Noa's Chamber, Sky House Infirmary
The room was dim except for the faint blue glow from the core-lanterns along the wall. Noa lay stretched across the bed, one arm behind his head, the other draped lazily over the side. Bandages wrapped his ribs, a reminder that yesterday had been… less than peaceful.
The door clicked open without a knock.
"Sleeping beauty," A's voice drawled from the doorway. "Time to wake up."
Noa cracked one eye open. "What, no dream this time? You're losing your touch."
"I'm trying a new approach," A said, stepping inside. "Face-to-face. Quicker delivery, fewer metaphors. Also—" he gestured to the chair by the bed, "—I needed somewhere to sit."
He dropped into the chair like he owned the place.
"I have a job for you. Is this a good time?"
Noa snorted. "Perfect. I was just thinking how much I'd enjoy taking on dangerous work while my insides feel like they're auditioning for a percussion band. What's the reason for the visit, really?"
A leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice lowering just enough to cut through the haze in Noa's head.
"I found a villain."
Noa raised an eyebrow. "Congratulations. Write a book about him."
"This one," A continued, ignoring the jab, "isn't just another brute or petty schemer. He's the Zaar of Thorn. Winged Lion. He's moving against the Sky House to take the throne. No one else can stop him. And that means you have to."
Noa studied him for a long moment, the sarcasm fading just a fraction. "And if I say no?"
"Then you'll be watching from that bed when the Sky House burns."
A stood, the conversation already over in his mind.
"Get ready," he said, heading for the door. "We leave soon."
The door shut behind him with a click.
Noa lay back, staring at the ceiling.
"Guess rest days are a myth," he muttered.
---
Noa's Chamber, Moments Later
The door hadn't been shut for a full minute before it opened again.
Lyric leaned in, hands in his pockets, wearing that grin that meant trouble.
"Well, well… look who's vertical. What happened, run out of ways to feel sorry for yourself?"
Noa gave him a look. "I was resting. Big difference."
"Resting is just being lazy but with medical permission," Lyric said, strolling inside. "It's an art form. I recommend embracing it."
Noa pushed himself to sit up. "Can't. A has a job for me."
Lyric's grin widened. "The mysterious robed drama club president? What's he want?"
"Apparently," Noa said, tying his boots, "the Zaar of Thorn is making a move on the Sky Realm's throne. And we're supposed to stop him."
Lyric froze, then broke into a slow, exaggerated clap. "Sky Realm politics and assassination attempts. Yes. This sounds like a perfect recovery activity. May I join? I'd like to see the look on their faces when you trip over your own stitches."
Before Noa could answer, the door opened again — A was back, clearly hearing more than he was supposed to.
"I like him," A said, tilting his head toward Lyric. "He's got a survival instinct buried under all that sarcasm."
"Oh, I hide it deep," Lyric replied smoothly. "Keeps people guessing."
Noa sighed. "So… can he come with us?"
A studied Lyric for a moment, then nodded. "This is an examination. I need to know what I'm working with. The Zaar is not a man you get to make mistakes with."
Lyric mock-bowed. "Fantastic. I always wanted to fail a life-or-death test."
---
Scene — Sky House Transportation Deck
The massive glass dome above them gave a panoramic view of clouds drifting under the Sky Realm's towers. Cores hummed in the floor, ready to pulse them halfway across the world in a blink.
A stood with arms folded, watching Noa and Lyric approach. "We're going to enemy territory, not a picnic."
Lyric immediately shouldered his pack. "That's fine. I pack for both."
"Hold on to me," A said, stepping toward the teleport pad.
Lyric leaned dramatically against him. "Careful, mysterious mentor. I'm fragile."
Noa rolled his eyes and took his place on the other side.
"Ready?" A asked.
Before anyone could answer, the core beneath them flared to life.
The world snapped away in a burst of light—
---
Scene — The Zaar's Sky Realm
They emerged into cold, high air that smelled faintly of iron and rain. Ahead, spires of black stone pierced the clouds, each topped with banners of deep crimson and gold — the mark of the Winged Lion.
A's voice was calm. "Welcome to the lion's den."
Lyric's was less so. "And here I thought we were going somewhere nice. Like a beach."
The Zaar's Sky Realm, Outer Courtyard
The teleport flash faded, revealing the jagged heart of the Zaar's territory. Black stone walls rose high on either side, lined with rows of armored soldiers whose spears glinted like teeth. The wind carried the deep, rhythmic thud of war drums from somewhere beyond the gates.
