and erratic winds were detected. He steadied his breathing; they wouldn't be here long enough to suffocate, but it was a reminder of how hostile this environment could be.
Cyran tilted her wings, beginning a descent spiral toward the lit side of the isle where a patch of bare rock looked suitable for touchdown. Kellan followed, gritting his teeth as a crosswind buffeted him. "Almost there," he murmured to Bramble, who whimpered but remained brave.
With a final sweep, Cyran touched down, running a few steps before folding her wings. Kellan hit the ground a few seconds after. He landed a bit harder than intended, knees jolting, and rolled to bleed off momentum. He ended up on his back, staring at the starry sky, breathless but safe. Bramble wriggled in the sling on top of him, and Kellan quickly unclipped the dog who then shook himself vigorously.
"You alive over there?" Cyran called softly, already unbuckling her harness.
Kellan sat up with a groan and a grin. "In one piece." He stood, and Cyran clapped him on the shoulder. "Hell of a landing. I've seen worse from first-timers, trust me."
They quickly bundled their gliders and tucked them against a rock outcropping. No telling if they'd need to leave in a hurry, but leaving wings deployed in these winds was asking for them to be blown away. Kellan surveyed their surroundings. The air smelled charged, like before a thunderstorm. The Beacon tower rose in the center of the isle, about 30 yards away. It was cylindrical, made of ancient stone blocks etched with glowing runes. However, many of those runes were flickering or dark. Shards of crystal littered the ground near the base—somebody or something had smashed part of the mechanism. A low hum emanated from the structure, warbling unevenly.
"Looks worse than I hoped," Cyran muttered, noticing the debris.
Kellan felt Bramble press against his leg and heard a faint growl. The dog's nose was in the air, sensing something. "What is it, boy?" Kellan whispered. Bramble snuffed and trotted a few steps forward, ears pricked.
Cyran drew a slim dagger from her boot. "We're not alone, are we?"
Almost as if in answer, a shape skittered across the far side of the tower—something lanky and swift. Kellan caught a glimpse of it in the moonlight: a creature about the size of a large cat, seemingly made of cloud and sparkling dust, clinging to the side of the tower before vanishing around the corner. Another Zephyr Sprite? Or some other elemental drawn by the Beacon's energies.
"Stay sharp," Kellan advised, nocking an arrow to his bow out of caution. Side by side, he and Cyran advanced toward the Beacon's base. Bramble took the lead by a pace, nose quivering as he followed whatever scent he'd caught.
The entrance to the Beacon access node was an arched doorway at the tower's base, surprisingly intact. Two stone braziers flanked it, unlit for ages. Above the arch, ancient script glowed faintly. Kellan raised his bow, covering Cyran as she approached the door and peered in.
"Stairs, curving down," she reported, squinting into the darkness. "No obvious light."
Kellan produced a small enchanted stone from his belt pouch—a Tier-1 relic he'd made that provided light (a "sunstone" he called it). With a tap, it glowed soft green, illuminating the stairwell. Cyran gave an impressed nod at the handy tool, and together they began descending, Bramble right at their heels.
The stairs led into a cylindrical chamber within the rock of the isle. The moment they stepped fully inside, the mechanisms of the Beacon hummed louder, as if sensing their presence. Runes on the walls pulsed, casting moving shadows. At the center of the chamber stood a pedestal with a shallow bowl, presumably some control or offering basin. Four stone alcoves were spaced around the circular room, each with a distinct symbol above it: a swirling wind glyph, a stylized feather, an hourglass shape, and an inverted mountain. Kellan's mind, steeped in puzzle-solving from Tier-1, went into high gear.
"Some kind of activation puzzle," he murmured. He approached the pedestal. In the bowl lay a few fragments of crystal that looked recently broken. Cyran picked one up and frowned. "This wasn't natural deterioration—these pieces were pried out deliberately." She showed Kellan where scratch marks and some kind of residue indicated forced removal. "Sabotage by the Flux, likely. They disabled whatever automatic stabilizer was here." She nudged something on the floor with her boot—a slender metal rod with a glass tube and wires, cracked in half. It looked out of place amid the ancient stonework. Cyran picked it up and scowled. "A flux siphon device. I've seen prototypes of these—they can drain or disrupt a Beacon's energy. The cartel's handiwork for sure." She tossed it aside with a growl of disgust.
