The Sky Isles of Lioaratheia

"Looks like you really gained some recognition after the game, Ardyn," Ava said as they settled onto the viewing platform—a special ledge jutting over the arena with a clear, unobstructed view of the skyfield below. Usually reserved for officials, sponsors, and game participants.

 "Yeah," Sedge added, nudging Ardyn with his shoulder. "Even without wearing the Cirran uniform, people were already pointing you out."

 "And it's not just the crowd," Pimri said from behind them, voice muffled as he popped a crisped root chip into his mouth. He and Doma had claimed the back row, a shared pouch of snacks balanced between their laps.

 "What do you mean?" Sedge asked, glancing over his shoulder.

 Pimri jerked his chin in the direction of the Orriven side's player platform. A smooth, almost lazy motion—but unmistakable. The rest of the team followed his gaze.

 "Mirae Rinaka came to our room yesterday," Pimri added casually. "Asked for Ardyn by name."

 Ava and Sedge both turned to stare at Ardyn.

 Ardyn stared ahead like he hadn't heard, but the stiff way he scratched his cheek said otherwise.

 "So… what was that about?" Sedge asked, elbowing him again—harder this time.

 "He won't tell you," Doma cut in before Ardyn could speak. "We already tried to pry it out of him last night."

 Ardyn twisted around to face Pimri and Doma. "Told you—it's nothing serious."

 "Then why won't you say what it was?" Ava said, arching a brow.

 "Just make sure you're not selling out our team," Kael muttered from beside her, sitting cross-legged with his arms resting on his knees. "I'll kill you."

 Ardyn gave him a flat look, unsure if he was joking. Kael didn't blink.

 "No, Ardyn should tell us," Ava insisted. She leaned forward, placing her chin on her hand as she stretched toward him—her face inches from his. "You two dating or something?"

 The grin playing on her lips said she already knew the answer—or was hoping to catch him flinch.

 "No!" Ardyn's eyes widened. "Not even close. She… uhmm…"

 A deep, vibrating hum rolled through the arena—low at first, then rising, like thunder caught in a bottle. The lights dimmed overhead, casting the field into shadow as the sky itself seemed to hold its breath.

 The crowd erupted, cheers crashing like waves around them.

 "Welcome, Skyfolks!" the announcer's voice boomed across the arena, carried by gust-enhanced speakers that made the very platform tremble.

 "We'll talk later!" Ava shouted over the noise, flashing a mischievous grin as she settled back in her seat, eyes already tracking the starting zone.

 Ardyn scratched the back of his head, trying to play it cool.

 The announcer's voice rang through the arena, sharp and energized.

 "Representing Draymoor—"

 A chorus of cheers erupted as spotlights swept across the arena's open air. One by one, the massive screen above the arena flashed close-ups of Draymoor's lineup—each player striking a pose or saluting as their name was called. The crowd's reactions surged and dipped like rolling wind currents, loyal fans roaring for their isle.

 Then the tone shifted.

 "And now, representing Orriven—"

 The lights dimmed briefly, only to burst into motion again, this time with a cooler hue—crisp green and silvers sweeping over the arena. As each Orriven player was introduced, the screen followed them—but when Mirae stepped into view, the camera lingered.

 The projection zoomed in on her face, wind tousling the strands of dark hair that had slipped free from her headgear. Her expression was calm, composed—until a small smirk flickered as the cheers swelled louder.

 Ava, still resting her chin on her hand, leaned a little closer toward Ardyn. Her voice cut just above the roar of the crowd, meant only for him.

 "Mirae is really beautiful."

 Ardyn let out a slow breath and dropped his forehead into his palm, fingers dragging through his hair like the very thought gave him a headache.

 "Let the Skytest begin!" the announcer boomed, and the skyfield lit up in dazzling pulses of color as the match began in a streak of wind and motion.

 A sharp sound split the air.

 The Hovergem—small, glowing, and pulsing with a rhythmic hum—launched into the center of the skyfield, trailing light as it arced high above the arena.

 In an instant, both teams burst forward.

 Streams of wind burst from their Galegear, forming streaks of motion across the open sky as Orriven and Draymoor surged toward the gem. The field lit with streaks of blue, tracing the chaotic paths of the players weaving through floating debris and drifting platforms.

 Mirae moved like a flash of emerald through the air.

