The Sky Isles of Lioaratheia

Ardyn woke with the scoreboard still burning behind his eyelids—its luminous glow imprinted like an afterimage. For a second, he lay still, staring upward.

 Then he sat up, and a sudden jolt of soreness rippled through his back—sharp and deep. He hissed through his teeth, hand instinctively reaching behind to the spot where the hit had landed.

 Yesterday's match came rushing back.

 "Need an Aethermender?" a voice called out.

 Ardyn turned and saw Roe seated in the corner, finishing the last sip from his cup before setting it down with a quiet clink beside the table.

 He smiled and shook his head. "I'm fine."

 He stood, grabbed his chair, and walked over to Ardyn's bed. With one easy motion, he swung it around and straddled it backwards, arms draped casually over the backrest, chin resting on one forearm like he'd been there all night.

 "You always manage to surprise us," Roe said, watching him with a half-grin. "How do you come up with decisions like those?"

 Ardyn's eyes drifted toward the floor, then up to the soft hum of the ceiling lights. "I actually don't know," he said quietly.

 Roe chuckled. "Well, whatever it is, kid—you really made an impression during that game. Keep surprising us."

 He leaned back slightly. "That pain won't last. Give it a day, you'll be up again—though you'll probably carry the bruise like a medal." He paused.

 "You need anything?"

 Ardyn hesitated, then looked at him. "Actually… I do."

 He drew a breath. "During the game—I saw Pops. Did anyone else see him? Did he talk to any of you?"

 "Oh, yeah. I almost forgot," Roe said, scratching his cheek. "After the match, he came into the med room while we were bringing you in. I didn't even know he was here in Caldrith Vale."

 He gave a small shake of his head. "I asked if he wanted to talk to you, but he said no. Just told me to pass a message—that he's heading back to Windmere."

 Roe smirked. "Said that hit was nothing. Told me he's knocked you way harder back when you were a kid."

 He laughed, but there was a softness under it.

 Roe pushed up from the chair with a stretch. "I'll head out. Your roommates—Pimri and Doma—they said they were just stepping out to buy something. Might be back any minute now."

 He made it to the door, hand already on the handle, then paused and turned halfway back around.

 "Oh—another thing!" he said, lifting a finger like he'd nearly forgotten. "Mirae Rinaka stopped by the med room earlier."

 Ardyn blinked. "She did?"

 "Yeah. Said she's staying here in Corith Inn too. Asked what your room number was."

 Ardyn sat up straighter. "Why?"

 Roe shrugged, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Didn't say. Just said thanks after I gave her the number, then left."

 He opened the door again. "Anyway, get some rest. You earned it."

 And with that, he stepped out.

* * *

The following morning, the scent of toasted barley and citrus oil drifted through the small room—leftovers from whatever breakfast Pimri had bartered for at the inn's kitchen.

 Ardyn sat at the foot of his bed, one boot off, adjusting a worn latch on his Galegear. Doma was stretched out on the floor, tossing a stress ball in the air like he didn't have a care in the world, while Pimri leaned near the window, squinting at something out over the rooftops.

 None of them spoke at first. The kind of quiet that settles between teammates after a victory—not awkward, just comfortably unfinished.

 Ardyn broke it.

 "Who do you think we'll end up facing—Orriven or Draymoor?"

 "Good question, Ard," Pimri said as he pushed off the wall and came over to join them on the floor. "What do you think, Doma?"

 Doma let the stress ball drop with a soft thud. "Hmm... It'll be a battle of strength versus speed. I'm thinking Draymoor takes it. Their defense is tight."

 "Really?" Pimri raised a brow. "I'm leaning toward Orriven."

 "Have you guys ever won the preliminary matches before?" Ardyn asked.

 "Nope," Pimri said, grinning. "We always lose the first game!"

 "Seriously?" Ardyn looked between them.

 "You really didn't watch the games before?" Pimri nudged him. "Too busy being a grease-stained mechanic?"

 "Way back," Doma added, "when Captain Seris was still young and playing, Windmere used to push past the prelims. They weren't always bottom-rank."

 "I'm actually torn about wanting to win preliminaries," Pimri said, standing and grabbing a skyfruit from the table.

 Ardyn frowned. "Why?"

 "Man." Pimri took a bite. "After prelims, the game changes."

 "What do you mean?"

 "No more 'safety-first' rules," he said with his mouth half full. "Prelims are strictly non-fatal. But after that? Real strikes. Real risks."

 "There've even been deaths," Doma added calmly, like it was just part of the air.

 Ardyn blinked. "Whoa…"

 "You didn't read the player's contract before you signed?" Doma asked.

 "Not really in the mood for reading that day," Ardyn muttered, scratching his cheek with a guilty look.

