December 19
1330 Hours
The day was at its peak.
The seas around Musk Reef lay flat and silent—an almost obscene calm. Above, the sky stretched clear and blue, deceptively peaceful.
But for the Ghosts of Emberhowl, the quiet was a thin veil.
Inside Arkhe's main briefing room, tension hung like humidity before a storm. No one spoke. Eyes drifted to the door whenever it opened, waiting for the intelligence officer from The Capitolium.
Gracie didn't wait for the officer.
She stepped forward, datapad in hand, and cleared her throat. Professional. Controlled.
"Alright. While we await additional intel, we're proceeding with the briefing."
She tapped the screen; the projector bloomed to life with a schematic of a low-orbiting craft.
"As I mentioned three days ago, we intercepted another cipher—another Khaenri'ahn transmission that came in shortly after your recon over Ameyalco Waters Ravine.
It confirmed what we feared: the Khaenri'ahns have control of a low-orbit vehicle known as the Skywarden—the same one hijacked on November 1st.
And they plan to strike Natlan's Stadium of Eternal Flames today at 1430 hours."
Before the words even finished, the doors slammed open. An officer raced in, eyes hard, folders clutched to his chest.
"Not looking good," he muttered, thrusting the papers at Gracie, then exiting as fast as he'd come—leaving a wake of tension.
Gracie thumbed through the packet, face tightening. Then she fixed her gaze on Emilie, Mona, Mualani, and Ayaka.
"This is what we needed," she said, grim.
"Skywarden was boarded by Khaenri'ahn special forces during its orbital window on November 1st. One astronaut taken hostage—others ejected via escape pods and survived. The Khaenri'ahns didn't just steal it; they repaired it. Quietly. Efficiently. Last known system test was two days ago."
She flipped to the orbital data and traced the trajectory on the display.
"The Teyvat Space Center in Sumeru tracked its re-entry early this morning. It descended over the Nostoi Ocean—and surveillance indicates it's carrying a Khaenri'ahn tactical nuclear warhead. Payload delivery timeline is uncertain."
Gracie stepped to the projected flight path and highlighted the re-entry arc.
"To hit the stadium in Natlan, the Skywarden must use atmospheric braking to bleed velocity. That forces it to drop to low altitude. It wasn't designed for that—at low speed it'll be sluggish and predictable."
She turned back to them, voice hard and clear.
"Your mission is simple."
She let it hang.
"Destroy the Skywarden. You'll get one pass. One shot. No do-overs."
She glanced at the wall clock.
"ETA to target: sixty minutes. That means move—now. Haul ass."
No more words were necessary.
Helmets were grabbed. The four pilots bolted from the room—boots clanging on deck steel, urgency driving each step as they raced to their jets.
They split off at the main deck, each sprinting toward their respective aircraft beneath the roar of carrier operations.
Emilie climbed her Tomcat's ladder—the jet's black skin gleaming like obsidian under the deck lights. She dropped into the cockpit and strapped in. The familiar scent of jet fuel and hot metal filled the airframe.
Pre-start checks.
Altimeter: from STBY to RESET.
Attitude indicator: calibrated.
Power: VDI, HUD, HSD/ECM—green across the board.
Oxygen: flow audible.
AFCS: pitch, roll, yaw—responsive.
UHF: set to GUARD and BOTH.
TACAN: T/R.
Canopy: sealed with a hiss and solid clunk.
She reached forward and flipped the start switch for Engine 2. The turbine began to spool, a rising metallic whine.
At 25 percent RPM, she eased the throttle from CUTOFF to IDLE. Fuel lit. The engine thundered to life.
Repeat for Engine 1—another rising howl.
Twin TF30s snarled awake behind her, their restrained fury shaking the deck.
Ground crew moved in—one disconnecting the external air line, the other pulling ground power. Both stepped back with a firm thumbs-up.
Her headset crackled alive.
"Emberhowl One and Two, proceed to Catapults Two and One. Emberhowl Three and Four, take aft catapults. Prepare for simultaneous launch."
Emilie keyed her mic.
"Callsign check."
"Starseer, online."
"Tempest, ready."
"Soumetsu, clear."
She nodded.
"Copy. Let's go get this done."
She released the brakes and taxied forward under the wands' choreography. Her Tomcat rolled into position, nosewheel aligning with the shuttle.
Launch-bar switch—flipped. The nose dipped as the bar locked in.
Wing-sweep lever forward; hydraulics whined as the wings extended to full span. Master Reset pressed.
Stick, rudder, surfaces—all smooth.
The deck controller signaled.
"Raven, you are cleared for takeoff!"
Emilie saluted. The crew returned it.
Throttles—forward to full afterburner.
The engines screamed.
Catapult fire.
She was crushed into the seat, then weightless—the Arkhe falling away in a blur of steel and sea.
Airborne.
She eased the stick back, smooth climbout. Gear lever up. Thud. Locked.
"Emberhowl One, away."
"Emberhowl Two, away."
"Emberhowl Three, away."
"Emberhowl Four, away."
Carrier Control came through, calm and clear:
"All aircraft launched. Good luck out there."
