Keal's home.
The room smells faintly of oak and smoke, the hearth's fire crackling low against the silence. I sit at the edge of a wooden bench, Lyraea beside me, her copper hair catching the firelight. Across from us, her father, Keal, studies me with eyes the color of deep stone, with scales..., just like father. They're kind, but sharp, like he sees more than I want him to.
He hasn't asked many questions yet. Just let me drink warm broth until my stomach no longer gnawed at itself. Then, at last, he spoke.
"You've come far, Noah," Keal says, his voice low, almost like a growl softened by restraint. "And you've come into a land unlike any you've known before."
I glance at Lyraea. She gives me a small nod, as if telling me to listen.
"Where am I?" I ask quietly, gripping the wooden cup in my hands.
Keal leans back in his chair, the firelight throwing shadows across his scarred brow. "This is Tharidya, the floating continent. A land suspended above the endless skies, kept aloft by the mana core that pulses at its heart."
"A floating island?" I whisper. The words sound too strange, too impossible.
"Yes," Keal replies. "Tharidya drifts with the winds of the world, but never falls. Its mana core, the heartstone pours energy into the land itself. Without it, the island would crumble and plummet to the world below."
I picture it: an entire continent suspended in the sky, cradled only by magic. My chest tightens with awe and fear. "If… if something happened to the core…?"
Keal's jaw hardens. "Then Tharidya would die. All of us with it."
The fire pops, and silence stretches in its wake.
Lyraea shifts closer, her voice softer. "Don't worry, Noah. The core has never faltered. It's been there since before the first stories were told."
I nod, but the unease lingers. My life had already been ripped apart oncs..., cannot imagine an entire world shattering underfoot.
Keal continues, folding his scarred hands atop the table. "To survive here, you must understand more than the land itself. You must know its hierarchy, its rulers and the weight they carry."
"Hierarchy?" I ask.
Keal's eyes gleam in the firelight. "At the top stands the Dragon Monarch, Vyra Emberlyn. She is not just a ruler, Noah. She is Tharidya's living flame. Blood of the ancients, scaled in fire, her voice can command armies and calm storms. Her word is law."
Vyra Emberlyn. The name coils in my mind, heavy with a kind of awe I cannot explain. A monarch who is also dragon. Part of me wants to ask if she's kind, but another part already knows the answer may not comfort me.
"Beneath her," Keal goes on, "are the high clans, families of influence and bloodlines tied to ancient beasts and mana. They rule the provinces, serve as her generals, her judges, her emissaries. Some are noble. Others… less so."
Lyraea frowns. "The clans squabble too much. Father says they care more about power than people."
Keal shoots her a look, half stern, half indulgent. "It's not always that simple. But she's not wrong." He turns back to me. "And then, Noah, there are the common folk—villagers, craftsmen, farmers, hunters like me. We are many, but without the Monarch's protection, we would be prey to the chaos that lurks beyond."
I think of the beast that destroyed my home, its shadow blotting out the sky. My hands clench. "What about creatures like that? Do they exist here too?"
Keal studies me for a long moment before answering. "They do. Tharidya is rich with mana, and where mana thrives, so do beasts born of it. Some can be tamed. Most cannot. Our villages live in constant watch of their presence. But under the Monarch's decree, there are orders, warrior orders..., that keep them at bay."
"Orders?"
"Aye," Keal says. "Knighthoods, Dragon riders, even hidden clans. Each serves in its way. Some for glory, others for blood. You'll learn more of them soon enough. But know this: in Tharidya, strength is survival. And survival is honor."
I look into the flames, my reflection trembling in the fire's glow. Strength. Survival. Those words sound like echoes of my father's voice, of his endless lessons. Yet now, they feel heavier.
"Why are you telling me this?" I ask finally.
Keal leans forward, his gaze unwavering. "Because you carry weight, boy. I can see it in your eyes. You're not just lost, you're marked by something. Perhaps by fate, perhaps by blood. But whoever sent you here, it was no accident."
I freeze. Did he somehow know? About my parents? About what I left behind?
Lyraea's hand brushes mine gently under the table. She doesn't speak, but the gesture anchors me, keeps me from drowning in questions.
"I…" My throat feels tight. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't even know if my parents are alive."
The firelight flickers, and for a moment the sorrow in Keal's face mirrors my own. "Then hold to what you do know. They loved you enough to send you away. That is not weakness, Noah, it is the greatest act of strength. You live. And as long as you live, you carry their hope."
My chest aches, but something in his words plants a fragile seed inside me. Not comfort, not yet... but perhaps resolve.
Lyraea leans closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're not alone anymore."
I meet her eyes, green like stormlit seas, steady and kind. For the first time since the portal tore me from my family, I believe her.
Keal rises then, towering but not unkind. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow, I'll show you more of Tyuinwood, our village, and you'll begin to understand this land you've fallen into. Tharidya is harsh, but it can also be home, if you're willing to grow with it."
I nod slowly. My heart is still heavy, but the weight feels… shared.
As Lyraea guides me toward the small cot prepared for me, I glance back once more at Keal. His scar catches the firelight, and for a fleeting moment, he looks almost like my father... weathered, strong, resolute.
I whisper into the quiet, too soft for either of them to hear.
"I'll grow stronger. For them. For me."
And in the heart of Tharidya, a world floating above the abyss, my journey truly begins.
End of Chapter.