The wind carried Kael to the underside of the Crown of Aetherion—a floating island base supported by massive crystal pillars. As he drew closer, he truly grasped the city's grandeur: walls of silver metal a hundred meters high, carved with flowing runes that glowed faintly under the starlight. Countless glowing lanterns hung from the city's underside like an inverted starry sky.
"Lower your altitude. Enter through Cargo Platform Seven." The Keeper's voice echoed in his mind. "That's the least guarded spot. Usually where smugglers get in."
"How do you know?"
"In three hundred and seven years, I've witnessed seventeen illegal entries. Thirteen succeeded, four failed. The failures were thrown into the Void Abyss."
Kael's heart tightened, but he followed the instructions, letting the wind carry him toward an inconspicuous platform at the city's base. The platform was piled with crates and sacks; a few workers in worn leather armor lazily moved cargo. No one looked up as he landed—in this sky city, people using magic to fly weren't uncommon.
The moment his feet touched the ground, Kael felt weak. Maintaining flight had drained him; sweat soaked through his undershirt.
"You need food and rest. Magic is not without cost." The Keeper said. "Turn left, go through that archway. You'll see a place called 'The Windwhisper Tavern.' Don't ask why it's called that—just a coincidence."
Kael passed through the arch into a narrow alley. Buildings towered on either side, nearly blocking out the sky. The air smelled oddly of spices, engine oil, and magical dust. People hurried past: robed mages, mechanics with toolkits, nobles in splendid attire—their cuffs all embroidered with the silver "Skyborn" rune, symbolizing pure blood.
Instinctively, Kael tugged at his ragged collar, covering the faint silver lightning birthmark on his neck—the proof of his "impure" blood.
"Don't lower your head." The Keeper said suddenly. "Your bloodline is closer to the Skyborn than you think. They just refuse to admit it."
"Why?"
"Fear. Fear that mixed-bloods will taint their purity. Fear that beings like you will shake their rule. But the truth is…" The Keeper's voice paused. "The Skyborn blood was never pure. The first 'Children of the Sky' were descendants of humans and star-spirits. So-called pure blood is a lie fabricated by later generations."
Kael stood frozen. For sixteen years, he had been shamed and ostracized for being mixed-blood. And now, a talking book was telling him it was all a lie?
"Watch out!"
The warning came too late. Kael felt a sharp pain at the back of his neck, his vision went dark, and he was yanked into a nearby dark alley. A thick arm wrapped around his neck, another hand clamped over his mouth.
"Don't move, kid." A raspy voice growled in his ear. "Hand over whatever magical artifact you're carrying. I can smell ancient magic on you."
A robbery. Kael's heart pounded. He tried to struggle, but the man's grip was iron-strong. He tried to call for the Keeper, but no sound came out.
"Use the wind." The Keeper's voice remained calm. "The wind is your extension. Make it enter his nostrils, his ears, his eyes. Make him unable to breathe, see, or hear."
Kael closed his eyes, focusing. He "heard" the wind—the musty air currents flowing through the narrow alley. He imagined those currents becoming fine needles, piercing the man's face.
"Ugh—!"
A pained grunt. The arm around his neck loosened. Kael seized the moment, breaking free and turning to see his attacker—a burly, rough-faced man—clutching his eyes and nose as if assaulted by invisible dust.
"Run."
Kael didn't need to be told twice. He dashed deeper into the alley, turning corners until he was sure no one was following, then leaned against a wall, gasping.
"What… was that?"
"A variant application of basic Windwhisper magic. Not lethal, but enough to create chaos." The Keeper said. "You need systematic training. Next time, it won't be a common street thug."
Kael nodded and continued walking. Minutes later, he saw the sign for "The Windwhisper Tavern"—a weather-beaten wooden board with a painted image of a flying raven.
Pushing open the creaking wooden door, he was hit by the smell of ale, sweat, and roasted meat. The tavern buzzed with noise—sailors, mercenaries, smugglers sat at rough wooden tables, talking loudly, arguing, drinking. Behind the bar, a one-eyed old woman polished glasses.
Kael approached the bar, pulling out the few copper coins left in his pocket—his saved wages from the Wind Whisperer.
"A glass of water, please."
The one-eyed woman glanced at him, poured a glass of murky water, and slid it over. "First time in the Crown of Aetherion?"
"Yes."
"Mixed-blood?" Her single eye fixed on the birthmark on Kael's neck.
Kael stiffly nodded.
"Then don't stay long." The old woman lowered her voice. "Things are tense in the city lately. The Skyborn Council is hunting down 'bloodline contaminants,' saying they need to 'purify the blood.' Over a dozen mixed-bloods have been taken already. None came back."
Kael tightened his grip on the glass. Bloodline contaminants—the Skyborn's derogatory term for mixed-bloods.
"Why start hunting now? Mixed-bloods have always existed."
"Because 'the seal is weakening.'" A voice came from the side.
Kael turned to see a red-haired girl with glasses sitting at a corner table, a heavy ancient tome spread open before her. She looked about his age, but her eyes held a sharpness beyond her years.
"What did you say?"
"The seal on the Skyborn Codex is weakening." The girl closed her book, adjusting her glasses. "I'm Lyra. Former history student at the Sky Academy—until I was expelled because my research 'threatened the purity of the Skyborn.'"
She stood, walked over to Kael, scrutinized him, then her gaze fell to his waist—where the Keeper was wrapped in a rag, hidden beneath his clothes.
"And you," Lyra whispered, her eyes gleaming with excitement, "you carry the Codex's aura. Very ancient. Very… powerful."
Kael's heart nearly stopped.
"She can smell me." The Keeper's voice held a note of surprise. "Interesting. This girl is not ordinary."
"Come with me." Lyra grabbed Kael's wrist, pulling him toward the tavern's back door. "It's not safe here. The Skyborn Council has eyes everywhere."
"Wait, why should I trust you?"
"Because," Lyra looked back with a sly smile, "I know what the Codex is calling for. And I know you're also seeking answers—about your lineage, about this world, about why you were chosen."
Kael hesitated. But the Keeper's voice echoed in his mind:
"Go with her. She speaks the truth. And… I can sense she knows things even I do not."
Kael took a deep breath and nodded.
Lyra's smile widened. "Welcome to the real world, Kael. Or should I say—welcome to the moment the last Skyborn blood awakens."