Kellan clenched his jaw. "Then we'll do this the hard way." He eyed the glyphs around the room. It made sense that each alcove might require something – maybe wind, light, time (hourglass), and gravity (the inverted mountain symbol).
Bramble suddenly sneezed and went to the alcove with the swirling wind symbol. The dog sniffed intensely, then pawed at the floor. When Kellan joined him, he felt it – a faint draft seeping from a tiny grate in the alcove's base. Above, carved into the wall, the wind glyph flickered weakly. Perhaps it needed actual wind to power it.
"Maybe we need to direct airflow or something," Kellan said. He took off his cloak for a moment and waved it near the grate to push more air in. The glyph glowed a tad brighter then faded when he stopped. "Yes, it's reacting."
"I saw some vents outside as we landed," Cyran recalled. "They probably channel air into here. The sabotage might have messed with the circulation." She moved to one of the other alcoves—the one marked by the feather symbol. "Feather… maybe representing balance or weightlessness? Could be a lever or counterweight mechanism." She examined the alcove and found a stone shelf. Placing her hand on it, she pressed down and it sank a bit, as if on a spring. When she released, it rose back. "Yep. Probably we need to press or weigh down certain spots."
Kellan scanned the room and noticed that in the hourglass alcove, sand had collected in a groove, and a small stone cylinder beside it could rotate. He gave it a turn; it resisted, likely needing continuous movement to stay in place. "This might be a timed component. Perhaps we need to activate all four simultaneously or in quick succession."
They decided to tackle two at a time. Kellan would handle Wind and Hourglass, Cyran would handle Feather (pressing the shelf) and inverted Mountain (perhaps meaning apply downward force, like jumping or stomping in that alcove). Bramble, as it turned out, eagerly trotted to the inverted mountain alcove ahead of time and started pawing and hopping there; likely he sensed something.
"Attaboy, Bramble," Cyran laughed quietly. "You take that one with me."
They tried an initial run, but their timing was off—Cyran pressed too early and Kellan was a half-second late on the hourglass. A low rumble sounded and suddenly the room lurched. For an alarming moment, gravity itself flickered: Kellan's feet lifted from the ground as if he were about to float toward the ceiling. Bramble yelped in confusion as he, too, drifted upward. "Release!" Cyran shouted, and as they all let go, normal gravity slammed back and they stumbled down. Kellan's heart pounded at the near miss. Clearly, this puzzle would punish failure. He locked eyes with Cyran and nodded. They would have to be perfectly in sync.
On a count, they set to work. Kellan whipped his cloak in the wind alcove, creating a gust into the grate while simultaneously reaching over to spin the cylinder in the hourglass alcove. Cyran leaned onto the feather shelf with all her weight and motioned Bramble, "Jump, Bramble, jump!" The dog began bouncing enthusiastically in the inverted mountain alcove.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the effect was sudden: all four glyphs flared to life with bright light. The pedestal bowl ignited with a blue flame. The floor trembled and a deep clunk sounded from within the walls. Kellan's HUD pinged an objective complete note just as a section of floor in the center of the room slid open, revealing a ladder leading further down.
"We did it!" Kellan said, a bit breathless.
Cyran gave a victorious grin, wiping sweat from her brow. "Puzzle-solving seems to be another of your talents."
They gathered themselves and descended the new opening. Bramble climbed nimbly down ladder rungs built into the side—his Tier-2 agility clearly improving even his coordination. Kellan followed, and Cyran brought up the rear.
The ladder led to the Beacon's core chamber: a round vault with the heart of the mechanism. Here, a tall crystal about the height of a person stood in the center, cracked and dark at its base though faintly glowing toward its top which presumably extended above the roof. Gears and metal conduits encircled it. On a console nearby lay what looked like a socket where something should reside—but was missing. The key, Kellan thought. This must be where the Beacon's focusing core sat, likely removed by the saboteurs.
As they stepped towards the console, a screech echoed through the chamber. From behind the central crystal slunk a massive shape. Cyran lifted her lantern higher and both of them gasped softly. The creature unfurled like a nightmare out of the dark: a Storm-Manta, its wide, ray-like body nearly filling the chamber from side to side. Its underbelly glowed with bioluminescent streaks, and arcs of static electricity danced along its wingtips. The creature's eyes were pits of violet light and they fixed on the intruders with obvious malice.
