The Sky Isles of Lioaratheia

Morning wind tugged at their sleeves as the Windmere team jogged along the upper ridge path, their shoes thudding lightly against stone and plank. The sun was still low—just brushing the edge of the eastern cliffs.

 "Next time," Doma huffed, dragging his large body behind the group, "we stretch after breakfast, not before it."

 The team laughed at Doma's comment—Sedge even gave him a mock salute—but not Ardyn, who jogged in silence near the back. The wind at this hour was soft—barely a breeze—but it still curled around his face like it knew something he didn't.

 "Then I think you really are one."

 He shook the words away just as a shout snapped through the air.

 "Hey, lover boy! Are you with us or floating in Mirae-land?" Ava's voice rang from ahead, hands cupped around her mouth.

 Ardyn blinked and looked up—only to realize even Doma had passed him. He was trailing behind the team, lost in his own head.

 "Sorry," he muttered, picking up the pace. "Just… focused."

 "Oh yeah?" Sedge smirked over his shoulder. "You looked real focused on your shoelaces back there."

 Pimri gave a low whistle. "That far-off look? That's the gaze of a man reliving a romantic cliffside confession."

 "Definitely sounded like a date," Ava said, jogging sideways to keep facing him. "Maybe you'll get a farewell kiss after the match—win or lose."

 Ardyn groaned. "Can we not do this right before a game?"

 "Too late," Kael said flatly. "You're already doomed."

 As they rounded a bend, the path opened onto a wide overlook where a massive holo-screen hovered between twin wind towers. It flickered to life just as the team approached, blue light spilling across the stone and catching the attention of nearby bystanders.

 Market vendors paused mid-setup. A pair of young mechanics leaned out from a balcony overhead. A small cluster of early risers—some in pilot coats, others in academy uniforms—turned to watch as the Cirrus Council seal spun slowly into view.

 The team instinctively slowed.

 A voice echoed from built-in gustspeakers, crisp and formal:

 "Attention, skyfolks across the isles. The final round of Skytest preliminaries will not take place in the Sky Arena."

 The image shifted to an overhead scan of a vast forest isle, its canopy thick and swaying beneath slow-moving cloud cover.

 "This match will be held in the wild terrain of Thaldren. Though the match will be closed to the public, it will be broadcast live to the Sky Arena."

 A soft murmur spread through the onlookers.

 "You know about this, Captain?" Kael asked, eyes still on the screen.

 "Yes," Seris replied with a grin. "I was told after the Orriven-Draymoor match."

 He turned slightly, hands behind his back.

 "I purposely proposed this jog around this time. Figured you'd want to see the announcement with your own eyes."

 "Why didn't you tell us?" Pimri asked, a bit breathless.

 "I figured the Council's version would sound more dramatic than mine."

 "Did they say what kind of match it'll be?" Sedge asked.

 Seris shook his head. "No. But I'll bet it'll be harder than anything you've seen in the early matchups. So let's keep stretching those legs!"

 Without waiting, he took off down the path again.

 "And no breakfast," he called over his shoulder, "for the one who comes in last!"

 There was a half-beat of stunned silence.

 Then the team broke into a sprint.

* * *

The next morning, the Skyferry cut smoothly through the upper winds, its sleek, silver hull glinting under the rising sun. Commissioned by the Skytest Council, it was built for official travel.

 Inside, the Windmere team sat in a designated cabin lined with fixed seating and ceiling straps. A clear partition divided the space from the opposing team's compartment. The glasslike panel was soundproof, tinted just enough to blur faces, but not presence. Across the divide, the shapes of Orriven's team could be seen—still, composed, and unreadable.

 Farther toward the front, a separate section housed the facilitators—Skytest officials traveling with them. From behind another sealed door, the occasional flicker of holo-maps and shifting lights hinted at pre-match coordination.

 Ahead, Thaldren was beginning to rise through the clouds.

 "Do not hold back, Ardyn," Captain Seris said quietly. The two of them sat side by side near the front, facing forward while the rest of the team settled behind them.

 Ardyn glanced over, saying nothing—trying to read what the captain really meant.

