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Chapter 5: Skyreach
The Skyreach Cliffs loomed like the jagged teeth of a sleeping god.
Their ascent had taken two days—up switchback trails barely wide enough for a single traveler, through sleet and shadow, where the wind cut like knives and the stars seemed close enough to whisper. Somewhere far below, the great forests and marshes of the south faded into mist, and beyond them lay the war-scarred kingdoms that once stood united under the Crown.
But here, high above the world, Kael felt farther from answers than ever.
He adjusted the strap across his chest, the ember-shard still pulsing faintly against his skin. It had grown more erratic as they climbed—almost as though it were excited. Or afraid.
Vaelen climbed just ahead, his black cloak trailing behind him like smoke. He moved with tireless precision, always one step from the edge, never glancing down.
Kael cleared his throat. "You ever consider flying up next time?"
Vaelen glanced back with the faintest hint of a smirk. "You'd rather fight another Woken?"
"…Fair point."
They pressed onward.
By dusk, they reached the summit.
And found ruins older than memory.
Skyreach had once been a citadel of the Skybinders—an order of seers and storm-mages who lived above the clouds. They were said to command winds, tame lightning, and chart the stars to read the weft of fate itself.
Now, it was a grave.
Half the towers lay collapsed, their stones scattered across the summit like broken bones. Pillars of polished quartz still stood, some carved with faintly glowing sigils that drifted in the air like dust. An ancient bridge stretched across the chasm—a marvel of windstone and songsteel, half-shattered but still humming with the resonance of magic long past.
At its center floated the heart of the ruin:
A circular dais, suspended over a deep abyss by five glowing anchors.
And above it, drifting as though pinned by invisible threads, hovered a shard.
This one wasn't flame-colored like the Ember shard.
It was pale blue. Crystalline. Pulsing with light that seemed to shift with the wind itself.
Kael took a step forward.
But Vaelen raised a hand.
"Wait."
He pointed to the edge of the dais.
Kael squinted.
There—inscribed in the stone—was a ring of symbols, faint and flickering.
"Glyphs of Skybinding," Vaelen murmured. "This platform is a lock. The shard is warded."
"Can you break it?"
Vaelen looked grim. "I could try. But—"
A shadow moved across the dais.
Kael froze.
From the far side, a figure emerged—cloaked in white, tall and silent.
And behind her followed two more.
Each wore robes trimmed in silver and blue. Their eyes glowed faintly with skyfire. And on their chests, etched in pale crystal, they bore a symbol Kael didn't recognize: a spiral of wind over a closed eye.
Vaelen tensed.
"The Remnants," he whispered. "Survivors of Skyreach."
"Friends?" Kael asked.
"Unlikely."
The lead woman stepped forward.
Her voice rang like wind chimes. "You stand at the edge of memory, Emberborn. Why have you come?"
Kael met her gaze. "For the shard. Like you."
She tilted her head. "We do not seek the shard. We protect it."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "From what?"
"From you."
A crack of thunder split the sky.
And then the wind howled.
---
The battle began with light.
One of the Remnants raised her hand and a spear of lightning arced across the chasm toward Kael. He dove aside just in time, the bolt cracking the stone where he'd stood. Vaelen responded with a burst of fire, forcing them back.
The lead woman raised her arms and the air shimmered.
A storm formed in her wake—miniature, whirling, fierce. It surrounded her like a shield, scattering Vaelen's flames.
"They're Skybinders," Kael shouted. "Real ones!"
"Then fight like one," Vaelen snapped, unleashing another blast.
Kael clenched the ember-shard in his fist and felt the flame surge through him. His breath caught—and then he leapt.
The wind caught him midair.
He soared across the dais and landed hard, rolling into a crouch. One of the Remnants met him with a blade of pure air, swinging fast and wide. Kael parried, barely keeping pace.
Their movements were precise. Measured. Like they had fought this battle before.
Kael ducked low, swept the woman's legs, and drove his shoulder into her midsection. She staggered back—then dissolved into mist.
"What—?"
Behind him, the real figure reformed, slashing again.
Kael spun, blocked, countered. His ember-spark pulsed with fury now, and flame licked along his blade. The clash of fire and air sent sparks dancing into the sky.
From across the dais, Vaelen called out.
"Kael! The anchors! Break them!"
Kael saw what he meant. The five glowing spires that held the shard aloft—they weren't just floating it. They were binding it.
He dodged another strike and hurled flame at the nearest anchor.
It exploded in a burst of wind and light.
The shard pulsed, once.
The lead woman screamed.
"You fool! You'll unmake the seal!"
Another anchor shattered.
The wind surged around the dais, growing wild.
Kael could barely stay on his feet now. The other two Remnants tried to restrain him, but he ducked and rolled, letting the flame guide him. One more strike—and a third anchor blinked out.
Vaelen unleashed a wave of fire that scattered the two pursuing Kael.
Kael ran.
The fourth anchor cracked under his blade.
And with a final leap, he slammed his sword into the last.
For a heartbeat, there was only silence.
Then—
The sky screamed.
---
The platform cracked.
The shard dropped several feet, hovering now by sheer will, its glow pulsing violently.
The storm broke free.
Wind lashed across the summit, tearing stone from towers, lifting debris into a spiral of chaos. The Remnants staggered back, shielding their faces.
Vaelen reached Kael, shouting over the roar. "Now!"
Kael grasped the shard.
Pain lanced through him.
This one was different. Colder. Sharper. It wasn't fire—it was precision. Wind and thought and time. It sliced through his senses like a blade.
He saw stars.
He saw the world from above.
He saw himself, older again, but this time with wings of skylight and eyes like stormclouds. He stood atop a floating city, alone, surrounded by nothing but silence.
Then the vision shattered.
Kael gasped, dropping to his knees.
The shard now rested against his chest—its glow dimmed, pulsing in rhythm with the ember-shard.
Two shards. Two echoes.
Vaelen helped him stand.
"You bound it," he said. "Good."
Kael looked around. The Remnants had vanished—fled into the storm.
"What happens now?" he asked.
Vaelen looked toward the east.
"Now," he said softly, "the others will feel you."
Kael's blood ran cold. "You mean the ones who want the shards?"
"No," Vaelen said. "I mean the ones who remember them."
---
Far away, in the city of glass towers and silver bells, a woman stirred in her sleep.
She sat upright in her bed of snow-lilies, her eyes glowing faintly with silver fire.
"The Wind has moved," she whispered.
A servant stepped forward. "My queen?"
The Queen of Glass stood slowly, her bare feet untouched by the cold.
"Send word to the Oracles. The boy has two shards now."
"And the Crown?"
She smiled.
"It begins."
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End of Chapter 5