Ardyn sat stiffly in the wooden chair, both hands clenched on the table before him. His knuckles were pale, his palms damp. The room smelled faintly of brass polish and wind-worn paper—one of the Cirran briefing chambers, quiet and still.
Captain Seris sat across from him, arms resting on the table's edge, gaze steady but not sharp. Beside him, Roe Tiruel leaned back with his fingers lightly steepled, observant but relaxed.
"Are you fine to talk now, Ardyn?" Seris asked, his voice calm, almost gentle—like a rope being lowered rather than tossed.
Ardyn didn't look up. His eyes stayed locked on his hands, still clenched tight. He gave a small nod.
"If you want more time, we could speak later," Roe offered.
"It's okay," Ardyn murmured.
There was a moment of quiet, broken only by the distant groan of metal shifting somewhere in the arena's upper scaffolding.
Seris leaned in slightly. "Let me start with the obvious: where did you find the Aerolith?"
Ardyn exhaled through his nose, then ran a hand back through his wind-mussed brown hair. "I… I found it recently. In our mechanic shop."
He hesitated, his eyes flicking toward Roe before returning to the table.
"After the airquake. The next day, I was digging through what was left. I found a hidden compartment under one of the old benches. It might've been my Pap's…"
His hands clenched again. The tendons in his wrists stood out.
"He might not even know I took it," Ardyn added quietly. "I haven't told him."
Am I… in trouble?" he asked, lifting his head for the first time. His eyes met theirs, uncertain but steady.
"No, no," Captain Seris said quickly, waving a hand dismissively. "Nothing like that."
He leaned forward a little. "Are you planning on telling your grandfather about it?"
"Not for now," Ardyn said. "I don't think he's found out. I put everything back the way it was."
He paused, then gave a small, dry huff of breath—half humor, half unease.
"And knowing Pops… if he realized I took something from one of his old workbenches, he'd have stormed over to the arena by now, demanding to know what I'd touched. He gets… weird about his personal things. Sentimental, I guess. Like even the rusted scraps have stories."
Both Seris and Roe let out a quiet laugh—more of a chuckle, really, the kind that came from years of knowing the quirks of old skyfolk.
"We'll let you know once he storms in here," Seris said with a half-laugh, leaning back in his chair.
Then his expression shifted—less light, more measured. "I think that Aerolith is a rare one, Ardyn."
He leaned forward again, voice steady. "Would you allow us to study it? Just to understand what we're dealing with. Of course, it's still yours."
"Technically speaking, his Pap's," Roe added, glancing at Seris with a faint smirk.
A small smile tugged at the corner of Ardyn's lips at that. It was the kind of comment his grandfather might actually agree with—loudly.
He nodded, then lifted the satchel onto his lap. With a careful hand, he opened the flap, pulled out the Aerolith, and placed it gently on the table.
"Thank you for trusting us," Seris said, his tone sincere. He reached out and carefully picked up the Aerolith, then placed it into a reinforced lockbox lined with padded compartments—clearly designed for handling and storing Aerolith stones.
"If this really is some rare variant, we might have a serious advantage in the coming Skytest," he added, his eyes still on the lockbox
"Ardyn," Roe said, voice firmer now. "I think you have a connection to that Aerolith. More than you realize. I want you to stay. Keep training with the Cirrans. And… consider being my replacement."
Ardyn rested his elbows on the table and placed his hands together beneath his chin, silent. Processing.
"I agree with Roe," Seris said. "That blast from earlier—it's not unheard of. If you've watched Skytest matches before, a few players from the other Isles have used bursts like that. It's rare, but it's out there. This Aerolith might be one of the same class… or something close."
He stood and stretched slightly. "Stay here for the night. Think it over. We'll return the Aerolith to you in the morning, and you can let us know your decision."
Ardyn lowered his hands to the table and nodded. "Okay. I'll think about it."
* * *
Ardyn sat on the edge of the bed in his assigned room at the Skyrink Arena, the quiet settling around him like a blanket. The room was elegant—clean stone walls, polished floors, and a soft hanging light that pulsed gently like a resting heart. It was nearly twice the size of his bed back home. But what struck him most was the stillness. No clanging tools, no scent of grease and smoke, no low hum of cooling vents or the familiar weight of a half-assembled gear rig resting beside him.