 Seris gave a brief look toward the glass panel, where the faint silhouettes of Orriven's team sat beyond the divider.

 "Whatever connection you have with Mirae," he said, voice steady and without a trace of teasing, "leave it outside the match. Right now, she's your opponent."

 Ardyn didn't respond right away, but the words sank in. Even Pimri and Doma—seated just behind—must have overheard, yet neither of them said a word.

 "Mirae's a natural fighter," Seris added. "I think she'll do the same. You'll be her opponent now… and a friend again later."

 A small smile tugged at the corner of Ardyn's mouth. He nodded once. "I understand."

 Below, the dark green canopy of Thaldren unfurled like a sea of leaves, stretching far in every direction. The Skyferry began to descend, stabilizers adjusting as it leveled onto a cleared plateau nestled just above the forest line.

 From inside, they could see a wide open landing zone—flattened stone and soil, ringed by natural outcroppings and trimmed foliage. As the hatch doors slid open, cool air rushed in.

 One by one, the teams stepped out.

 Facilitators were already on site, standing near crates and control hubs. Broadcast drones hovered in quiet formation above the clearing, scanning the area with soft pulses of light.

 Windmere and Orriven gathered in separate zones, each team checking gear and making final adjustments. Galegear compartments clicked open, gauntlets and boots inspected, straps pulled tight.

 One figure stepped forward from the facilitators—a man in a dark-trimmed coat marked with the Skytest insignia. He walked to the center of the clearing and raised a hand high.

 "Everyone on me!" he called, voice sharp and amplified just enough to cut through the wind.

 "Right now, a recorded clip is already playing in the Sky Arena—likely announcing what today's game will be."

 He turned slightly, gesturing toward the edges of the isle, where tall poles with faint red lights blinked in a steady rhythm.

 "The game will still include the Hovergem," he continued. "But this time, there are no goal rings. Prior to this match, this isle was prepared."

 Both teams followed his motion, eyes tracing the line of poles disappearing into the trees.

 "Each team will race around the isle, following the path marked by the poles. First team to complete a full circuit and return here with the Hovergem in hand wins."

 On the Windmere side, a few glances were exchanged—silent, but familiar. This was their exact training drill back in Windmere.

 "There are no rules beyond that," the facilitator said. "You're allowed to derail the opposing team. But this is still a preliminary match—no fatal attacks."

 He paused, scanning the two teams.

 "Be warned: the course includes active challenges. You'll need more than speed to win."

 He let that settle a moment, then asked, "Any questions before the Hovergem toss?"

 Neither team answered. The clearing stayed still.

 "If none," he said, lowering his hand, "you have five minutes to strategize. We go live after that."

 "You think we could use Pimri and Doma's strategy from training?" Sedge asked, loud enough for the Windmere team to hear.

 "That was a two-player setup," Captain Seris replied. "It won't work the same here. I'm sure Orriven will split roles too—someone going for the toss, others waiting for the pass."

 Sedge nodded, falling quiet as Seris rubbed his chin in thought.

 "We'll have Kael and Sedge take the toss," the captain said after a moment. "Everyone else, be ready. Whether we get the Hovergem or not—wait for the pass. If Orriven gets it first, track them. Intercept when you can."

 He looked around the group, voice steady. "Strategize as you go. Communicate. Support each other."

 He extended a hand toward the center.

 "Let's win this."

 One by one, the team placed their hands over his.

 Then came the sharp whistle from the facilitator.

 "Still remember them and their positions, as I told you?" Kael asked, walking beside Ardyn as they made their way toward the tossing ground.

 "Yes," Ardyn replied. "Only need to remember four. Keiren Vos, Skyrunner. Rellan Veyne, Striker. Brask Halden, Windguard. And Cairen Drest, Aethermender. Already knew Mirae and Toren Rinaka."

 Kael gave a single nod. "Good."

 Above them, a cluster of drones began to spread out, their lenses glowing faintly as they hovered into position. The soft whirring was unmistakable—they were live. Somewhere far above, crowds in the Sky Arena were already watching.

 At the center of the field, the Hovergem rested on a compact launch gear, its core glowing with a soft pulse of blue light.

