The sky above the Cloudhaven Peaks darkened into a tapestry of violet and silver as dusk swept across the floating realm of Aethoria. Wisps of glowing mist curled between mountaintops like fingers of slumbering giants, and flocks of crystal-feathered skybirds scattered at the approach of two gliders cutting through the twilight. Lyra Flynn, her wings shimmering with moonlight, leaned into the wind. Her face was set with purpose, her sky-gray eyes scanning the clouds ahead. She flew silent as a ghost, her silver-white braid trailing behind her like a comet's tail.
Beside her, Kael Dareth's dark glider veered to match her descent, his silhouette framed against a halo of stormlight far behind them. The flare of the Devouring Storm still painted the southern horizon, but ahead — to the northwest — rose their destination.
A marvel carved from legend.
A place where magic walked the sky.
Starweaver's Bridge.
It was unlike any structure Lyra had ever seen. A colossal arc of starlight and ancient stone suspended not over land, but over open sky — a bridge that connected nothing but the space between worlds. Runes drifted around it like orbiting motes. The bridge shimmered, semi-transparent, as though made of woven threads of reality itself. Lyra felt its magic before she saw it clearly — it tingled at her skin like static, like breath on a winter morning. Her heartbeat slowed, then quickened again. The fourth waypoint. The last piece before Eldarath's final coordinates.
As they approached, the temperature dropped sharply. Their gliders wobbled as if buffeted by unseen currents.
Kael spoke through the wind. "You feel that?"
"Yes," Lyra replied, her voice tense. "Something's watching."
From her satchel, Cael pulsed a faint blue glow.
"This is the boundary," came the artifact's voice, low and resonant. "The bridge is not a place — it is a crossing of realms. Only those of clear heart and unburdened intent may step across."
"Unburdened?" Kael snorted. "We've been shot at, chased by skybeasts, nearly roasted by a flaming wyrm, and now you're telling us we need to be spiritually pure?"
"Not pure," Cael corrected. "True."
Lyra narrowed her eyes. "Then we go together."
They landed softly at the edge of the bridge, their boots crunching on a surface that shimmered like moonlit ice and yet gave the firmness of steel. Every footfall sent ripples through the air, and the wind grew silent. Eerily silent. No birds. No whisper. Even Cael dimmed, as though awed by the place.
Kael stepped beside her, hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. His dark green eyes scanned the air, his jaw tight. "If anything jumps out at us this time, I swear I'll—"
The world shifted.
Light bent.
Shadows bled from nowhere and coalesced into forms. Ethereal silhouettes emerged across the bridge — not made of flesh, but of starlight and memory. Each stood tall, wings folded behind long cloaks, faces obscured by glowing veils. Their bodies shimmered as if stitched together from moonbeams and dream-threads.
The Starweavers.
Guardians of the crossing.
One stepped forward.
Its voice rang like bells in a crystal cavern: "You seek Eldarath. You walk the path of flame and wind. But the sky remembers."
Lyra bowed instinctively. "We don't mean to trespass."
"All who come here mean to take." The Starweaver's glowing eyes turned to Cael. "And that is what led to Eldarath's fall."
Another figure stepped forward — this one feminine in build, her face still veiled in silver strands of magic. "What do you seek, Skystrider? Speak true, or the bridge shall cast you into the void."
Lyra took a breath.
"My name is Lyra Flynn, daughter of Elden and Mariel. I seek Eldarath not for power, but for truth. My family's past lies buried there. My people's history was stolen. I want to uncover it — restore what was lost."
The Starweavers were silent.
Then—
"And him?" They gestured to Kael.
Kael raised an eyebrow. "I'm here because someone's got to make sure she doesn't get herself killed."
A pause.
Then something shocking: a soft chuckle rippled through the weavers. It wasn't mocking. It was approval.
"Then face the trial," the lead figure said.
The sky cracked open.
From the air, creatures descended — not monstrous in shape, but elegant and terrible. Serpents of light, eagles with wings of constellations, lions of aurora. Star-spirits.
One lunged.
Kael's blade met it in a flare of sparks, his boots skidding across the bridge. Lyra leapt backward, drawing her twin shortblades, spinning as another spirit swept in, claws outstretched.
The bridge turned into a battlefield of fire and sky.
She fought not with rage, but with rhythm — the Skystrider way. Every movement an arc, every dodge a glide. Her eyes burned silver-blue as Cael pulsed at her hip, sending bursts of protective light when she stumbled.
Kael roared, parrying a strike that would've pierced Lyra's back. "A little help?!"
"I'm working on it!"
One of the star-lions reared back to pounce—when suddenly Cael blazed with energy.
"Together!" the artifact called.
Lyra and Kael both grabbed Cael.
Power flooded them.
Lyra's blades ignited with silver flame. Kael's sword lengthened, the runes glowing with ancient Aerthys sigils.
They fought not as two — but as one.
The star-spirits faltered, unable to breach their combined aura.
One by one, they dissolved into glittering motes of light.
Silence returned.
The bridge stilled.
The Starweavers stood again — untouched, unmoving.
"You have passed," one said.
Cael dimmed, its energy spent but not extinguished.
"Eldarath lies beyond the veil. Only one final gate remains."
Lyra's voice was quiet. "Where?"
The weaver raised a hand — and the clouds parted, revealing a sight that stole her breath.
Far, far to the east — past the glowing mists of the Starlight Lakes, beyond the last fragments of Aerthys ruins, beyond even the known borders of Aethoria — a shape floated in the void.
A city.
Broken, luminous, veiled in starlight.
Eldarath.
The final destination.
But even as Lyra stared, something passed between her and the city.
A shape.
A ship.
Black and angular. A relic of the empire. But it bore no crest of Aethoria.
Kael squinted. "That's... not one of ours."
More ships emerged. Six. Then a dozen. They moved like spiders, silently crawling through the clouds.
Lyra's stomach twisted. "They've found it too."
The weaver lowered its hand.
"You have until the eclipse," it said. "Then the gate will seal. Forever."
The bridge shimmered once more — and behind them, the path began to dissolve.
Time was no longer on their side.