Kael awoke to the faint hum of the Astral Sea. The fragment of the Sunstone rested against his chest, cradled in a sling of molten light that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. The floating island beneath him seemed to breathe, alive with its own quiet energy. Even the eclipse above quivered faintly, a pulse of awareness passing across the pallid sky.
Lyra Vael stood at the edge of the island, silver hair catching the muted glow of the Sunstone. Her posture was poised, alert, every motion precise. "You slept longer than expected," she said, her voice calm but carrying the weight of warning.
Kael flexed his fingers. The molten-light sigil on his arm throbbed gently, aware, alive, reminding him of the trials they had just survived. His mind still lingered on the visions from the Sunstone trial: charred villages, shadowed figures, and the world unraveling.
"Are we done with the trials?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
Lyra shook her head. "One fragment claimed does not end the path. Many more Sunstone fragments lie across the Skylands, each guarded by trials equal to or worse than the last. This was your first step, Kael—but the road only grows more perilous."
Kael clenched his fist, feeling molten energy coil around his palm. "Then we continue."
The air shifted suddenly, carrying a whisper that made his skin crawl. At first, it was almost lost in the hum of the Astral Sea, faint as a breath. But the sigil pulsed sharply, recognizing it.
"Bearer of Flame… bearer of light… the threads awaken."
Kael froze. The voice seemed to come from everywhere: the sky above, the island beneath, deep within the sigil itself.
"Did you hear that?" he asked, voice low.
Lyra's eyes narrowed. "I did. It is not your power speaking, yet it answers to you. The Astral Sea is alive. Its whispers may guide—or mislead. Be cautious."
They stepped onto the bridge of starlight connecting to the next Skyland. Below, the void stretched infinitely, dotted with drifting lights: remnants of islands long collapsed. The bridge trembled beneath Kael, but the molten sigil responded, weaving threads that stabilized the path.
Movement flickered in the air—subtle, precise. Shadowborn scouts, hidden to most eyes, circled them. Lyra did not slow.
"They watch," she murmured. "Seraphine may also be near. She tests as much as she observes. Stay alert."
Kael's throat tightened. He remembered glimpses of her across floating islands and markets—always watching, always distant. She was neither foe nor ally yet. But the sigil recognized the danger she carried.
A sudden burst of starlight wind struck the bridge, forcing Kael to leap sideways. Molten threads sprang from his hand automatically, striking the shadow tendrils, melting them into smoke.
Lyra's crescent-bladed polearm danced through the air, slicing the remnants cleanly. "Do not waste energy on them unnecessarily," she said. "Scouts only observe. Save your strength for what awaits."
Ahead, the next Skyland rose like a jagged shard of obsidian, its cliffs wrapped in dark forests. Rivers of silvery liquid wound through valleys, reflecting the eclipse's pallid light. At the peak, a faint golden glow pulsed from a structure perched above the treetops.
"The next Sunstone fragment waits there," Lyra said. "But the guardians will test more than strength—they will test your perception, your choices, your resolve. Every step matters."
Kael inhaled deeply. The molten light on his palm coiled and twisted, sensing the anticipation, ready to obey his will. He looked at Lyra.
"Then let's go," he said.
The starlight bridge shivered once, twice, as if acknowledging his determination. Threads of molten energy strengthened each plank and railing. Below, the Astral Sea whispered in currents only Kael could feel.
And just beyond the horizon, a figure cloaked in starlight observed them. Seraphine's eyes gleamed with quiet curiosity and calculation.
The journey pressed on. The fragments waited. And with each step, Kael felt the weight of his destiny settle heavier on his shoulders.
The eclipse pulsed once, and for a fleeting heartbeat, the pallid sky shimmered faintly with gold—a fragile echo of hope.