POV: Ravenna
Two days.
We spend two days hiding in the forest, recovering from our escape. Eating whatever Saren can catch. Treating wounds with what little supplies we salvaged. Sleeping in shifts because we're all terrified Stone's soldiers will find us again.
But they don't come. Either they lost our trail or decided we're not worth pursuing into Air Kingdom territory.
On the third morning, we continue north. And finally, FINALLY, we see it.
Skyreach.
I stop walking. Just STOP. Because I've never seen anything like this.
The city is built on floating stones.
Not metaphorically. Not held up by pillars or clever architecture. The stones literally FLOAT in the sky, held aloft by ancient air magic that makes the hair on my arms stand up even from this distance. Massive pillars of rock hover hundreds of feet above the ground, connected by delicate bridges that look like spiderwebs from here. Buildings are carved directly into the stone—pale grey structures with open archways and flowing designs. And between the floating islands, pale dragons soar. White and silver and translucent, riding wind currents invisible to everyone else.
It's beautiful.
Ethereal.
Completely unlike Cindravale's volcanic fortresses or Aetherwyn's coastal cities. This is a kingdom built for beings who live in the sky, who value freedom and philosophy and the open air above solid ground.
"Well," Morgana says beside me. "That's... unsettling."
"It's amazing," I breathe.
"It's going to be a nightmare if we need to escape quickly," Saren mutters. "How do you run from floating rocks?"
"You don't," Theron says quietly. "That's the point. Defensively, it's nearly perfect."
We continue forward, approaching the lower city built on actual ground at the base of the floating pillars. It's less impressive down here—standard buildings, standard streets, places for groundlings and visitors who can't fly between the upper islands.
We're met by Air Kingdom guards before we even reach the city gates.
They look nothing like Cindravale's warriors. Lean instead of broad. Quick instead of strong. Dressed in pale grey armor that seems more decorative than functional. But their eyes are sharp and assessing as they take in our group—three fire kingdom refugees and a water kingdom warrior, all looking battered and dangerous.
One guard steps forward. "State your business."
"We seek audience with the Seer Council," Saren says. He's taken point because he's the least threatening-looking of us. "We request sanctuary and knowledge."
The guards exchange glances. "You are from Cindravale?"
"And Aetherwyn," Saren gestures to himself. "We bring urgent news of—"
"Pyrstone's aggression," Theron interrupts smoothly. "And matters concerning rare gifts."
That gets their attention. Rare gifts are studied in Skyreach, where philosophy and knowledge are valued above warfare and conquest. The guards look at each other again.
"Wait here," one says, and disappears into the gatehouse.
We wait. For a LONG time. My feet hurt. My back aches. I'm hungry and tired and increasingly convinced this was a terrible idea.
Finally, the guard returns. "You may enter. But your weapons stay here."
Morgana's hand goes to her sword immediately. "Absolutely not."
"Then you don't enter." The guard is unmoved. "Skyreach law. No foreign weapons in the upper city."
"We're not going anywhere without—"
"Morgana." Theron's voice is quiet but firm. "We need sanctuary more than we need swords."
She looks mutinous. But after a long moment, she unbuckles her sword belt. I can see how much it costs her to hand over her weapon. Saren gives up his dual blades with only slightly less reluctance. Theron surrenders his sword and three hidden knives.
The guards look at me expectantly.
"I don't carry weapons," I say. Then smile sweetly. "I AM the weapon."
One guard actually flinches.
They let us through.
We're escorted into the lower city and then up—gods, UP. A winding staircase carved into the base of one of the floating pillars. We climb for what feels like forever. My legs are burning. My lungs screaming. How do these people DO this every day?
Then we reach the first bridge.
It's made of some kind of pale stone that looks too delicate to hold weight. But when I step onto it, it's solid. Stable. The bridge arcs through open air, connecting one floating island to another. No railings. Just open sky on either side.
I look down through the gaps between stones.
And immediately wish I hadn't.
The ground is SO FAR BELOW. Maybe five hundred feet? More? I can barely see people walking down there. They look like ants. If I fell—when I fell, my brain unhelpfully supplies—I'd have plenty of time to regret every choice that led to this moment before I went splat.
"Don't look down," Saren says, noticing my face going pale.
"Too late."
"Look at me instead."
I focus on his back as we cross. One foot in front of the other. Don't think about the drop. Don't think about the wind. Don't think about how there's nothing between me and certain death except my own questionable balance.
We cross three more bridges. I hate each one more than the last.
Finally, we reach a central island larger than the others. Buildings here are more ornate, carved with flowing script and decorative patterns. Wind chimes hang everywhere, creating constant music. The air feels different here—charged with magic, thin and cold, making me lightheaded.
The guards lead us to a massive chamber open to the sky. No roof. Just four walls and open air above. Wind rushes through constantly, tugging at my hair and clothes.
Five elderly nobles sit in a semicircle at the chamber's center. All with the pale skin and light hair typical of Air Kingdom bloodlines. All watching us with calm, assessing eyes.
The Seer Council.
"Welcome to Skyreach," the central figure says. An ancient woman with white hair bound in elaborate braids. "We are told you bring news of Pyrstone."
Theron steps forward. "Pyrstone has declared war on Cindravale. King Volcris seeks to conquer—"
"We know," another council member interrupts. An elderly man with silver-grey hair. "We have eyes. We watch." He pauses. "What we do not know is why Cindravale's princess arrives at our gates as a refugee, accompanied by a water kingdom warrior and looking like she ran from a battle."
Right. Because of COURSE they know who I am.
I step forward. Lift my chin. "Because Pyrstone's General Stone tried to kill us. We escaped through the mountain caves and—"
"And discovered something interesting, I suspect." A new voice. Familiar. Cold.
I turn.
And my blood runs cold.
Standing to one side of the council chamber, positioned as an advisor, is Lady Seris.
She smiles at me.
"Princess Ravenna," she says warmly, like we're old friends meeting for tea. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here. And looking so... weathered from your journey." Her pale blue-grey eyes find mine. "Welcome to Skyreach."
I can't breathe. Can't move. Can't do anything but stare at the woman who orchestrated my mother's assassination. Who sent The Shadow to kill me. Who hunts gift-bearers like animals.
And she's standing right there. Smiling like we're old friends.
Beside me, Theron goes very still. His hand finds mine. Squeezes once in warning. Don't react. Don't give anything away.
But it's too late. I know my face has already shown everything. The recognition. The fear. The absolute horror of walking into a trap we can't escape.
Seris's smile widens just slightly. Like she sees exactly what I'm thinking and finds it amusing.
We are so fucked.