 Windmere and Orriven formed a loose ring around it, each team spread evenly, eyes locked on the gem.

 A few seconds passed. The forest around them fell still.

 Then a sharp tone cracked the silence—followed by a sudden blast of air.

 The Hovergem launched high into the sky, trailing a streak of light as it climbed into open air.

 Kael and Sedge burst upward the moment the Hovergem launched, Galegear flaring as wind surged beneath their boots. But before they could reach the peak, a streak of emerald green sliced past them—faster, sharper.

 Mirae.

 She snatched the Hovergem midair with her right hand, her form seamless in motion. Windmere's formation shifted instantly, eyes tracking where she might pass—but she didn't.

 Instead, Mirae tucked and dove.

 She shot downward in a sharp drop, twisting just before impact. Her boots kissed the earth, momentum coiled tight—then she launched forward again, faster than before.

 Pimri veered to intercept, eyes narrowed.

 Mirae met his advance with a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. At the last second, she spun—using Pimri's own speed against him as she slipped past.

 Windmere gritted their teeth and pushed forward, wind trailing hard behind their Galegear as they tore through the forest edge. But before they could close the gap on Mirae, Orriven's other members fell into motion—cutting in fast, bodies angled to intercept.

 Rellan Veyne met Kael midair, shoulder to shoulder, slamming into him with a burst of speed. The impact threw Kael off-line, nearly spinning him into the upper branches before he corrected. Rellan didn't pause. He moved with a Striker's aggression—sharp angles, tight turns—harassing Kael at every pivot to keep him off Mirae's trail.

 Just behind them, Toren Rinaka matched Sedge's flight line, mirroring every attempt to break free. Unlike Rellan, Toren didn't go for brute force. He wove in and out, brushing just close enough to disrupt Sedge's wind lines, forcing him to waste precious bursts of energy with each adjustment.

 Brask Halden collided directly with Doma. It was like two boulders meeting in midair—raw, heavy force. Brask used his bulk to body Doma sideways, pinning him against a thick branch before Doma shoved him off with a grunt. But Brask stayed on him, absorbing hits like armor, determined to stall Windmere's tank.

 High above, Keiren Vos flanked Pimri with cold precision. He didn't try to overpower—he ghosted beside him, slipping into his path just before each acceleration. Pimri tried to gain altitude, then cut low, but Keiren adjusted seamlessly, each move a quiet wall, forcing Pimri to bleed speed with every dodge.

 At the rear, Cairen Drest drifted near Ardyn—not fast, not direct, but always in his path. Every time Ardyn shifted lanes, Cairen was already there, moving like a shadow. He didn't block with force—he blocked with prediction. It was subtle, but effective, and Ardyn felt the pressure rise.

 All the while, Mirae streaked ahead—untouched, unstoppable—confident her teammates would keep Windmere from gaining ground.

 But then, a wave of dizziness hit her. Her strength dipped sharply, like something was being pulled from within. Only then did she notice a glint of movement just beneath her—Ava, flying low and fast, eyes locked on her with a grin that pulsed with siphoning energy.

 Mirae faltered. Her balance gave out mid-flight, and she dropped hard toward the ground. She landed in a crouch, one hand braced against the earth, the other still gripping the Hovergem.

 Then she felt it—a sudden tug.

 The Hovergem was gone. Ava had snatched it mid-dive.

 A rush of wind walloped overhead—several figures streaking above Mirae in a blur. She blinked, teeth gritting, and kicked back into motion, regaining altitude. Wind flared beneath her boots as she twisted into a sharp ascent, veering toward the heart of the clash where both teams tangled midair.

 Torren was already closing in on Ava, his form narrow and fast. But just as he reached for her wrist, Ava flipped backward, tossing the Hovergem in a clean arc over her shoulder.

 Pimri, already anticipating, broke through Keiren's press and snatched the Hovergem mid-dive.

 A burst of pressure followed.

 Boom—a sudden blast of wind tore into Keiren's right foot, the force knocking him sideways. His body twisted mid-spin before he crashed into a patch of high grass on a nearby ledge.