Lyric froze, his eyes wide. "Oh no. Nope. This is… this is bad. This is worse than bad. This is 'write my will on a napkin' bad."
A didn't even look at him. "Relax."
"Relax?!" Lyric flung a hand toward the army. "Do you see that? That's not an army, that's a nightmare convention."
He stepped closer to A and lowered his voice dramatically. "If I die here, please tell people you were my gallant, brooding protector. I want my legend to live on."
A glanced at him, entirely unamused. "You're making this weird."
Noa sighed, rubbing his temple. "Both of you are making this weird."
They stepped forward a little further until the main gate loomed above them — massive, carved with the emblem of the Winged Lion. Beyond it, shadows moved like predators in waiting.
Lyric stopped dead. "Alright. I've seen enough. This was a lovely cultural tour, but I think it's time to head back before we end up as decorative wall hangings."
He turned to A, holding out his arms in mock desperation. "Alright, knight in shining armor. Save me. Take me home."
A didn't react.
"Come on, mysterious hero guy. This is your cue to sweep me away before the scary men with spears—"
A's hand landed firmly on Lyric's shoulder. "Fine."
---
Scene — Noa's Chamber, Sky House
The teleport light faded, leaving them back in the dim familiarity of Noa's room. A was already gone, vanishing like smoke without so much as a goodbye.
Lyric flopped onto Noa's bed with an exaggerated sigh. "And just like that, my brave knight disappears, leaving me to the cruel embrace of my boring older brother."
Noa shook his head. "I'm not even sure why you came."
"Because," Lyric said, kicking his feet up, "someone has to narrate your life in a way that's actually entertaining."
Noa just rolled his eyes — but there was a faint, reluctant smile there too.
The Zaar's Sky Realm, High Tower
From the shadowed balcony of the west watch, Commander Roko stood with arms folded, eyes tracking the faint shimmer of a teleport departure far below.
The strangers had barely set foot in the outer courtyard before retreating — but even a brief glimpse was enough to interest him.
He turned away from the view and began walking, his boots clicking on black stone.
Moments later, he entered the great council hall — a circular chamber lined with tall windows that looked out over the endless sky.
Inside, the Zaar's ministers argued in low, sharp voices.
The topic was the same as it had been for months: the throne — who deserved it, who could take it, and whether the Sky Houses could be broken from within.
Roko lingered only long enough to confirm the tension before leaving again.
This was news worth delivering himself.
---
Scene — The Zaar's Chamber
The chamber was open to the wind on one side, its high arch framing a view of the stormlit horizon. The Zaar of Thorn sat in a wide, black chair, head tilted back toward the sky as streaks of light — distant flares from passing fleets — carved slow arcs above the clouds.
In his hands, a sheet of fine parchment folded under deft fingers.
A paper plane.
With a flick, he sent it gliding outward into the wind. It soared for a moment, dancing between the updrafts, before disappearing into the dark.
The faintest trace of a smile — or maybe disappointment — crossed his face.
Another plane was already in his hands when Roko stepped forward and bowed.
"My lord."
The Zaar didn't look away from the sky. "Report."
"They came. Two young men and a guide. Briefly in the courtyard. They left almost at once."
Still, the Zaar's eyes remained on the drifting flares.
"They were not soldiers," Roko continued. "But one… carried himself like one. The other—" a small pause "—was trouble of a different kind."
The Zaar's fingers tightened on the next paper fold. "And the throne?"
"The council still debates. No progress."
The Zaar released the plane into the wind. It vanished into the night, swallowed by shadow.
Only then did he lean back and, without turning, say quietly,
"Then we will have to make progress for them."
The Zaar's Chamber, Sky Realm
The storm's light flickered across the stone floor as another paper plane left the Zaar's hand, dipping into the wind before vanishing into the dark.
"Roko," the Zaar began, his voice quieter now, "do you know what I've learned in watching wars?"
"My lord?"
"In every war," the Zaar said slowly, "men believe they are serving their king… but they are serving themselves. And kings believe they are fighting for their people… but they are fighting for power. For glory."
Roko was silent, listening.
"At the end of it all," the Zaar continued, "the only one who receives the spoils, the land, the power—" he flicked another plane into the air "—is the king. And the ones who fought? They receive pain. Bloodshed. Loss."