"Look out!" Cyran shoved Kellan aside just as the manta lashed with its long tail. The barbed end crackled with lightning and smashed into the ground where they'd stood, leaving a scorch mark.
Bramble snarled, placing himself in front of Kellan. The Storm-Manta flapped its manta-like wings and lifted off, hovering menacingly within the dome of the core chamber. Each beat of its wings sent gusts of stinging ozone-filled wind at them.
Kellan notched an arrow and loosed, but the shaft skittered off the creature's rubbery hide, barely grazing it. Cyran flung her dagger; it embedded in the manta's side, eliciting an eerie screech. The beast retaliated with a crackling bolt of electricity from its tail. The lightning arced through the air. Kellan barely ducked behind a metal console in time, the bolt exploding against the wall in a shower of sparks.
Bramble barked sharply—he had dodged the blast as well, but Kellan smelled singed fur. Enough of this confined duck and shoot; they needed to bring the monster down to their level.
"We have to ground it!" Kellan shouted to Cyran over the thrum of the manta's wings and the humming beacon. She nodded, already understanding. Her eyes darted around and fell on a coil of thick cable lying against the wall—likely used by maintenance crews once. She snatched it up and tossed one end to Kellan. "If we can snag it, we pull together!"
Kellan caught the cable. They spread out to either side of the chamber. The Storm-Manta hissed, confused by the flanking tactic. It turned toward Cyran, perhaps perceiving her as the closer threat. Seizing the moment, Kellan lunged forward with the cable and tossed it across the manta's back, simultaneously shouting, "Bramble, go!"
Bramble, in one swift motion, leapt and caught the end of the cable in his mouth, dragging it under the creature's belly and back toward Kellan. In a heartbeat, they had looped the manta. The creature realized too late; Kellan and Bramble together yanked hard on their end as Cyran heaved on hers. With a flurry of panicked wingbeats, the Storm-Manta was dragged down, its belly slapping the chamber floor.
The impact jolted the whole room, knocking Kellan to one knee. Furious, the manta thrashed, and a jolt of static traveled up the damp cable into Kellan's hands. He cried out as his muscles burned, nearly losing his grip. Gritting his teeth, he refused to let go.
It thrashed, but the more it struggled, the more the cable tangled around it. Lightning crackled wildly from its tail, scoring black burns on the stone floor and metal machinery. One bolt narrowly missed Cyran as she rolled aside.
Now came the finisher. "Bramble, with me!" Kellan roared. Channeling their bond and countless hours of cooperative hunting, Kellan rushed forward along the rope, braving a buffeting wing strike. Bramble raced beside him, eyes locked on their target – the manta's vulnerable head.
Kellan planted his feet against the slippery hide of the creature, anchoring it like a living piton. One—He gripped the rope with all his might, bracing. Two—Bramble used Kellan's back as a springboard and leapt into the air above the manta. Three—Kellan gave a mighty yank on the rope, pulling the manta's head up and exposing its pale throat. Four—Bramble descended like a furry missile, jaws snapping. Five—With a ferocious growl, Bramble clamped onto the manta's throat, right where a pulsing organ glowed beneath the slimy skin. Six—He tore free, ripping out a fist-sized throbbing gland and landing nimbly on the floor beyond.
The Storm-Manta released a ghastly keening wail. Its body convulsed, wings flapping sporadically. Kellan hauled back, dragging the creature away from the delicate central crystal as it writhed. Cyran darted in, retrieving her fallen dagger, and with grim precision drove it into the manta's head. The enormous creature finally shuddered and lay still, the violet light fading from its eyes.
A silence fell, broken only by Kellan and Cyran's ragged breathing and Bramble's snarl that slowly dissipated into a quiet whine as he dropped the fleshy organ from his mouth. Sparks of electricity still crackled over the monster's corpse, illuminating the chamber in fitful flashes.
Kellan dropped the cable and stumbled back a step, adrenaline making his hands shake. "We… we did it."
Cyran leaned against the console, catching her breath. She looked at Kellan and let out a breathless laugh. "Remind me… to take you on all my dates. You certainly know how to show a girl a shocking time." Her grin was equal parts exhaustion and exhilaration. Kellan chuckled, lightheaded with relief.
Bramble trotted back to Kellan's side, fur slightly singed but tail wagging in triumph. Kellan knelt and hugged the brave dog, heedless of the goo and static clinging to his coat. "You amazing creature," he whispered, rubbing Bramble's ears. Bramble licked his chin, panting happily.