The four Tomcats tightened into a V formation, wings steady, burners lit, thunder rolling in their wake.
They banked southwest—
toward the Nostoi Ocean,
toward the Skywarden,
at full military power.
Time was running out.
Half an Hour Later
The four F-14A Tomcats climbed to 25,000 feet AGL, slicing southeast through a blanket of mist and silence. The Skywarden lay ahead—huge, slow, and oddly graceful against the haze.
Tension hummed over the nets, especially in Mona's voice. To her the Skywarden was more than hardware: it was a promise of peace, a symbol of hope. There it was, emerging through the cloud like a phantom—its silhouette unmistakable.
Emilie keyed her mic. "We're almost there. I see it."
Ayaka answered, quieter, wary. "We're so close… but Emilie? Don't you think the Khaenri'ahns are always one step ahead?"
Emilie exhaled. "Ayaka… keep your head. Don't give up."
Ayaka nodded in the cockpit. "I know, Captain. We never back down."
Then a flash—sharp against the pale sky. A pod jettisoned from the Skywarden's belly.
Mona cut in, urgent. "Look! The Skywarden!"
Mualani confirmed, clipped: "Yeah! Something just dropped!"
Emilie tracked the object with her HUD. "Escape pod. Looks like a crewman bailed."
The enemy net erupted in panic. "Shit! He got away!" "The Teyvat astronaut?" "Yeah. Doesn't matter. We don't need him anyway."
The Skywarden shuddered; its control surfaces fluttered. "It's not responding—controls jammed!" came a ragged voice. "Get the drag out! We're diving and slowing!"
They were close enough now. Emilie's jaw set. "Prepare for a synchronized strike. Load special weapons."
She flipped her selector to the XLAA rack. Callsigns chimed in around her.
"Ready!"
"Locked and loaded."
"Ready whenever, Captain."
A tone pinged on her HUD—lock acquired.
"Fox Three!" she barked.
Two XLAA missiles left her belly rails in a streak of fire.
Then the others: "Fox Three!" "Fox Three!" "Fox Three!"
Eight XLAA missiles screamed toward the Skywarden, closing the distance in seconds. They impacted in quick succession—explosions tore along the spacecraft's hull, ripping away control surfaces and fragile external fittings.
"Direct hit!" Emilie called.
Enemy comms turned frantic. "We're hit! Someone's attacking us!"
"Teyvat's air force should be tied up over Natlan—what's going on!?"
"Wait… those jets—black airframes, that emblem… the Demons of Emberhowl!"
The Skywarden trembled. Another barrage punched through its skin.
"Shit! Launch the UAVs!" a voice shouted.
"Sir! Launchers damaged! Can't deploy UAVs!" came the reply.
"Then fire up the engines! Now!"
Mona trained her HUD on the ventral bay. "I see launchers… these weren't on the original Skywarden."
Ayaka's question cut in. "Did the Khaenri'ahns modify it during repairs?"
Emilie shook her head, voice hard. "Doesn't matter. We destroy it now."
Mona let out a breath. "When this is over, President Imena will build us a new one."
Ayaka arched a brow. "What about the Sepharis Bird Project? Sumeru and Natlan have been working on that."
Emilie replied without hesitation. "Aerial carriers—different class. The Skywarden is spacecraft-capable. High-altitude launches, human cargo. We can't let it fly again."
Then—
Two massive booster engines ignited.
Flames erupted from the Skywarden's stern, tearing through the haze in twin pillars of fire as the craft began to accelerate.
"Captain! The boosters are active!" Mona reported, voice sharp.
Emilie slammed her throttles forward. The F-14A's TF30s howled in protest, afterburners blooming as she closed the gap.
Her radar pinged—a tone. Lock.
"Fox Three! Fox Three!"
Her last two XLAA missiles screamed off the rails, contrails curling through the thin air.
"Out of specials! Switching to Sparrows!" she said, flipping her selector with a snap.
On the enemy frequency, panic spread.
"I heard Eclipse Squadron got wiped out by them—"
"Don't worry. The Skywarden's invinci—"
Boom.
The nose of the Skywarden dipped violently.
"SHIT! Hit! Boosters down!"
"Sir! We've regained partial control!"
"Get the cycle engines running! Fire up upper defenses! Pitch the nose!"
The massive frame slowly began to climb, belly thrusters coming alive in a column of blue-white exhaust.
"Cycle engines online!" Mona called.
A second later, the defenses awoke.
A torrent of crimson laser fire cut through the clouds.
"Shit! Break break break!" Emilie shouted.
The four Tomcats split formation, pulling high-G dives and barrel rolls to scatter. Chaff and flare trails glittered in their wake.
"What the fuck is that!?" Mualani yelled.
"Laser cannons!" Ayaka barked.
Emilie gritted her teeth. "Take out the cannons. I'll go for the engines!"
"Wilco!"
"Roger!"
"Understood!"
The F-14s regrouped in staggered pairs and swung around. Emilie led the attack, pulling into a steep climb, HUD locking onto two glowing emitters beneath the Skywarden's fuselage.