Roko's jaw tightened. "That is the truth in many battles, my lord."
The Zaar's eyes narrowed slightly, as if studying the shapes of clouds beyond the archway. "But what if the roles were reversed? I once heard a story… of a king who ruled like a servant, and served like a servant. His only fear was God, and so he remained obedient to Him. He was the only king who had none—no greed, no hunger for the crown. He lived like a servant, a slave… but fought like a warrior no one could defeat."
Roko tilted his head. "And yet?"
"And yet," the Zaar said, voice lowering, "the only way to defeat him was while he prayed. They struck him from behind, poisoned him. Later, he died."
Silence lingered between them, broken only by the wind.
"What do you think, Roko?" the Zaar asked at last. "Can we rule like that? I know it is impossible… but could we try? And if we must die for it, then so be it. Better that than live for greed."
Roko's gaze steadied. "If any could, my lord, it would be you. But the world fears what it does not understand. They will see humility as weakness."
"Then," the Zaar said, "we find a way to fight without fighting. To win without war. If the throne is truly ours, it will come to us. Without bloodshed."
His fingers paused over the next fold of paper, and he glanced sideways at Roko. "What do you say?"
Roko nodded slowly. "Then we wait, my lord. And when the time comes, we take it without raising the blade first."
The Zaar released the final paper plane. It sailed upward, briefly catching a flash of lightning, then disappeared into the black.
Earth Realm to Aku Realm, Journey to the Mosque
The transport hub was alive with motion. Sleek silver ships hovered in and out of docking gates, their hulls glinting under the artificial sunlight of the terminal dome. Travelers bustled past in every direction — merchants with crates of goods, officials in crisp uniforms, families holding the hands of wide-eyed children.
Emar boarded Eskyroar 12+3, the ramp retracting behind him. The ship's corridors smelled faintly of polished steel and recycled air. Within minutes, the gentle hum beneath his feet deepened into a powerful thrum as they lifted from the Earth Realm's sprawl.
Through the viewport, the familiar blue-gray haze of the atmosphere gave way to the deep velvet of open sky. The light shifted — now painted with the iridescent glow of passing realm gates, each marked with floating glyphs that pulsed in rhythm with the ship's core.
Holographic ads bloomed in the air outside as they neared the Aku Realm. Massive floating billboards projected offers for high-tier Ore refinement, Sky Realm vacations, and luxury homes "above the clouds." Merchants in crisp suits beckoned travelers through the holo-screened doors of shimmering arcades, while street vendors worked beneath hovering signs in a dozen different alphabets.
Emar stepped off the ship into the Aku Realm's main plaza — a city suspended on towering platforms, each one connected by transparent skybridges. Below, the clouds swirled like a slow-moving ocean. The air was cool and faintly sweet, carrying scents from the food markets that lined the upper walkways.
People passed in dazzling variety — Sky Realm nobles in flowing layered robes, Aku merchants in precise, angular uniforms, off-world travelers in armored travel suits, and Earth Realm tourists snapping holophotos.
Emar slowed by a storefront displaying traditional Sky Realm attire. The mannequin wore a deep-blue tunic with silver threading along the cuffs, the fabric catching the light in subtle shifting patterns. Without really thinking, he stepped inside. Minutes later, he emerged wearing the tunic over fitted dark trousers, feeling strangely… prepared.
The route to Mosque Area 4765 wound down a quieter bridge, the chatter of the markets fading behind him. Here the streets narrowed, lined with old stone buildings and low-hanging banners that fluttered in the wind. The mosque's white domes rose above them, their surfaces catching the late light and reflecting it like fire on snow.
Emar found a shaded alcove across from the mosque's main gates and waited. The plaza here was calmer, the flow of people slower. He folded his arms, scanning the crowd without really knowing who he was looking for.
What he didn't notice was the man who had been shadowing him since Earth.
He'd been there at the transport hub. He'd followed through the markets. And now, from across the street, he began walking toward Emar — slow, deliberate steps, eyes fixed on him.
The Sky Realm has multiple major cities/regions suspended in the sky, each with its own style, architecture, and politics.
Aku Realm (or Aku City) is one of these key hubs — a place of high commerce, trade, and cultural blending, where Earth Realm visitors, Sky Realm nobles, and other realm travelers often meet.
It's flashy in parts (holographic markets, malls, floating billboards) but still has older, traditional areas (like the mosque district)