A soft chime sounded from above the console. They all turned attention back to the Beacon's heart. The central crystal was now glowing more steadily, but it was clearly not at full capacity. "We need to finish the job," Cyran said, wiping manta blood from her dagger onto a rag. She moved to the console's empty socket. "The keystone or core is missing. Maybe the manta swallowed it or knocked it loose?"
Kellan recalled Bramble ripping out a glowing organ. He approached the manta's carcass and gingerly inspected the quivering gland Bramble had extracted. Beneath it on the floor, amid the viscera, something gleamed with a purer light. "Here!" He carefully reached in and drew out a crystal orb about the size of an apple. It shone with the same kind of runic light as the Beacon, though dimmed. The surface was marred with scratches where the manta's insides had corroded it slightly.
"That looks like it belongs in the socket," Cyran exclaimed.
Kellan quickly brought the orb to the console. With both hands, he placed it into the round indentation. It clicked into place. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the change was dramatic: The crystal core in the center of the room flared to life, a brilliant beam of light shooting upward through the opened ceiling and into the night sky above. The entire tower hummed with power regained. Runes all along the walls ignited in sequence, bright and stable.
In Kellan's HUD, a flurry of notifications popped up:
Lexicon Beacon Restored: Western Sector.
Beacon Alignment 1/4 Achieved.
Alert: Remaining Beacons destabilizing – estimated collapse in 10 hours if unaligned.
He swallowed hard at that last line. Ten hours until the rest fail? The system was essentially telling him that reactivating this one had triggered some kind of countdown for the others, or perhaps that their sabotage had advanced too. Either way, time was now critically short to stabilize all four.
Cyran didn't see his HUD, but she didn't need a display to sense urgency. The Beacon's light was strong again, but beyond the chamber, through the gap above, they could see at least one other beam in the far distance flickering in distress. "One down," she murmured, "three to go."
Kellan nodded, jaw set. "The Sky-Gate won't open unless we fix them all."
Cyran glanced at him curiously. "You really are set on going upward, aren't you? Tier-3 and beyond?"
He met her gaze. "It's my path. The only way to find answers I need." He didn't elaborate, but she seemed to understand. Cyran gave a small smile and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"Then I guess we'll be fixing them," she said matter-of-factly. "You're not getting rid of me now—I can't resist a cause this daring. Besides," she added with a playful light in her eyes, "you still owe me a proper flight where we don't have to fight for our lives at the end of it."
Kellan laughed, the tension of battle easing as he realized she was going to stick by him. "Deal. Let's aim for that once this sky isn't falling apart."
He retrieved his rope and Cyran her dagger. Bramble sniffed around the perimeter of the chamber, as if making sure no other threats lurked, then he sneezed at the acrid scent of ozone left by the manta's electrical blasts. "I agree, buddy. Let's get some fresh air," Kellan said. They climbed back up to the puzzle room and then to the surface, emerging under the now brilliantly shining Beacon. The difference was stark: the chaotic winds had calmed, and the updrafts around the isle settled into a gentle breeze. The Beacon's fixed light poured upward like a lighthouse beam to the stars.
On the horizon, however, three distant beams wavered in the dark, each in different parts of the horizon. One to the north spat intermittent sparks of red light, another in the east guttered like a dying ember, the last in the south barely more than a quivering glow. Each beacon would pose its own dangers, its own trials – that much was certain – and all awaited their turn to be saved.
"We should return to the Market, resupply and inform the Wardens on duty. They might lend support or at least not impede us," Cyran suggested as they prepared their gliders for departure. She looked at the sky and then at Kellan. "Also, you need a bit of rest. You've had, I suspect, quite a day and night." Only now that the adrenaline ebbed did Kellan register the deep ache in his muscles and a cut on his arm he hadn't noticed from the fight. Nothing serious, but yes, they were both winded.
"A short rest," he conceded. "But not too long." He knew there was a ticking clock now.
Before leaving, Kellan walked up to the Beacon tower and placed a hand on the cool stone. In his mind, Tier-2's system felt more alive now, as if acknowledging his effort. We're coming for the rest of you, he silently promised the distant lights. Hang in there.
Cyran stepped beside him. In the glow of the restored Beacon, her face was illuminated, and Kellan was struck by the intensity and warmth in her eyes as she gazed at him. "You know, not many people would risk their neck for strangers and an entire Tier like this. Especially someone who just got here."