"Fox Two! Fox Two!"
Two Sidewinders left the rails—thin, pale smoke against the upper sky. She rolled away as six more missiles followed from her squadmates.
Direct hits.
The laser turrets vanished in twin bursts of fire and debris, chunks of armor tumbling into the clouds below.
Then a second volley—this time aimed squarely at the cycle engines.
The impacts tore through the nacelles. Flames sputtered, then died.
"Cycle engines disabled," Ayaka confirmed. "Skywarden descending—rapidly."
Mualani let out a low breath. "What a pitiful sight…"
Emilie's gaze followed the tumbling hulk. "And it was Mona's symbol of peace. We—humans—are the ones who had to take it down."
The enemy net crackled one last time.
"We must regroup!"
"We can't go down yet!"
"Fire up the final engine! We'll take the stadium with us—and the Emberhowl Demons!"
A new bloom of flame erupted aft—blue light, pure and blinding.
"It's firing up the last engine!" Mona cried.
"Fire at will!" Emilie commanded.
She squeezed the trigger.
Two more Sidewinders tore loose.
Six more followed from her wingmates.
Eight missiles chased the burning colossus as it clawed for altitude.
Too slow.
Impact.
The final engine erupted in a thunderclap of flame and smoke.
"FINAL ENGINE HIT! WE'RE GOING DOWN!"
Then, one last broken transmission—
"Damn you… Emberhowl Demons…"
The four Tomcats pitched up, banking wide to avoid the rising plume.
Below, the Skywarden fell—massive, helpless.
A thunderous splash split the sea.
The nose drove down, and a second later—
A blinding explosion lit the ocean surface, rolling waves outward for miles.
Emilie looked down, exhaling a whistle. "And that's all she wrote, folks."
She glanced left at Mona's Tomcat flying parallel. "Mona? You okay?"
Her reply came soft. "Yeah… I'm okay. It had to be done."
A long pause followed.
"Come on," Emilie said quietly. "Let's go home."
The four Tomcats banked northeast, afterburners glowing faintly in the darkening sky—
Back to the Arkhe.
Back to Musk Reef.
Hours later...
The F-14As touched down safely at Musk Reef.
Their sleek frames now stood silent on the carrier's main deck—scorched, oil-streaked, and battle-worn. Ground crews swarmed each jet under the fading amber light, locking wings, attaching tie-downs, and cutting residual power. The smell of hot hydraulics and salt air hung thick in the breeze.
The four pilots stood off to the side in their flight suits, helmets in hand. No one spoke. Fatigue weighed on every breath—along with the quiet gravity of what they'd just done.
Then, footsteps approached.
Grace, Kaeya, and President Imena crossed the deck toward them.
Grace spoke first, voice firm but restrained.
"Emberhowl Team—good work. The Skywarden is gone. No surface ships or aircraft detected in the area, and recon confirms zero fallout in the AO. Clean kill."
Emilie gave a small nod. "Right…"
Her eyes turned toward Imena.
"Madam President… what now?"
Imena exhaled slowly, loosening her tie as if shaking off a weight she couldn't drop.
"We tried broadcasting my message across Teyvat—every channel, every frequency we could reach. Especially Natlan."
She paused, voice tightening.
"But nothing got through. The Vice President called it propaganda. Claimed it was a deepfake, ordered every transmission scrubbed before it could spread."
She looked away, bitter.
"So now... I'm stuck here."
Emilie frowned, arms crossing as her gaze drifted toward the helipad. The Sea Monster Team's helicopters sat idle in the distance, rotors still, dark against the sunset.
"…Then how about breaking into Mondstadt?"
Imena blinked, caught off-guard.
"Too risky."
Emilie stepped forward, conviction flaring.
"Come on, Madam President! It's our only shot at ending this war. If we can get you into the Presidential Palace—force a broadcast, anything—we can expose the truth!"
Ayaka moved to her side.
"She's right. Sea Monster's a Navy SEAL-tier unit. If anyone can punch a hole through Mondstadt's defenses, it's them. You just need to give the order."
Imena turned to Grace, silently asking for her take.
Grace didn't hesitate.
"It's a risk, but it's one worth taking. Sea Monster will have your back. It's time the world saw this isn't propaganda—it's reality."
Imena stood silent for a moment, then nodded, steel returning to her voice.
"Alright… When do I depart?"
Emilie thought for a moment, tapping her chin.
"We'll need time for Sea Monster to kit up and plan the op. I'd say… the twenty-third."
Imena returned the nod.
"Okay. I'll be ready."
Grace pivoted sharply toward the island structure.
"I'll alert the Sea Monster crew. They'll start prep tonight."
Kaeya lingered beside the pilots, offering a faint, weary smile.
"You all did well today. No one else could've pulled that off."
As twilight deepened, Musk Reef fell quiet again—engines winding down, deck lights flickering on one by one.
The war felt closer to ending now—closer than it had ever been.
But the question lingered in every mind:
When?
And if Khaenri'ah kept pulling weapons from the shadows...
Would it ever truly end?