Further up, where the air was so thin it was almost nothing but light, they saw them.
Figures moving through the void, swimming through the currents of magic as if they were water. They were tall and slender, made of shifting colors and flowing shapes. They had no faces, but their presence felt ancient and wise.
"The Aetheri," Lyra breathed, reaching for her books. "The legends were true. They are the spirits of the upper atmosphere."
The beings surrounded the ship, not attacking, but observing. One of them, larger than the rest, approached the bow. It didn't speak with words, but images and feelings flooded directly into their minds.
"Why do you climb so high, children of the rock?" the presence asked. "The lower worlds are for living. This place is for dreaming."
"We come because the dreams are becoming nightmares," Kaelen said, standing beside Lyra. "The storms below are growing dangerous. Our cities are shaking. We need to know why."
The Aetheri pulsed with a color that looked like sadness. "The Sleeping Tempest awakens. It is time for the sky to change, to grow, to bring new possibilities into your world. But your structures, your beacons, your rules—they are resisting. They are trying to keep the sky in a cage, and the cage is breaking."
"So it's not an attack?" Lyra asked.
"It is a birth," the being replied. "And birth is always painful. If you try to stop it, you will kill both the child and the mother. If you let it happen without guidance, the chaos will destroy you."
"Then what do we do?" Reeve asked, looking awed.
"You must go to the Eye," the Aetheri instructed. "There, at the center of the storm, lies the heart of the change. You must speak to it. You must understand it. And then… you must decide what kind of world you want to live in."