The Sky Isles of Lioaratheia

Ardyn blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the ship's side porthole. His limbs were stiff from sleep, and his thoughts sluggish, but the distant hum of the engines and the sway of the vessel beneath his bunk reminded him exactly where he was.

 It had been three days since they left Windmere. Three days since the only home he'd ever known faded into the clouds.

 He sat up and moved toward the nearest viewing bay, still rubbing sleep from his eyes—then paused. Far ahead, rising like carved monuments from the cloud sea, were three massive landmasses drifting in slow harmony.

 Caldrith Vale.

 The central isle loomed largest, its silhouette sharp and alive. Virellan, the heart of the Vale, buzzed with motion even from this distance. Towering structures—sleek spires of stone and metal—pierced the sky, stitched together by suspended skybridges and aerial lifts. Ardyn could already see the flow of smaller airships weaving in and out like birds around a cliffside. It was a city that never settled, never slept.

 To the right floated Corith, quieter but no less grand. Its layout was graceful—terraced with gleaming rooftops and open courtyards. He could just make out the shapes of domed halls and long academic buildings, their architecture more traditional, less aggressive than Virellan's.

 And to the far left, Thaldren. The forest isle. It sat heavier in the sky, shrouded in mist and silence, dense green canopy and tangled ridges. Mist curled along its edges, and no signs of settlement were immediately visible. Trees stretched high enough to catch the upper winds, and something about the isle's quiet stillness made it feel older—less touched, more sacred.

 A few hours later, their skyship finally docked at the main platform just outside Corith's transit ring. Wind-guided rails and gravity-defying pathways extended from the platform like branches, connecting to various districts of the isle. A sleek, open-air transport—gliding silently on curved runners and suspended by magnetic flow—waited nearby. It wasn't quite a bus, not quite a tram, but something in between.

 The Cirran team boarded with the rest of the arrivals, the vehicle humming as it pulled away from the dock and slipped into the flow of skyway traffic. Ardyn sat by the edge, watching as Corith's polished streets, layered terraces, and vine-wrapped archways passed by in a blur. Compared to Windmere's sunbaked roofs and workshop alleys, Corith looked like it had been painted with elegance and precision—stone walkways swept clean by ever-present breeze, buildings carved like art, and little glider birds trailing overhead.

 They arrived at Corith Inn, a multi-level structure built into a slope, with wide balconies overlooking the lower tier of the city. The walls were shaped in sweeping curves, adorned with soft-hued banners, and ringed by small gardens stirred gently by the wind.

 Lunch was already prepared in the inn's dining hall—steamed roots, seasoned graincakes, and chilled windfruit slices. Ardyn ate quickly, his appetite finally catching up with him after the day's travel. The others retreated to their rooms, most choosing rest or unpacking.

 But Ardyn couldn't sit still.

 He stepped out of the inn with his jacket slung lazily over one shoulder. The afternoon breeze ruffled his hair as he descended the gentle steps into Corith's lower promenade. The sky above was wide and pale, while below, the world opened up to stone bridges, elevated gardens, and spiraling roads that vanished between rooftops.

 He wasn't entirely sure where he was going. But after three days of confined travel and polite silence, he just wanted to walk. To get lost in the city—and maybe, find something interesting.

 Ardyn wandered deeper into the district, letting the gentle curves of the streets guide him. The city's quiet grace was nothing like the dust and clatter of Windmere. Stone walkways looped over gliding canals, and open courtyards spilled with soft greenery and wind sculptures that spun like dandelions caught in breeze.

 He turned a corner into a shaded plaza lined with hanging lanterns and paused by a canal that shimmered with soft blue light.

 Then he saw it.

 Up above—soaring across the sky like a drifting kite—was a creature unlike anything he'd ever seen. Winged, massive, but not mechanical. Its feathers shimmered like metal, long tail trailing sparks of color as it coasted between the isles. It let out a low, flute-like cry that echoed gently between the rooftops.

 Ardyn's mouth fell slightly open. "Whoa…"

 He stepped forward for a better look, eyes still fixed on the sky—and his foot caught the edge of the canal.

 "Ah—!"

 A sharp splash cracked through the peaceful plaza.

 Cold water slammed around him. He flailed up with a gasp, sputtering and soaked, arms flopping wildly as he scrambled back to the edge. Just as he clambered out, he slipped again—sending a second spray of canal water over the stone walkway.