 She cut through the wind with a kind of practiced fluidity—arms tucked, then extended; her body bending midair with the precision of a dancer. Her flight wasn't just fast—it was beautiful. Each movement carried intention, her form coiling and stretching with a grace that made her seem almost weightless as she spiraled through a cluster of sky-scrap.

 While others braked or dodged, Mirae threaded between.

 She reached the Hovergem first, snatching it clean from the air with a twist of her wrist. No hesitation. In the same motion, she spun and slung it upward in a tight, arcing pass toward a figure streaking high overhead.

 Toren Rinaka—her younger brother—caught the gem mid-flight, his Galegear flaring as he adjusted to its weight.

 The match surged forward from there, fast, brutal, and relentless—stretching on for over an hour.

 Draymoor held strong with a tight, almost stubborn defense. Their formation was solid, their coordination sharper than expected. For a while, it looked like Orriven would be stalled out completely.

 But speed chipped away at discipline.

 Orriven moved like wind given form—fluid, uncatchable. Every dive, every pass, every pivot through debris broke Draymoor's rhythm a little more. Mirae led the charge, weaving through gaps that shouldn't have existed, forcing openings where none were given.

 In the end, Orriven claimed victory. Five against three.

 Mirae scored the most—three of those points sealed in the final stretch, each one quicker and cleaner than the last.

 On the Orriven platform, their team clapped each other on the backs, trading fist bumps and laughter as the final score pulsed across the arena. Victory was theirs.

 After a few moments, Mirae turned from the others and walked toward the edge of the platform. One hand lifted to shield her eyes from the glare of the overhead spotlights, her gaze sweeping across the sea of faces.

 Then she stopped.

 Her focus locked onto Windmere's viewing ledge.

 A slow smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She raised her hand—fingers together, palm down—and drew it in a clean, deliberate line across her throat.

 The crowd caught it immediately.

 Shouts erupted from the nearby sections, cheers rising in waves. Some fans who recognized the gesture pointed toward Windmere, laughing, jeering, or echoing Mirae's motion with exaggerated flair.

 She turned back to her team a second later, still grinning.

 "Your girlfriend really knows how to entertain the crowd," Ava said as she stood, brushing off her coat and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

 The Windmere team exited from their viewing ledge and spent a few minutes in the Upper Hall, a space reserved for team captains, officials, and high-ranking guests. Captain Seris lingered to speak with a few event coordinators, while the rest of the team waited near the arched exit.

 About half an hour later, they stepped out through the main gates of the arena, into the cooling evening air, heading toward the open-air transport dock.

 "Hey, Splash Boy!"

 The voice rang out just as Ardyn climbed aboard. The Windmere team turned to see Mirae jogging up with her younger brother, Toren, in tow.

 "Remember, we had a deal," she called, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Same spot tomorrow. Five in the afternoon. Don't make me wait!"

 She turned without waiting for a reply, tapping Toren's shoulder as they disappeared into the crowd.

 For a second, the Windmere team stood in stunned silence.

 Then Pimri gave a long, theatrical whistle.

 Doma leaned back with a hand over his chest. "Five in the afternoon?" he gasped. "Is that... a date?"

 Ava twirled an imaginary lock of hair and pitched her voice high. "Don't make me wait, Splash Boy," she mimicked, then burst out laughing.

 Even Roe joined in, grinning. "Should we come along to chaperone, or just send flowers?"

 Ardyn let out a helpless sigh, climbing onto the transport as the chorus of teasing followed him.

 "It's not a date!" Ardyn snapped—louder than he meant to.

 That only made them laugh harder.

* * *

The next day, just before sunset, Ardyn made his way back to the overlook near the edge of the isle—the same spot where he and Mirae had spoken. The wind was calmer now, gliding over the cliffside in long, quiet waves. Pale clouds drifted below like a slow-moving sea, glowing faintly in the warm afternoon light.

 Mirae was already there, leaning against the railing with her arms crossed, her back half-turned toward him.

 "Didn't I tell you not to make me wait?" she said without looking, then glanced at her watch. "You're eight minutes late."

 "Sorry," Ardyn replied, approaching with a sheepish look. "I had a hard time getting out of the inn."

 "Why?" she asked, cocking her head with mild curiosity.

 Ardyn let out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you know the team actually thinks we're dating?"

