Part 1: The Confession
The silence in the underground chamber was absolute. The light from the central pillar flickered, casting long, dancing shadows over the mural of the "Spike" consuming the world.
Zephyr turned from the wall, his eyes haunted by the ancient prophecy he had just shared.
"The First Father believed the Spike would one day finish its meal," Zephyr whispered. "But it is just a legend. A story to frighten children."
"It isn't a story," Elian said. His voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made the air in the chamber feel heavy.
Elian stepped closer to the carving of the kneeling figures—the batteries connected to the tower. He traced the chains with his finger.
"I haven't just seen this carving, Zephyr. I have walked through the aftermath."
The King and the Prince turned to stare at him.
Elian looked up, his hazel eyes looking older than his face. He took a breath, deciding to drop the mask entirely.
"I am a Regressor. I have walked this path to the end. I have climbed the Spike to its peak. And I have seen what happens when it wakes up."
Thal'dor, the massive Storm-Prince, stepped forward, his lightning tattoos flaring with suspicion. "You claim to have seen the future? That is a boast of a madman or a god."
"It is neither," Elian replied calmly, meeting the Prince's gaze. "It is a curse."
He pointed to the mural, then to the empty air where the Aerie currently floated.
"In the life I lived before... I climbed to this floor. I expected to find guardians. I expected to find Kings."
Elian looked at Zephyr with pity.
"But I found nothing. No civilization. No riders. No songs. The Aerie was a graveyard of silent stone."
Zephyr took a step back, his face paling.
"In my timeline, the Aerie does not fall to war. It falls to silence," Elian continued, his voice hard.
"The Spike grew hungry. It sucked the mana from the air. Your floating islands lost their buoyancy. They crashed into the sea below long before my people ever arrived. You didn't die fighting, Zephyr. You suffocated in the dark."
The horror of a King isn't his own death; it is the quiet extinction of his people—the idea that they could vanish without even leaving a memory.
"You..." Zephyr whispered, his voice trembling. "You walked through our tomb?"
"Every time I close my eyes," Elian said. "That is why I am here. To break the cycle."
Part 2: The Proof
"Words are wind," Zephyr challenged, though his resolve was shaking. "How can I trust the nightmare of a stranger?"
"You need weight?" Elian asked. "I have it."
He reached into his inventory. He didn't pull out a sword. He pulled out the Black Cube he had found in the glitch of Floor 10—the key to Floor 0.
The moment the Cube appeared, the air in the chamber grew heavy. The light from the pillar seemed to bend toward it, sucked into its matte-black surface.
Caelum gasped, stepping back. "That... that is not of this world. It feels like... the void between stars."
"This is a shard of the Architect's memory," Elian explained—a truth Zephyr could understand. "It holds the records of the failed cycles."
Elian held the Cube out to the Wind King.
"Touch it, Zephyr. And see the silence."
Zephyr hesitated. The object radiated a cold, metallic malice. But the need to know—the duty of a King—forced his hand.
He reached out. His translucent blue fingers brushed the black surface.
FLASH.
Zephyr's eyes rolled back. His body went rigid.
He didn't see code. He saw the end.
He saw the Aerie crashing into the sea. He saw the Wind-Drakes falling from the sky like stones, their wings limp. He saw the empty throne room, dusty and forgotten, the mana drained from the world.
He felt the despair of a dead timeline where the Sky-Kin were nothing but dust.
"Gah!" Zephyr gasped, jerking his hand away as if burned. He stumbled back, caught by his son.
The King panted heavily, sweat beading on his forehead. He looked at Elian with new eyes. The suspicion was gone, replaced by a profound, terrified respect.
"You carried this?" Zephyr whispered. "You walked back from that?"
"I walked back to stop it," Elian said, putting the Cube away.
Part 3: The New Demand
The atmosphere in the room shifted. Zephyr paced the small chamber, his mind racing to align his worldview with the horror he had just witnessed.
"You asked for our engineering," Zephyr said, his voice steadying as he pieced it together.
"You asked for our maps, our magic, and our culture. I thought you were just a greedy groundling seeking power."
He looked at Caelum, then back to Elian.