Kellan shrugged lightly, a bit embarrassed by the admiration in her tone. "I spent a long time surviving just for myself and Bramble down below. But up here… it's bigger than us. It feels… good to help. And to have help." He gave her a meaningful look.
Cyran responded by leaning in and kissing his cheek—a swift, impulsive gesture. "That's for luck," she said breezily, though a hint of color rose to her cheeks. In the culture of the Second Ring, perhaps this was not so scandalous a move—a reversal of the usual courtesy. Yet to Kellan, it was a bold kindness, and it left him momentarily speechless, warmth blooming where her lips had touched.
Bramble broke the moment with an impatient bark, already padded over to the cliff's edge where their gliders waited. Both humans laughed, the spell eased.
"Alright, alright, we're going," Cyran said, shaking her head fondly. She and Kellan donned their harnesses, securing Bramble once more in his sling. Together they took one last look at the reinvigorated Beacon.
The night sky was split now by a pillar of steady light where there had been flickering chaos. It was beautiful in its way—a beacon of hope. Kellan allowed himself a proud, exhausted smile. One down.
"Ready partner?" Cyran asked quietly.
"Ready," Kellan replied. Bramble gave a little woof of agreement.
They leapt into the air, wings catching the stabilizing winds.
As they neared the Gilded Canopy Market just before dawn, the city was already stirring. The restored Beacon's steady radiance had not gone unnoticed; a few Sky-Wardens were positioned on high platforms, scanning the horizon in amazement at the newly bright western beam. Kellan and Cyran aimed for a landing on the central aerie platform, where a handful of figures rushed out to meet them as they touched down.
Mist-Captain Alera was among them, still in her travel clothes but alert. She had clearly been up all night; concern etched her face until she saw Kellan and Bramble dismount safely, Cyran at their side. "We saw the Beacon light return and hoped..." Alera began, eyes flicking between them. Kellan nodded tiredly, a proud smile breaking through. "One Beacon secured."
An older Sky-Warden officer stepped forward, her uniform crisp. "Report, Instructor Cyran," she barked, though her eyes shone with relief. Cyran gave a succinct summary: the sabotage evidence, the Storm-Manta guardian they defeated, and the successful reactivation. She handed over the cracked flux siphon device they found as proof. The Warden officer examined it with a scowl. "Flux scum... This will go straight to the Council. You've done an immense service."
Kellan's HUD quietly blinked with a notification: Reputation up — Sky-Wardens: Allied. He allowed himself a small proud smile as the officer spoke.
Alera clapped Kellan on the back (nearly staggering him, as weary as he was). "I knew you were something special. You and your team." She gave Cyran an approving nod and crouched to scratch Bramble, who soaked up the praise with a tired wag.
"Team," Kellan repeated, sharing a grateful look with Cyran. It felt right. In a day he had gone from a loner in a strange land to part of a small but determined band.
"There's no time to waste," the Warden officer said, though her tone was gentler now. "The other Beacons are still unstable. We can provide fresh glider canisters, some healing salve, and tonics for stamina," the officer added, gesturing to an attendant who hurried forward with a basket of supplies. Kellan winced only now realizing a burn on his forearm, which the attendant efficiently smeared with cool ointment while another passed Cyran a flask of strong tea. The officer shook her head, continuing, "But few of our ranks have the skills or clearance to accompany you to the other sites on such short notice." She glanced at Kellan with a mix of respect and hesitation, unused to relying on an outsider. "Will you continue this mission?"
Kellan stood a bit taller despite his fatigue. "We'll continue until the Second Ring is secure," he affirmed. "We have to."
Cyran slung an arm around his shoulders in a comradely fashion. "You can count on us. But perhaps a cup of hot tea and a meat pie first?" she added with a wink, eliciting a round of muted laughter from those gathered. Even the stern officer cracked a small smile.
As the first rays of sunrise broke over the canopy, Kellan allowed himself a moment to breathe. Bramble leaned against his leg, and Cyran remained by his side, both literal and figurative wings at the ready. The road ahead would be intense—three Beacons in ten hours—but he felt the resolve solidify among them. He had allies now, people to fight for and with. In that dawning light, amid a city that had welcomed him and a sky that challenged him, Kellan felt more alive than ever. Together, they would see this through—racing the clock, braving the unknown, and rising to whatever trials the Second Ring had yet to reveal.