 Just then, a soft chime sounded at the door.

 Pimri glanced toward the door and walked over, then pulled it open.

 He froze for a second, eyebrows lifting as he took in the unexpected visitor.

 Then came a voice from outside—calm and clear.

 "Is Ardyn there?"

 Doma looked up from the floor. "Who's that?"

 Pimri opened the door wider and turned back toward the room with a grin.

 "Splash boy," he said, eyes landing on Ardyn, "I think you've got a visitor."

 Mirae crossed her arms and looked past Pimri, her gaze settling on Ardyn.

 "Can I talk to you?"

 Ardyn blinked. He glanced at Doma, then Pimri, then back at her—clearly unsure what to do. Slowly, he got to his feet… still wearing one Galegear boot.

 "Can we talk somewhere else?" she asked. "Maybe take a walk?"

 She glanced down at his foot.

 "But maybe not while wearing that," she added. "You're about to step outside with one boot."

 Ardyn's eyes widened. "Oh—right."

 In a flurry of motion, he bent down and unstrapped the boot, tugging it off quickly. He slipped into a pair of regular boots by the bedside, nearly losing balance in the process.

 Ardyn was nearly at the door when Pimri called out, grinning,

 "Hey, Miss Ballerina—don't kill our lucky charm!"

 Mirae paused, one eyebrow lifting.

 "You want me to kill you first?"

 Pimri just grinned wider, unfazed. Doma chuckled beside him, shooting Ardyn a look full of quiet teasing as the door clicked shut behind them.

* * *

Morning wind curled with a soft chill as Ardyn and Mirae walked side by side, following the path as it twisted gently beneath them. 

 "So… what exactly did I do wrong?" Ardyn asked, a half-smile tugging at his mouth.

 "You're unpredictable, you know that?" Mirae replied.

 "Yes," he said with a shrug. "Most people who know me say the same."

 "From a lousy Splash Boy," Mirae said, her voice light but edged with curiosity, "to a Cirran… then the match-turner who won the game."

 "But seriously," Ardyn said, glancing over at her. "What can I do for you?"

 Mirae suddenly slowed her steps, eyes scanning their surroundings. Ardyn came to a halt beside her, his expression tightening to match hers.

 "Are you a Breather?" she asked quietly.

 Ardyn blinked. His brows drew together. "Brea—?"

 Before he could finish, Mirae stepped closer and gently pressed a hand over his mouth.

 Her almond-shaped eyes darted toward a pair of figures walking in the distance. Still far—but not far enough.

 "Let's talk somewhere more quiet," she whispered.

 They walked in silence for a while, following a narrow path that curved along the outer edge of the isle. Eventually, it opened to a cliffside—an overlook where the sky seemed to stretch forever.

 The wind there was strong, but not harsh. It curled around them in long, sweeping gusts—gentle, almost curious. A chest-high railing marked the edge, and beyond it, a sea of clouds rolled endlessly below, glowing faintly in the morning light.

 Mirae leaned over the railing, her eyes distant.

 "So…" she said at last, "you're not a Breather?"

 Ardyn shook his head. "Never heard of that before."

 "You whisper to winds?" she asked.

 He glanced sideways. "Are you going to judge me if I do?"

 "So you do?" she asked, turning toward him.

 "I haven't," he said, his voice quieter now, gaze drifting downward to the clouds. "Not since I was a kid."

 The wind lifted the ends of his hair as he added, "The wind took my parents."

 Mirae was silent. A few seconds passed before she spoke again, her voice softer than before.

 "I'm sorry to hear that."

 Ardyn gave a faint smile—not bitter, but distant. "But I did whisper to the wind during the game."

 "I think…" Mirae said, still watching him, "you're a Breather."

 Ardyn raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly is a Breather?"

 "Believers of the wind," she said, "like you did. But deeper than that."

 She looked at him more closely. "You want to know if you are one?"

 Ardyn was quiet for a beat, eyes on the clouds, "I think I'll pass."

 "Seriously?" Mirae blinked. "You just started whispering to the wind again and now you're backing out?"

 He smirked. "Maybe if Orriven wins tomorrow's game, I'll reconsider."

 "Huh!" she crossed her arms and turned to face him fully, one eyebrow rising. "So you think we're going to lose?"

 "Want to bet on it?" Ardyn said, a glint of challenge in his voice.

 "Gambling?" she replied dryly. "That doesn't sound like something someone who whispers to the wind would do."

 He shrugged. "Let's just say I'm agnostic, for now. Convert me."

 Mirae narrowed her eyes at him, but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "So if we win tomorrow, you'll actually think about it?"

 Ardyn extended his hand. "Deal?"

 She looked at it for a moment, then shook it firmly. "You're on, Splash Boy."