He wasn't used to beds, not really. Back in Windmere's workshop, he'd gotten more sleep curled up on their mechanic bench than in his own room. The softness here felt almost suspicious.
But then he saw it.
One wall of the room was taken up entirely by a tall shelving unit—no, a full library cabinet—stretched wide with rows upon rows of books. Leatherbound tomes, hand-stitched manuals, and sleek archival volumes sat neatly in place, their spines gleaming under the overhead light.
He stood slowly, drawn to it like a moth to flame, eyes wide with wonder.
"Whoa..." he breathed, reaching out as if afraid the whole thing might vanish if he moved too fast.
It was like stepping into a toy shop as a kid—only better. His fingers trailed the spines, reading titles about wind science, flight theory, Cirran combat techniques. He spotted one about advanced ship rigging and snatched it off the shelf with a grin, flipping through pages covered in detailed diagrams and worn corner notes. He let out a low chuckle, already imagining what Maren would say about half the builds.
After a few pages, he closed the book gently and set it aside on the desk, promising himself he'd come back to it later. There was too much to see now. He scanned more titles—The Complete Skytest Records, Galegear and Combat Flight, Histories of the Inner Isles, Rare Aerolith Phenomena…
Then one spine caught his attention:
"The Art of Syncing with Aeroliths."
His hand hovered over it for a second before pulling it out. The cover was simple, marked only by a silver-stamped emblem of a swirling wind pattern.
Ardyn opened book and carried it to the bed, the thick pages soft in his hands. He sank into the mattress—far softer than the wooden workbench he usually slept on—and pulled his legs up beneath him as he flipped to the first chapter.
Before long, he was fully absorbed.
His eyes scanned each line with growing intensity, flipping through diagrams of internal channels, sync triggers, and rare Aerolith resonance patterns. The world outside the room faded. The golden evening light shifted to night without him noticing.
He devoured the pages like a starving mechanic handed a blueprint to a long-lost engine, soaking in the theories, the anecdotes, the quiet revelations. Hours slipped by unnoticed as he turned page after page, the night deepening around him without a whisper. Outside, the winds of Windmere shifted, and the stars wheeled across the sky—but Ardyn didn't notice.
His eyes grew heavier somewhere between a section on elemental conductivity and a passage describing rare Aerolith-triggered phenomena. The words began to blur. He blinked, tried to focus, but the pages softened into haze.
The next thing he knew, pale morning light filtered through the window, warming the side of his face. The book lay open across it, half-slipped down his cheek.
As Ardyn stirred, the weight of the book slid off his face and landed on his chest with a soft thud. He blinked at the ceiling, groggy and disoriented, before glancing to the side—where a tray sat on the table beside his bed, steam curling up from a still-warm breakfast.
Someone had come in without waking him.
He sat up, stretched, then reached for the food. Fluffy graincakes, a few slices of dried starfruit, and a mug of rich nutbrew. He ate quietly, still letting the fog of sleep clear. Once finished, he stood and stretched, finally taking a better look at the room he'd barely explored the night before. It was elegant—modest in size but clearly built with care. Across from the bed was a tall cabinet of smooth darkwood, and when he opened it, he found several neatly folded sets of clothes, each tailored in Windmere's signature sky-blue trim. Beside it, a narrow door led into a compact but polished bathroom.
He took a quick bath, steam curling around his thoughts, then changed into a clean set of clothes. As soon as he stepped back into the main room, he returned to the book—The Art of Syncing with Aeroliths—and cracked it open again, ready to pick up where he'd left off.
But before he could read a full paragraph, a knock echoed from the door.
Ardyn walked over to the door and pulled it open. Standing there were Pimri and Doma, both in relaxed uniforms and easy smiles.
"Good morning, Ard!" Pimri greeted, stepping into the room without so much as a pause.
"Ard?" Ardyn echoed, raising an eyebrow as he stepped aside. "Is there anything I can do for you both?"
"Yes, I'm calling you Ard now," Pimri said, grinning as he made himself at home.
"We just thought we'd drop by to chat a bit," Doma added, following Pimri in with a polite nod. "No drills yet, and you're the newest in the sky, so... figured we'd stop in."