" But if the mana drains away... if the 'Silence' comes... our ships will fall. Our magic will fail. The things you asked for will be useless."
"Exactly," Elian said. "That is why I need one more thing. Something I didn't ask for in the hall, because I didn't know if you were ready to hear the truth."
Elian walked back to the center of the room.
"We are building a lifeboat, Zephyr. A device—a Soul Anchor—that can cheat the hunger of the Spike. It can sustain us when the world goes dark. But a machine that defies the laws of this world requires a fuel source that doesn't exist in the open air."
Elian looked at the King with steel in his eyes.
"To save the Aerie, I need a battery dense enough to mimic a star. I need a source of infinite, renewable energy."
"Volcanis," Zephyr breathed, realizing the implication.
"The Storm King," Elian nodded. "He holds the Lightning Heart. It isn't just a magical organ; it is a condensed singularity of the storm. If I have that, I can power the Anchor. I can keep your islands afloat even if the Spike tries to drink the sky dry."
Zephyr stared at him. The audacity was staggering.
"Volcanis is a madman," Zephyr admitted. "He believes the Storm is eternal. He does not know he is just fuel waiting to be burned. If taking his Heart saves us from the Silence... then let the Storm be broken."
Part 4: The Blood Price
"We have an accord," Zephyr announced.
He reached into his silk robe and pulled out a small, intricate object. It was a whistle carved from a single piece of Pale Aer-Bone.
[Item: The Sky-Whistle (Master Key)]
[Effect: Grants authority over Wind-Drakes. Enables mounting and aerial combat.]
He handed it to Elian.
"Take it. Not as a trade, but as an armament. Teach your groundlings to fly. You will need the wings to reach the Thunder Peaks."
Elian took the whistle. It felt light, vibrating with latent magic.
"Thank you," Elian said. "We will not fail."
"One condition," Zephyr interrupted.
The King turned to his son, the massive Storm-Prince Thal'dor.
"The old ways are dying, my son. Honor... duels... open sky combat... these things will not stop the Spike. This Human... this Regressor... he fights with the desperation of a drowning man."
Zephyr looked at Elian.
"You fight dirty," Zephyr said. "You use traps. You use shadows. You win at any cost."
Elian nodded. "I fight to survive."
"Thal'dor must learn this," Zephyr commanded. "He is strong, but he is naive. He thinks war is a game of glory."
The King placed a hand on Thal'dor's shoulder.
"You will take the Prince with you. He will fly with Eclipse. He will watch you steal the Heart. And he will learn what it means to fight when the world is ending."
Thal'dor looked shocked. "Father? You want me to follow a groundling?"
"I want you to learn how to save us," Zephyr said firmly. "Go with him. Do not return until you understand the weight of the fall."
Thal'dor looked at Elian. The arrogance was gone, replaced by a warrior's curiosity. He slammed his fist against his chest.
"I will shadow you, Regressor. Show me your war."
Part 5: The Call
They ascended the spiral staircase, leaving the mural in the dark. The table reassembled itself, hiding the secret history of the world.
When they re-entered the banquet hall, the party was still in full swing. Titan was laughing, holding a goblet the size of a bucket. Sylvia was showing a group of Sky-Kin how to take a "selfie" with a crystal.
The music stopped as the King entered.
Zephyr floated up to his throne. His face was grave.
"Citizens of the Sky!" Zephyr's voice boomed. "The winds are changing!"
He pointed to Elian.
"This is no longer a guest. This is an Ally of the Blood. Eclipse flies with the Aerie!"
A cheer went up, but it was cut short as Elian stepped forward.
He raised the Sky-Whistle to his lips
He didn't play a song. He blew a single, piercing note that cut through the hall like a knife.
SCREEEE.
Outside, in the open air, five hundred Wind-Drakes roared in answer.
Elian looked at his team—at Valen, Isara, Jax, Roger, and the others. They stood up, sensing the shift. The party was over. The work was beginning.
"Gear up," Elian commanded, his voice amplified by the silence. "We have dragons to tame."
He turned to the east, where dark, black clouds flashed with violent lightning in the distance.
"Next stop: The Thunder Peaks."