The Sky Isles of Lioaratheia

The wind curled beneath his soles like a current waiting to be carved.

 Ardyn leaned into it, one foot sweeping forward, the other gliding in a smooth arc behind him. He spun into a tight turn, arms out, one knee bent, slicing a curved path through open air. No jolts. No stumbles. Just rhythm and motion—clean, weightless, alive.

 The helmet clung snug around his head, its visor catching gleams of sun with every tilt. Galegear boots flared blue as he shifted his weight, and the Galegear-elbow-plates adjusted with each shift in balance, responding like extensions of his body. What had felt foreign three days ago now felt fused to his instincts.

 Below and around him, the vast bowl of the Skyrink Arena echoed with the soft whoosh of flight lines.

 It had been three days since his first lift—since Pimri and Doma had launched him off that ledge and into the open blue. Today, it was different.

 Today, he trained under the eye of Captain Seris Danh.

 "You're doing great, Ardyn!" Seris called from above, his tone warm but edged with calculation. He hovered just beyond the turn of Ardyn's last arc, arms folded as he drifted in place, his own Galegear humming with restraint. His cropped silver-streaked hair was ruffled by the wind, and his stance was relaxed—but his eyes followed every motion with sharp precision.

 He wasn't just watching. He was measuring him.

 And Ardyn? He wasn't just flying anymore.

 He was beginning to move like he belonged up here.

 Captain Seris pulled the slender whistle hanging from a braided cord around his neck and brought it to his lips. A sharp trill cut through the open air, clean and commanding.

 "Let's take a break!" he called, already veering toward the side benches that clung to the edge of the arena's inner wall. He coasted down in a smooth descent, boots flaring briefly as they adjusted to a slow hover before touching down.

 Ardyn adjusted his momentum with a quick tilt of his body, angling toward him. He dipped through the air in a wide sweep and landed moments later beside the captain, boots hissing faintly as their thrusters powered down. His chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm, but there was a grin tugging at the edge of his face.

 "I think you're ready to practice with the team," Captain Seris remarked as he handed a bottle of water to Ardyn.

 Ardyn accepted it with a nod, brushing a few strands of damp hair away from his brow as he pulled off his helmet.

 "Not that confident yet, Captain," he said, smiling wryly as he caught his breath. "But if you think so…"

 Seris gave a chuckle. "Confidence catches up with control. You've got the second part down already."

 Ardyn took a sip, then stared out across the open stretch of the Skyrink Arena, where training flags fluttered in the wind and glints of sunlight danced on the polished air-plates. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned back to the captain.

 "I've been thinking about this the last few days…" He set his helmet down beside him. "Aethermenders can heal, right?"

 "Yes," Seris replied with a short nod.

 "Then… why can't Ava just heal Roe's arm?"

 Seris tilted his head slightly, considering. "She did," he said.

 Ardyn blinked and let out a small "Oh,"—but his eyes stayed questioning.

 "You remember the day you rescued him?" Seris continued, shifting his elbows to rest on his knees. "The med-team took Roe straight from your mechanic shop. Ava was with them."

 Ardyn listened closely as the captain went on.

 "She did heal him—enough so he could move easily. But I don't think you fully understand how Aethermending works. It's… temporary. Think of it as a kind of accelerated first aid. It can close wounds, patch up bruises—even re-knit a broken bone. But it only lasts a few hours. After that, the damage comes back."

 "Like the body forgets it was ever fixed," Ardyn murmured, frowning slightly.

 "Exactly. Aethermending gives you time," Seris said. "Enough to get through a match, or survive long enough to reach a real surgeon. But it's not a cure. That's why we still need proper medical care."

 "I see…" Ardyn said, falling quiet for a moment as he tried to take it all in. "So in the game, Aethermenders are vital. But after the game, Cirrans still need real doctors."

 "Right," Seris confirmed with a tap of his finger against his bottle. "And Ava's one of the best Aethermenders I've seen. But there are some from other Isles whose healing lasts much longer—sometimes even a few extra hours. And not just that, they could also boost energy."

 "Wow," Ardyn remarked, his eyes wide with interest.

 "I read in one of the books in my room that the Skytest goes way back—since the last Sky War?" he asked.

 Captain Seris gave a short nod. "Uh-huh. Did you get to the history part?"

 Ardyn scratched his head. "Was it the Spiral Pact? I know the name, but not the full story."

 "Right," Seris said. "The Spiral Pact created the Skytest as a way to end the constant warring between isles. Instead of battles, they turned to something structured—ritualized duels, sanctioned by all the isles. That became the Skytest."