Pimri's eyes landed on the book resting on Ardyn's bed. He reached over, picked it up, and flipped it toward the cover.
"Ooh… nice! You're trying to learn," he said, a teasing lilt in his voice.
Ardyn brushed his hair back with one hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Captain Seris told me to stay."
"Yes, you should," Pimri replied, tossing the book casually back onto the bed. "We need a new Skyrunner."
"Roe is a Skyrunner?" Ardyn asked, brows raised with curiosity.
"You're not a fan of Skytest?" Doma cut in, a bit surprised.
"I only watched a few games," Ardyn admitted. "But that was way back… I think I was still a kid."
"So you don't know how famous we are?" Pimri said with a wide grin, jabbing a thumb toward himself.
"I guess not…" Ardyn replied with an awkward shrug.
"Just kidding, man!" Pimri laughed, waving the idea off like it was nothing.
His eyes drifted again to the book. "Seeing that you're reading that, I'm guessing you've already decided to stay and train?"
Ardyn narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Almost. Maybe."
"Let's go, Ard…" Pimri said, already heading toward the door with a casual wave for Ardyn to follow.
"Where?" Ardyn asked, trailing a step behind.
"To train, obviously," Pimri grinned. "Dom and I are your instructors now. Congratulations—worst promotion ever."
Doma crossed his arms, smirking. "Don't worry, we'll go easy on you."
"The first hour," Pimri added with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the tease.
* * *
The edge of the Skyrink Arena stretched into a wide, open platform—like a grand terrace carved from the arena's upper level. There were no railings, just clean, pale stone giving way to endless blue. From here, the sky felt impossibly close, as if one step forward could send a person soaring or falling forever. The morning sun warmed the surface, and the air carried the sharp scent of altitude—clean and brisk.
"We train here," Pimri said, stepping forward with a grin.
"Roe gave us his Galegear boots earlier this morning," Doma added. The big guy slung a canvas bag off his shoulder and set it down with a solid thump. He crouched and pulled the boots from inside—sleek, reinforced, and socketed for Aeroliths.
Doma handed the boots to Ardyn, and the moment his fingers brushed the surface, the Aeroliths embedded within them flared to life—glowing sharp and bright in his hands.
Doma arched a brow, eyes narrowing thoughtfully at the flare of light. He turned his head toward Pimri, who gave a slow nod, lips curling into a grin that deepened with unspoken approval.
Ardyn lowered himself onto one knee and began strapping on the Galegear boots, the embedded Aeroliths still pulsing with soft light. The buckles clicked into place with ease and flexed his feet slightly, adjusting to the weight—and stood up.
There was a quiet steadiness in his posture now, a shift from the unease of the day before. His movements were more sure, more grounded, as he faced the open sky ahead. The wind brushed through his hair, but he held firm, waiting—ready—for whatever instruction came next.
"Can see that you're more confident now," Doma said, arms crossed with a slight grin.
"Yeah," Pimri added. "Now, try syncing with the Aerolith."
Ardyn gave a small nod and didn't spread his arms like he had yesterday. Instead, the things he'd read the night before—about breathing, about intention and resonance—flashed through his mind. He closed his eyes briefly, drawing a slow breath through his nose, letting it settle deep into his chest.
A few seconds passed.
The Galegear responded with a soft hum, and then a compressed gust of air hissed beneath his boots. The lift wasn't sudden or wild this time—it was controlled. Ground easing away, Ardyn rose off the platform, steady and upright, eyes open and glowing with a mixture of thrill and disbelief. He turned his head toward Pimri and Doma, a wide grin spreading across his face.
Pimri and Doma exchanged a glance, then bumped fists.
"Do you even need us to teach you?" Pimri said, shaking his head with a laugh.
From the training terrace, laughter and the rush of air echoed into the open sky.
Far across the arena, high on one of the upper walkways and well out of sight, Captain Seris stood with his arms behind his back, Roe leaning against the rail beside him.
"He's already flying," Roe said, a note of amusement in his voice. "Told you he was something else."
Seris gave a small nod, his eyes tracking the boy as he hovered midair. "And syncing faster than any recruit I've seen in years."
"Good call letting Pimri and Doma handle him," he added. "He's more comfortable with them."
Roe allowed himself the faintest grin. "Let's just hope he keeps flying forward."