 He froze when he heard a soft gasp—followed by a quiet, wet patter.

 Dripping and crouched awkwardly on the stones, Ardyn looked up.

 A girl stood a few paces away, mid-step, her coat now streaked with fresh droplets. She must've just turned the corner at the wrong moment—and caught the aftermath of his flailing escape.

 She looked around his age. Her long black hair shimmered with streaks of deep violet, crimson, and cobalt, now damp and sticking to her cheek. Her expression was unreadable at first—caught between shock and some very pointed judgment.

 "Seriously?" she said, flat as stone.

 Ardyn, still crouched like a startled frog, blinked up at her. "I—uh—saw a thing. With wings. Really big. Feathery."

 "So you dove into the canal to get a closer look?"

 "No! I mean—I was looking up. The ground betrayed me." Ardyn replied.

 She stared, unimpressed, then brushed water from her coat sleeve and stepped around him.

 "Thanks for the shower, Splash Boy," she muttered.

 Ardyn flinched. "Not my proudest moment…"

 But she was already walking off, boots tapping briskly on the stone path, leaving a very wet and very embarrassed Ardyn behind.

 Later that day, the plaza had grown livelier—market stalls opened, aromas drifted from food carts, and voices rose in chatter. Ardyn's stomach had been growling for the better part of an hour, and after wandering through side streets–and definitely getting lost twice, he finally spotted a row of food vendors near a shady square.

 A long line stretched from the busiest stall—some kind of crispy, wind-roasted wrap with spiced greens and thin-sliced meat. Ardyn weaved his way past the crowd, eyes locked on the skewers sizzling above a slow fan of heat.

 Just as he stepped into what looked like a gap in the line—

 "You again?"

 Ardyn flinches and turns slowly.

 Standing just behind him—dripping no longer, but looking no less annoyed—was the same girl from the canal.

 "Of all the food lines…" she crossed her arms. "Splash Boy shows up to cut mine."

 Ardyn raises his hands. "Wait—I didn't mean to cut! I thought this was the back."

 "You also thought canals were sidewalks." she said.

 The vendor called out, "Next!"

 Ardyn hesitates, then steps aside. "After you…"

 The girl walked past him—no gloating, just a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was sinking fast when Ardyn realized—he had no idea how to get back to the Corith Inn.

 "You're lost, aren't you?" came a dry voice behind him.

 Ardyn turned—and blinked.

 There she was. The girl from earlier. Pastry in one hand, the other adjusting a bag slung over her shoulder. Her hair caught the light—dark, but streaked with vivid colors that shimmered like sunset on water.

 "Oh… hey," Ardyn said, trying not to look too guilty. "Yeah. Maybe. Kinda?"

 "Definitely," she said, already walking past him.

 He jogged a few steps to catch up.

 "Okay but seriously—which way is the Corith Inn?"

 She slowed, gave him a long look—half amused, half tired. Then she let out a short breath and pointed downhill.

 "Past the glider fountain, left at the bakery with the cloud-shaped bread. It's tucked beside a lift-station. Big sloped roof."

 "Thanks," Ardyn said, genuinely grateful. "Really. I've been looping around for an hour."

 She turned back to the road and walked.

 "Then I guess I saved your life."

 Ardyn hesitated, then fell into step beside her.

 "You're headed that way too?"

 "Unfortunately," she muttered.

 They walked in silence for a beat.

 "Hey," Ardyn said, glancing sideways, "about earlier—splashing you. Sorry. Truly."

 She didn't look at him.

 "I never caught your name," Ardyn said.

 "I never gave it," she replied.

 "Right. Cool. Great," he said.

 She walked ahead a few steps.

 "It's Mirae," she said, without turning.

 "Ardyn."

 "Figures," she said.

 He blinked. "Figures?"

 "You just look like an Ardyn."

 She gave him a sideways glance.

 "You know—slightly lost. Constantly apologizing."

 "Harsh. But… accurate," Ardyn admitted.

 They reached the inn—wind-polished stone, soft-lit archways, and banners fluttering along the rails.

 "Thanks again," Ardyn said, slowing as she stepped toward the stairs.

 "Try not to fall into anything, Splash Boy," Mirae said, starting up.

 She vanished through the front doors.

 Ardyn stood there for a moment—tired, unsure what just happened—before smiling faintly.

 "Splash Boy… seriously?"