 "It happens every two years," he continued. "Each isle sends a team to compete. The competition isn't just for glory—the winning isle gets a full year of access to Aerion."

 "Aerion… that's the biggest isle, isn't it?" Ardyn asked.

 "Yes, and the most resource-rich. It's where the rarest Aeroliths are found."

 Seris' tone shifted, a note of gravity slipping into his voice.

 "And sadly… Windmere has never won."

 Captain Seris gave a small exhale, the weight of Windmere's history flickering in his eyes. But then he blinked it away, straightened his shoulders, and gave Ardyn a firm smile.

 "But let's have high hopes for this year's Skytest," he said, brushing off the heaviness in his tone.

 He clapped a hand lightly on Ardyn's shoulder. "Come on, let's get back to training."

* * *

Wind howled gently over Veltridge Field, the second-largest isle in Windmere's territory. Once known for its towering, half-crumbled windmills and long-stemmed grass, it now served as a sprawling training ground for Windmere's Cirran hopefuls. The old mills still stood—creaking monuments to an earlier age—casting long, rotating shadows over a patchwork of natural ridges and floating stone platforms that dotted the terrain.

 At the far edge of the field, perched near a cliff overlook, Captain Seris Danh stood with his arms crossed, watching the team gather. Beside him was Roe, the former Skyrunner turned mentor.

 Kael, the team's prodigy striker, was already suited up, tapping the soles of his Galegear boots with a quiet rhythm. Sedge, just a few paces away, rolled one shoulder and gave a sideways glance toward Ardyn, who tightened the straps on his elbow gear without meeting his gaze. Nearby, Doma and Pimri moved with an easy, familiar rhythm, trading light jabs and chuckles as they adjusted the straps on their Galegear. Ava, quiet but focused, adjusted her Aethermender harness and checked the delicate, stone-glowing dial on her wrist. With them were several Cirran staff members—engineers, Aerolith calibrators, and medics—each vital to the team's day-to-day function.

 "Okay, Cirrans, listen up," Captain Seris called out, his voice cutting through the breeze as the team gathered around.

 "You're split into three teams for this training. Kael and Ava—Team One. Doma and Pimri—Team Two. Sedge and Ardyn—Team Three."

 At the mention of his pairing, Sedge's jaw tightened slightly. He didn't say anything, but the slight crease between his brows and the glance he shot Ardyn made his dismay clear enough.

 Captain Seris held out his hand, and a green Aerolith floated up from his palm—glowing softly, pulsing with familiar energy. The Hovergem spun lazily in the air, catching the attention of every Cirran on the field.

 "You know the drill," Seris said. "One of you carries the gem—just one. Your team has to make it to the marker near the ridge and then back here to the starting point. First team to return with the Hovergem wins."

 He let the Aerolith drift up slightly, letting it spin once midair. "Just remember—this isn't a leisure cruise. You're free to intercept or delay each other however you want, as long as you don't seriously injure anyone."

 A spark of excitement flickered in Kael's eyes. Doma cracked his knuckles. Ardyn just exhaled slowly, side-eyeing Sedge, who still hadn't said a word.

 Captain Seris raised his hand high, the hovergem glinting in his palm like bottled lightning. A hush fell over the windmill field as the six Cirrans crouched into ready stances, muscles taut, eyes locked on the stone.

 "On my mark," Seris called out, his voice slicing through the breeze.

 "Three... two... one—!"

 With a sharp flick of his arm, he hurled the Hovergem skyward.

 For a heartbeat, the world held still as the glowing stone arced high, catching the sunlight. Then—

 Boom.

 A burst of wind and motion erupted all at once. Kael, Sedge, and Ardyn launched upward in unison, boots flaring with Aerolith glow, trailing streaks of windlight behind them. Kael and Sedge soared nearly toe-to-toe, each cutting through the air with sharp precision—but Ardyn lagged just a second behind, thrown by the sheer force of the others' takeoff.

 For a flicker of a moment, both Kael and Sedge glanced sideways—just enough to register something strange.

 Where was Pimri?

 Kael was the first to reach the apex, his hand snapping up around the Hovergem, just inches ahead of Sedge's outstretched fingers. Without missing a beat, Kael twisted midair and hurled the gem downward in a clean, practiced arc.

 Below, Ava was already gliding away from the starting line with graceful momentum, her eyes tracking the descending gem.

 But just before it touched her hands, a sudden gust surged past her—faster than expected, wild and controlled. A blur of motion intercepted the Hovergem midair with perfect timing. Pimri.