 Pimri glanced back in time to see the smoke curling off Keiren's damaged boot thrusters—and just beyond, Kael lowering his gauntlet.

 "Nice shot, Kael!" Pimri called, his grin fierce. "One down!"

 "Here she comes!" Ardyn shouted, eyes locked on the streak of green slicing toward them.

 Pimri glanced back—just in time to see Mirae darting forward, boots kicking against the wind like it was solid ground. She twisted through the air with fluid precision, weaving between Windmere's defenses as if dancing mid-flight.

 She was almost on Pimri when Ava surged up from below, hand outstretched again, aiming for another siphon.

 "Not this time, girl," Mirae muttered, seizing Ava's extended arm midair. With a sharp pivot, she spun and hurled her sideways—straight into Pimri.

 The two collided in a burst of limbs and surprise. The Hovergem slipped from Pimri's grip, spinning freely.

 And just as it began to fall—Toren was there.

 He caught it clean, his momentum already turned down the track, as if he'd predicted his sister's every move.

 Windmere chased after the Rinaka siblings, who were already darting ahead, slipping into the dark mouth of a cave as they followed the glowing pole markers. Behind them, Ava and Pimri were still scrambling to their feet from the crash—stalling the Windmere team just long enough for the remaining Orriven members to surge past.

 One by one, the rest of Windmere and Orriven team entered the cave.

 It was dim inside—walls tight, the ceiling low. The only sources of light were the red glow from the tracking poles and the faint, hovering sparks that looked like fireflies—drones, trailing overhead.

 "Careful, everyone!" Kael called out, voice echoing through the narrow passage.

 Then—a loud thud, followed by a sharp cry.

 "Was that Doma?!" Ardyn shouted.

 "I think so," Sedge answered grimly. "His eyes don't do well in low light."

 "He must've hit something," Ardyn muttered.

 A drone hovered near the cave floor behind them, its light flashing in a pulsing red cross—signaling a possible injury.

 But there was no time to check. The team pressed on.

 Within minutes, they burst back into daylight, the cave opening out onto another ridge.

 "Ava and Pimri still haven't caught up," Sedge noted, glancing back.

 "We're down to three against five," Kael said, breath tight. "And the Rinakas are getting too far ahead."

 "Do you think the finish line is near?" Sedge asked.

 "No," Ardyn answered. "This isle is big—we're still far from it."

 "You think we can conserve our strength? Then dart ahead once they slow down from draining theirs?"

 "The question is," Kael chimed in, "do you think they'll slow down?"

 Kael and Sedge continued exchanging thoughts, trying to form a new strategy as they kept pace. Meanwhile, Ardyn drifted slightly apart, gaze focused, breath steadying.

 He closed his eyes—deep breath in… and out.

 When he opened them, he saw it again. A streak of wind—sharp, silvered—cutting across the air before him. The same phenomenon he'd seen during the Caldrith Vale match. It danced along the current, veering upward into the trees.

 Ardyn's eyes locked onto it. Whatever it was, he didn't hesitate.

 "Kael, Sedge—follow me!" he shouted.

 The two snapped out of their discussion, startled. Ardyn had already broken formation, soaring upward with purpose.

 Kael glanced at Sedge. The pause lasted only a heartbeat.

 "Let's go!" Kael said, and surged upward.

 Sedge groaned faintly but followed without hesitation.

 Ardyn pushed upward, following the streak of wind as it twisted above the tree line and into open sky. The current shimmered faintly in his vision—subtle, but there. Like a thread he could follow.

 Behind him, Kael and Sedge kept close, their Galegear pulsing with short, efficient bursts to match Ardyn's sudden ascent.

 Then they felt it.

 The wind changed.

 A current, high and sharp, caught beneath their boots—steady, strong, and fast. It pulled at them like a river in the sky, carrying them forward with half the effort. Ardyn leaned into it, eyes narrowing with focus.

 Sedge gave a low whistle. "You feel that?"

 Kael didn't answer, but his face said it all.

 Within moments, the forest below blurred, and ahead—just visible through the misty light—they could see them. The Orriven team. Still in motion, but no longer out of reach.

 They were closing in. Fast.