The parade still thundered through Angel Island, its rhythm echoing across the plazas and white stone streets. Music soared on the air—drums, horns, and voices singing in chorus. Vendors leaned over their stalls, waving sweets and toys to the children darting about with wing-shaped masks strapped to their faces. Skewers of sizzling meat filled the air with smoke and spice, while candied fruit gleamed like jewels in the sun. Laughter and cheer mixed with the rumble of boots as the White Berets marched in flawless formation.
One merchant, an older man with feathered wings flecked with silver, handed a bag of sugared almonds to a cloaked customer—a beautiful woman with soft features and long hair tied in ribbons. "Did you decide on a name yet, miss?" he asked kindly.
She smiled, a playful pout on her lips. "His father wants him to be the strongest defender of our land. So he chose his name—McKinley."
The vendor chuckled warmly. "He surely will be~"
Above them, thirty flying fish cut across the sky in dazzling formation, leaving streaks of colored clouds behind. They painted a flag across the heavens: a silver star at its center, a golden sun surrounding it, and white wings unfurled at each corner. The people roared their approval, waving small copies of the same banner.
Clapp stood rooted, his gaze locked skyward. That flag… it was everywhere—on stalls, on banners, in the hands of laughing children. His breath caught in his throat. After years of chains and silence, this sight of unity and freedom burned in him like fire.
"Here."
He blinked, startled. Amazon held out a stick of candied fruit, her smile radiant. "For you."
"F-for m-me?" he stammered, hand trembling as he accepted it.
"Yes!" she chimed.
He bit down—and his entire face lit up, his taste buds singing with joy he hadn't felt in decades.
"That'll be ten thousand extol." Amazon extended her hand with a smirk.
Clapp froze, dumbfounded. "Shouldn't you… tell me that first?"
Amazon giggled, waving her hand. "It's a joke. A joke. But if you don't mind…"
"Ehhhhhh…" Clapp groaned, unsure if she truly meant it or not.
Before he could say more, a White Beret approached, saluting crisply. "Excuse me. Mr. President requests this gentleman's presence."
Amazon's eyes widened. "OUR PRESIDENT?!"
The two were ushered away.
Elsewhere on the streets, the chatter between rival wings of the Sky Realm filled the air.
"Amazing as always," one man praised as he watched the fish squadron soar past. "Our unit is top-notch!"
Another scoffed. "How come? Yours placed second in the great race last year. Birkas was first, and Wadorf third. Did you forget, Pagaya?!"
Pagaya snorted. "Our factory's made incredible advancements! Jet dials far superior!"
A third voice interjected, sharp with pride. "Just because you're a low-paid factory worker doesn't make you an expert. HESO!"
Their bickering was drowned out as fireworks bloomed across the sky, scattering brilliant colors over the jubilant crowd.
Inside the presidential palace, the air shifted to something more solemn. Gan Fall sat at his desk, reviewing parchment reports and updates from across the United States of the Sky Realm. Angel Island was the largest and proudest of them, far greater in scope than the isolated land it once was. The parliament building, towering nearby, stood as testament to their union. Gan Fall, still in his thirties, already held his second term as President, and his popularity only grew.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," Gan Fall said.
Two White Berets entered—these were not parade soldiers, but elite guards clad in heavier gear. They saluted. "Mr. President, your guest has arrived."
Gan Fall nodded. "Good work."
The door opened. Clapp stooped awkwardly as he entered, his massive frame barely fitting through the threshold. He looked guilty, ready to apologise for nearly cracking the doorframe, but Gan Fall raised a hand gently.
"Welcome," the President said. His tone carried warmth, but his eyes weighed heavily. "We have much to discuss."
Behind Clapp, Amazon stumbled in, wide-eyed. Gan Fall's gaze flicked to her, recognition dawning. "You must be… Amazon, yes?"
"YES! YES, Mr. President, sir!" she squeaked, kneeling at once.
Gan Fall hesitated, then simply gestured. "…Take a seat. Please."
The discussion that followed was long and winding. Clapp and Amazon listened more than they spoke. By the time it ended, they left the chamber both happy and unsettled, their hearts pulled in two directions at once.
Clapp sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Amazon. I didn't know about your father. I'll repay you as soon as I can… for being my guide."
Amazon didn't answer at first. Her eyes shimmered with something unspoken. When Clapp pressed gently, "Amazon?", she blinked and forced a smile. "Yes! Yes! That would be awesome!" But her smile trembled, and she quickly turned her face away to hide the tears that slipped out.
Clapp's chest tightened. He knew that expression too well. He had seen it on the faces of slaves, forced to smile before cruelty. He looked away, giving her space. "Who are these Sentinels you and the President spoke of? When did you see this symbol?"
Amazon took a long breath. "Well… in school, our teacher told us about them. Many, many years ago, they came to Angel Island. They ended the war with Shandora and skypiea, rang a bell, and spread faith in the Sun God. The Shandians prayed to something similar, but the Sentinels said all gods but the Sun were false. They guided us, helped us grow, and showed us how to connect with other sky nations. They are our holy saviours—our guides to prosperity. Their official title is 'Lord Protectors of the Sky Realm.'"
Clapp's brows furrowed. "What are their names?"
Amazon only shrugged. "No one knows. Not even our President. I remember when reporters asked him—he denied it."
Clapp fell silent, pondering. What kind of school taught such history? What truths were buried here?
Back in his office, Gan Fall sat alone. The windows rattled faintly, though the air outside was still. Slowly, he stood, bowing his head toward the shadowed corner of his chamber.
"…How may I assist again, esteemed Lord Protectors?"
The silence was deep. Then the shadows shifted.
Three figures emerged from the dim light, their shapes tall and veiled, as though the very room bent away from their presence. The Sentinels had arrived.