 He spun once in flight, stone in hand, grinning as the momentum of his delayed launch slingshotted him ahead of them all.

 They all burst forward, wind trailing from their boots and elbows, streaks of Aerolith light carving through the sky. Some shot higher into the air, arcing like comets above the field; others skimmed just feet above the ground, weaving between tufts of grass and low rock ridges. The sky and earth blurred into a battlefield of motion and angles.

 At the front, Pimri blazed ahead with the Hovergem clutched tightly in his hand, his route unpredictable, dipping and rising like a windborne trickster. Just behind him, Ava surged forward in clean, measured bursts—faster than usual, her eyes fixed sharp on the gem in his grip.

 Doma followed close behind, gaining fast. He hadn't launched with the others when the gem was tossed—that had been the plan. He and Pimri had baited the others into reacting first, saving their burst for the chase.

 Not far behind, Kael and Sedge raced side by side. Their paths occasionally crisscrossed as they closed the gap with powerful bursts, rapidly gaining ground on Doma.

 And trailing them all, Ardyn pushed hard, breath steady, arms angled slightly behind him as he cut through the wind. He was slower—but steady, adapting, closing in with every second.

 "Hey, newbie! Catch up or I'll win this game alone!" Sedge barked over his shoulder, his voice half a taunt, half a challenge.

 He and Kael kicked into a new gear, slicing through the air with synchronized bursts. In a blur, they surged past Doma and Ava, their eyes locked on the one target ahead—Pimri.

 Closing in fast, the two strikers flanked him, one on each side, wind roaring at their backs. With a burst from their Galegear boots, they surged again, both angling to slam shoulder-first into Pimri and knock him off course.

 But Pimri wasn't new to this. Feeling the pressure closing in, he twisted mid-air with a sharp, fluid spin, momentum carrying him into a controlled flip. As he arced backward, he flung the Hovergem over his shoulder—straight toward Doma hurtling up the center lane.

 But the throw cost him. The moment the Hovergem left his hand, Kael clipped him with a sharp shoulder bump—just enough to throw his balance off. Pimri spun out, unable to recover, and dropped hard onto the grassy field below with a grunt, his landing cushioned more by weeds than grace.

 Doma surged forward the instant the Hovergem left Pimri's hand, catching it clean in one palm without breaking stride. His larger frame cut through the air like a battering ram, and he aimed straight for the two strikers still regaining their spacing.

 Kael and Sedge braced—too late.

 With a powerful drive from his Galegear boots, Doma slammed through the gap between them, his shoulder grazing Kael and hip-checking Sedge. The impact tossed both strikers to the side, wings tilting, balance jolted.

 But they were seasoned fliers.

 Kael twisted midair, flipping into a tight spiral before flattening out and realigning his trajectory. Sedge kicked off the air hard, skimming low before pulling up into a chasing arc behind Doma.

 The Windguard was fast—fast for his size—but the strikers were already gaining ground, Galegears roaring behind him as they gave chase.

 Behind the speeding group, a sudden burst of wind signaled Pimri launching back into the air, angling to rejoin the chase and assist Doma. His focus was locked ahead—on the pack, on the Hovergem, on the field slicing by beneath them.

 He didn't notice Ardyn.

 From below, Ardyn rose fast and sharp, cutting through the air with surprising precision. He angled upward like a diving hawk, eyes fixed on Pimri.

 In a smooth, desperate move, Ardyn reached for Pimri's right boot and slammed his palm against the release latch. With a mechanical snap, the Galegear disengaged mid-flight.

 "What—!" Pimri gasped as the sudden imbalance caught him off guard. He flailed, trying to stabilize, but the loss of thrust sent him spinning. With a frustrated grunt, he crashed back down onto the grassy terrain.

 "Sorry!" Ardyn called out behind him, already surging past, guilt flashing across his face—but not enough to stop.

 Back at the starting ridge, a small cluster of figures tracked the action through long-range binoculars. Captain Seris peered through his own, sharp-eyed and focused. Beside him, Roe chuckled, adjusting his stance and refocusing his lenses. Around them, several Cirran staff—engineers and medics—murmured and pointed, following the fast-paced shifts overhead.

 "That's a nice trick!" Roe said with a laugh, spotting the sudden drop of one competitor.

 "That could actually work in a real match," Captain Seris commented, keeping his gaze trained on Ardyn. "Fast thinking from him."

 "And I think we just lost one player," Roe added, shifting his view to Pimri—now a distant figure in the tall grass, one leg awkwardly grounded as he searched for the detached Galegear module.