The Sky-Bridge was not a structure; it was a fortress suspended between two realities. It stretched out over the churning Void Sea, an architectural insult to nature, its steel carapace gleaming under the icy light of Aethelgard's moons. Kael stood on Checkpoint Delta-5, feeling the thrum of the immense, suppressed energy beneath the metal plates. The air here tasted of ozone and the subtle, chaotic magic of the Sea below.
He was officially on duty as part of the specialized Guard, thanks to the subtle corruption he had introduced into the Archives. His presence felt like a lie in this place of absolute truth.
Commander Voren, the man Kael had betrayed, approached, his shadow stretching long and sharp across the deck.
"Varrus," Voren's voice cut the wind. "The automated supply drone to Outpost Nine has jammed. Its cargo is sensitive—a fresh magnetic stabilizer array. It failed right after Checkpoint Gamma, halfway to the next bulkhead. You will bypass the security grid, retrieve the drone, and repair the carriage mechanism."
Kael immediately recognized the trap. Drone recovery was a job for mechanical engineers, not security guards. The path to Gamma was sealed by a pressure-plate matrix and motion sensors—a complex, layered security web designed to test the alertness and honesty of the guard. Voren was forcing him into a situation where a mistake was guaranteed.
"Understood, Commander," Kael said, maintaining a rigid posture.
Voren's eyes narrowed. "Don't use the emergency override. The log must be clean. Failure means reassignment to the sewage filters."
Failure means I never find Lena.
Kael waited until Voren was out of sight, then turned his back to the drone bay. The Sky-Bridge was composed of segmented bulkheads. Gamma Checkpoint was three hundred meters away, across a catwalk designed to sway in the Void Sea winds.
He drew his energy inward. The Shadow was agonizingly close, a promise of swift, surgical relief from this impossible task.
He extended his Shadow Tether toward the security matrix ahead. He needed to sustain his Insight long enough to find a path that was not physical, but structural.
ARC L2.I: Apprentice, Novice. Kael knew his Shadow Tether was unstable. It could be held for maybe five seconds before the mental effort collapsed him. He had to be perfect.
He exhaled slowly, focusing his entire consciousness on the intricate, beautiful mathematics of the bridge. The Shadow rushed forward, an inky blur that wrapped around the first motion sensor.
The Insight flashed:
Motion Grid (Red Lines): Impossible to cross physically.
Pressure Plates (Orange Squares): Too sensitive to jump or balance around.
The Flaw (Green Glyphs): The entire security matrix drew its synchronization pulse from a single, exposed data line running along the bottom girder. If the pulse was delayed by a microsecond, the entire grid would desync, briefly opening a path.
The structural path is not through the checkpoint; it is through the timing.
Kael had five seconds. He had already used two.
He drove the remaining three seconds of his Shadow Tether through the dense steel floor, aiming the chaotic power like a spear toward the weak, pulsing data line. He focused on a single, impossible outcome: Absolute Zero energy for a split second.
Chaos creates order.
The sheer effort made a searing heat rise up his neck, and the Shadow felt like a physical weight crushing his spine. He held it for one more second—the final moment of his L2.I control.
Desync.
He severed the connection instantly, allowing the Shadow to dissipate. He staggered, the full weight of the exhaustion hitting him. He felt lightheaded, but his Shadow use was silent, localized, and invisible to the thermal sensors.
The motion grid, for a fleeting moment, vanished. The red lines flickered green, then blue, signaling a brief system reboot.
Kael darted forward. The movement was a calculated risk—a sprint across the plates while the system was blind. He passed the checkpoint in three seconds, reaching the jammed drone just as the pressure plates clicked back online behind him.
He slammed his hand onto the drone's surface, steadying himself. The cost was immense: his vision was blurry, his muscles were shaking, and he felt the sickening cold of the Shadow lingering deep in his bones.
One segment down. Dozens to go.
As he inspected the drone (a simple magnetic coil fracture, easily repaired), he glanced down. Far below, the Void Sea churned, and in the distance, a faint, almost invisible speck of Luminous Green cut through the heavy cloud layer. It was too far to be certain, but Kael felt an instinctive, desperate surge of hope.
Lyra. His Light.
He knew then that every Shadow-step he took on this metal prison was worth the price. The Shadow was the only key. He quickly repaired the drone and sent it onward, knowing that Voren would see a clean repair log, utterly ignorant of the tactical Shadow-magic that had just been used to advance the mission—and advance Kael's quest for reunion.