 Mirae laughed—an unguarded, amused sound that caught the wind and carried lightly through the air.

 "And what did you tell them?" she asked, turning fully to face him now, one brow lifted.

 "That's the problem..." Ardyn said with a shrug. "This whole Breather thing feels so secretive, I didn't even know what I was allowed to say."

 "Oh no," she said, smirking. "You mean to tell me you couldn't even come up with a decent excuse?"

 "Sorry," Ardyn replied, raising his hands in surrender. "I'm not a very good liar."

 Mirae tilted her head, a sly glint in her half-lidded eyes. With the way her almond-shaped gaze narrowed, her irises nearly vanished beneath her lashes—not in annoyance, but with quiet curiosity.

 "But you don't want them thinking we're dating?"

 Ardyn blinked. "Yes, I don't—I mean, no—wait—"

 Mirae raised an eyebrow and looked at him more directly, arms folded across her chest, saying nothing.

 Ardyn met her gaze, then quickly looked away—left, then right—as if scanning for an escape route. The silence stretched just long enough to make him squirm, Mirae's expression unreadable.

 Then she laughed—bright and full—as the tension broke in a burst of amusement. "Relax, Splash Boy. Just messing with you."

 Mirae's laughter faded into the wind, and for a few moments, they just stood there—side by side at the cliff's edge, the world quiet except for the soft rush of air around them.

 Then her voice dropped, gentler this time.

 "When I was a child," Mirae said quietly, her gaze drifting out toward the clouds, "I used to whisper to the winds. And… for some reason, I felt like it whispered back."

 She let out a short breath, almost like a laugh. "I'm not sure if it was real or just my imagination."

 There was a pause before she continued, voice lower.

 "Just like you, I stopped believing as I got older."

 She shifted slightly, but her expression had softened. "Then, about four years ago, I stumbled on a book. It talked about certain people—very rare—who are sensitive to the wind. People who whisper to it. Like what you said you did, when you were young."

 She looked at Ardyn now.

 "But even rarer than those… are people who can actually feel it, see it, manipulate it. They're called Breathers."

 Ardyn's posture changed. He pushed off the railing, turning slightly to face her, his expression sharpening—not with alarm, but interest.

 Mirae noticed, but didn't comment. She went on.

 "I got curious. I started reading everything I could, asking quiet questions, chasing rumors. And… I don't know if you'll believe me, but after a while, I started feeling something. It was like the wind began… guiding me. I could sense where it would move next—how to ride it, how to cut through it better. It changed how I fought as a Cirran."

 She looked down for a second, as if weighing whether to keep going.

 "Then, four months ago, I found a very old book. It was labeled as myth. Buried in the back of an archive." She looked at Ardyn again. "It talked about The Four Breathers. And how they're the key to calming the winds beneath the clouds."

 "That's a very interesting story," Ardyn said, watching her carefully. "But why are you being so secretive about it?"

 Mirae glanced to the side, her expression tightening. "The book I mentioned? When I went back to find it—it was gone. Not misplaced. Removed."

 "Removed?"

 "I later learned it had been confiscated by the High Cirrus Council. Labeled forbidden material."

 Ardyn's brow furrowed. "Seriously?"

 "I asked around—quietly—and found out the Council doesn't want any Cirrans even knowing about Breathers, much less believing in them."

 She looked at him now, eyes sharp. "If anyone on the Skytest Council finds out I've been researching this, I could be removed from the Orriven team. Or worse."

 Ardyn nodded slowly, his posture more upright now, the usual ease in his shoulders gone.

 Mirae took a step closer. "During your match against Caldrith Vale… you saw the wind, didn't you?"

 Ardyn hesitated. "…Yeah. I saw it move toward the Aether Storm Pocket. And then it just vanished."

 Her voice lowered. "Then I think you really are one."

 He gave her a sideways glance. "You really believe this Breather thing? What if everything we've experienced—what we felt—was just coincidence?"

 "That's why I asked if you wanted to know," she said. "Because I think I've found a way to confirm it."

 Ardyn turned to face her fully.

 "My research led me to something a few weeks ago," she continued. "There's an isle in the far south. Old, quiet, mostly uncharted. They say a Cirran lives there—someone who was once imprisoned for dangerous beliefs."

 "About the Breathers," Ardyn said.

 She nodded. "I want to find him."