Nyra woke to a sky streaked with silver and violet, the colors of dawn leaking through the cracks of her shuttered window. Her head throbbed as if the alley from the night before had left its echo behind. But the first thing she noticed wasn't the pounding in her temples—it was her wrist. The mark, which had flared violently yesterday, now simmered like molten silver beneath her skin, faint but insistent.
She sat up, her heart hammering. Last night wasn't a dream. The shadows in her room shifted with the morning light, reminding her of the alley, the Skyhunters, the man cloaked in midnight blue. Whoever he was, he'd seen her. And now… he knew she existed.
Her small room was silent except for the faint scratching of Liora's tools from below. The young inventor had insisted Nyra spend the night in the workshop, claiming it was safer than the slums—but Nyra knew the truth. Liora's curiosity had outweighed caution.
Nyra dressed quickly, pulling a tattered cloak over her shoulders. Her stomach knotted as she considered leaving. The market streets, which once felt chaotic and alive, now seemed like a gauntlet. Every shadow could be an enforcer, every alley a trap.
Descending the narrow staircase, she found Liora hunched over a desk littered with parchment, glass vials, and the faint scent of burning copper. "You're awake," the inventor said, not looking up. "Good. I… wasn't sure you'd make it through the night without—" She paused, noticing the mark. Her eyes widened. "It's stronger than yesterday. Nyra… it's growing."
Nyra shook her head. "I can't stay here. I need answers, not a lecture."
Liora leaned back, her fingers smudged with soot. "Answers aren't free, and they're not always safe. But…" she hesitated, then lowered her voice. "There's someone who might help. Or… someone who will use you. Depends on which side of the sky you fall."
Nyra frowned. "Who?"
"Cassian Drae."
The name hit her like a storm. It wasn't just a name she'd heard whispered among fearful merchants and children—it was a legend. Cassian Drae, Skywarden, enforcer of the upper islands. Ruthless, untouchable, rumored to have bent entire floating islands to his will. And now… Liora suggested he might help her?
Before Nyra could respond, a sharp knock echoed at the workshop door. Both women froze. The knock came again, deliberate, measured. Nyra's pulse quickened.
"Don't move," Liora whispered, pulling a small, jagged dagger from her belt. "Whatever it is, it's not ordinary."
The door swung open before she could finish. A figure stepped through the threshold, tall, broad-shouldered, and cloaked in midnight blue. The hood cast a shadow over most of his face, but Nyra's eyes immediately locked onto the intense, silver-gray gaze beneath it.
"I believe this belongs to me," he said, voice calm but edged with steel. He held out a hand, palm open, as though expecting her to come willingly.
Nyra took a cautious step back. "You're one of them… the Skyhunters," she accused.
He tilted his head slightly, as if amused. "I am Cassian Drae. And I am not here to take you… yet. But you are in danger, more than you understand."
Nyra narrowed her eyes. "Danger? From you?"
Cassian's gaze softened for the barest moment—an almost imperceptible flicker of something human beneath the enforcer's mask. "From them," he said. "From the ones who hide in the upper skies, pulling strings you can't even see."
Liora's hand remained on the dagger, but Nyra noticed a subtle shift. The inventor's lips pressed into a thin line, signaling trust—or perhaps resignation.
"Why me?" Nyra demanded. "I'm nobody. A street rat from the lowest island."
"Because your Skymark isn't like the others," Cassian said, stepping closer. "It's… ancient. Dangerous. And it's waking. You have something inside you, Nyra Vale, that others will kill to control—or destroy."
A shiver ran down her spine. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but the pulse in her wrist had a voice now, whispering urgency. Don't run. Don't hide. Rise.
The first Skyhunter appeared at the workshop window, silent and sleek, the black of its armor blending with the shadows. Nyra caught her breath. There would be no running this time.
Cassian moved with fluid precision, stepping between her and the threat. "Stay close," he ordered. And before Nyra could question him further, he snapped a small device from his belt. A soft hum filled the room, and in an instant, the window shattered into harmless, sparkling shards of light. The Skyhunter outside froze, then recoiled as if struck.
Nyra stared, wide-eyed. "What… what was that?"
"Protection," Cassian replied, not taking his eyes off the shadows. "And trust me, you'll need more than that if you survive today."
The three of them—Nyra, Liora, and Cassian—moved quickly, slipping through the back streets of Calemyr. The market, once noisy and bustling, now seemed like a ghost town, its vendors long gone or hiding from the unseen threat. Nyra's mind raced. She didn't know whether to fear Cassian or trust him, didn't know whether to be angry at Liora for dragging her into this, or grateful.
But she did know one thing: she could no longer hide. Her mark had chosen her. And whatever waited for her beyond the safety of the lowest island would demand everything she had—and perhaps more.
As they reached the edge of the floating island, the wind whipping at their faces, Cassian looked at her. "You have no idea what the upper skies hold," he said. "But if you're ready, I'll show you. And if not…"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. Nyra understood perfectly.
Behind them, the alleyways of Calemyr erupted in silver light as more Skyhunters descended, drawn to her Skymark. Nyra swallowed her fear and glanced at Cassian.
"Show me," she said, her voice trembling but firm.
Cassian nodded, and with a single, fluid motion, he leapt into the sky, a shadow against the rising sun. Nyra's heart pounded in her chest, her mark flaring in answer.
And as she followed him, one thought consumed her entirely: I am no longer the girl I used to be...