The air thinned as Kael climbed the jagged cliffs, his boots crunching on shale. Below, the city of Varethis clung to the rock like a barnacle, its towers choked with soot and desperation. He paused, pressing a hand to the stone, feeling the faint hum of ancient mechanisms beneath his palm. The Syndicate’s patrols were near—his sister’s last message had warned of them. He remembered her voice, fractured by static: *”They’re taking the sky. You have to stop them.”*
The wind howled, carrying the acrid scent of ozone and something else—metal, maybe, or the tang of fear. Kael adjusted his scarf, its fibers woven with scavenged sky-silk, and pressed on. The path twisted upward, revealing a sliver of the horizon. Beyond the smog-choked clouds, a pale glow flickered—unreachable, like a dream.
He reached the plateau just as the sun dipped below the world. Shadows pooled in the crevices of the rock, and the air grew heavier, as if the sky itself were holding its breath. A figure emerged from the darkness, cloaked in a patchwork of scavenged fabrics. “You’re late,” the figure said, voice sharp as a blade.
Kael’s hand went to his belt, where a rusted dagger rested. “Who are you?”
“A friend,” the figure replied. “Or an enemy. Depends on what you’re looking for.”
The wind died. The world narrowed to the stranger’s eyes—dark, unblinking, filled with the weight of secrets. Kael swallowed, his throat dry. “The Skyreach. Do you know where it is?”
A pause. Then, “You’re not the first to ask. But you might be the last.”
—
The Syndicate’s airships loomed above the city, their hulls blackened by soot and ambition. Inside the vaults beneath Varethis, the sky was stored—crystallized in glass spheres, each one a stolen breath. Kael had seen it once, through a crack in the stone: a shimmering blue light, pulsing like a heartbeat. His sister’s voice echoed again, clearer this time: *”They’re not taking the sky. They’re taking *us*.”*
The stranger led him through the underbelly of the city, where tunnels twisted like veins. The air here was damp and cold, laced with the scent of mildew and old iron. Kael’s boots splashed through puddles, each step a reminder of the water they’d once taken for granted. “Why help me?” he asked.
The stranger stopped, turning to face him. “Because I’ve seen what happens when the sky dies. And I’m not done fighting for it.”
A distant rumble shook the tunnels. The Syndicate’s drones, their red eyes scanning for intruders. The stranger grabbed Kael’s arm. “We don’t have much time.”
They ran, the tunnel walls closing in around them. Kael’s pulse thrummed in his ears, a frantic rhythm against the silence. The stranger’s cloak billowed behind them, a shadow in the dark.
—
The Skyreach was not a place but a thing—a relic from the old world, buried deep beneath the earth. Kael and the stranger found it in a cavern of glass and bone, the walls shimmering with trapped light. The air here was different, thinner, yet it filled his lungs like a long-lost song.
“This is it,” the stranger said, stepping forward. “But it’s not what you think.”
Kael stared at the structure in the center of the cavern—a spire of metal and crystal, its surface etched with symbols that pulsed faintly. “What is it?”
“A key,” the stranger replied. “To something bigger than you or me. But using it will cost you.”
The symbols flared, and Kael felt a tug in his chest, as if the sky itself were reaching for him. He thought of his sister, of the city’s choking air, of the lives trapped beneath the Syndicate’s lies. “What’s the cost?”
The stranger hesitated. “Your memory. The sky takes what it needs.”
Kael’s breath caught. He glanced at the stranger, searching for deception. But there was none—only resolve. “I’ll do it,” he said.
The stranger nodded. “Then take this.” They handed him a small device, its surface etched with the same symbols as the spire. “It’ll help you navigate the storm. But be careful—some doors don’t close.”
As Kael approached the spire, the cavern trembled. The sky’s light intensified, wrapping around him like a second skin. He placed his hand on the structure, and the world dissolved into brilliance.
—
The storm was waiting.
Kael emerged into a sky of chaos—clouds roiling like living things, lightning splitting the horizon. The spire’s device hummed in his hand, its symbols glowing brighter. He climbed the floating ruins of an ancient city, each step a battle against the wind. Below, the Syndicate’s airships circled, their engines roaring.
“You don’t have to do this,” the stranger’s voice echoed in his mind. “The sky isn’t worth it.”
Kael ignored the doubt. He reached the highest point, where the storm’s heart pulsed like a wound. The device flared, and the symbols on his hand burned. He pressed them to the air, and the storm answered.
The sky shattered.
Light erupted, flooding the world. Kael felt himself lift, carried by something vast and ancient. The Syndicate’s ships crumbled, their stolen air scattering like dust. Below, Varethis fell silent, its people staring up in awe.
But the sky was not restored. It was *free*.
Kael landed in the ruins, his body trembling. The stranger stood nearby, their cloak tattered. “It’s done,” they said.
“What happens now?” Kael asked.
The stranger looked at him, their eyes reflecting the storm’s remnants. “Now? Now we rebuild. But the sky will never be the same.”
Kael nodded, staring at the horizon. The air was still thin, but it was *his*. And for the first time in a long while, he could breathe.
