The journey to the Spire was not marked by distance—it was marked by tension. Time felt twisted as they crossed forgotten lands soaked in arcane residue, where gravity occasionally reversed, and the sun blinked like a dying lantern.
The map Lira had decrypted from the Vault's runes pulsed with guiding light, embedded now in a shard of Kael's staff. With every step, the shard glowed brighter, like it hungered for the Spire.
They reached the edge of a vast rift valley known as The Skyfall Grave.
Above them loomed a needle-thin tower that stabbed into the sky like a bone thrust through the heavens. Clouds spun in unnatural spirals around its tip. Lightning endlessly struck the peak, but the Spire never crumbled.
"We're here," Kael said, eyes narrowed.
"It's… upside down," Lira whispered. "The top of the Spire is buried in the clouds, and the base floats above the valley?"
She was right.
The Spire defied gravity. It hovered above the chasm, inverted, like the world's laws had bent to allow it.
"The Spire was built during the First Cycle," Kael murmured. "To contain something... no, someone."
"Another Aspect?" Sera asked, drawing her blade.
"The Tempest."
A Living Storm
They crossed into the sky-suspended base using Kael's staff to bend gravity, stepping lightly across floating stones that formed a broken bridge mid-air. Lightning curled across the stone like veins. The closer they got, the more oppressive the atmosphere became.
Sera hissed. "The air's alive."
Indeed—it moved when they breathed. The wind seemed to whisper, pressing against their skin as though tasting them.
The gates of the Spire shuddered open of their own accord, revealing a cyclone of wind, water, and broken memory.
Then came the voice.
"WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLEEP?"
The wind exploded, knocking Lira back. Kael held his ground, staff anchoring him in place.
From within the swirling storm stepped a figure—young, no older than Kael. Her skin shimmered like the ocean under moonlight, and her silver hair floated despite the calm around her. Eyes of stormcloud gray crackled with lightning.
She was barefoot, dressed in silver and deep blue robes that hissed with static. Her presence shifted the air with every breath.
"I am Aeris Vale, the Tempest Reborn," she said, voice rippling through the storm. "Tell me, why should I not erase you from existence?"
Kael's Answer
Kael didn't flinch. He took a single step forward and spoke clearly.
"Because you're not a weapon. You're an Aspect. And we need you."
Aeris raised a brow. "Need me?"
"Nyx Solari stirs. The Choir of Dust is no longer just a cult—they're puppets of something far older. If we don't unite the Aspects before they do, this world won't survive another Collapse."
She tilted her head, storm crackling around her.
"And who made you the Herald of Balance?"
Kael raised the staff. "I did."
The Spire trembled.
Aeris blinked. Slowly, the storm eased around her.
"You still wear the weight of what you did," she said softly. "The last time you gathered us… we died."
Kael lowered his eyes. "That's why I'll make it right."
Joining the Fold
Silence.
Then Aeris sighed. The winds that surrounded her collapsed into a soft breeze.
> "Then I'll come," she said. "But if you falter again—if your memories start to rot your resolve—I'll scatter your bones to the sky myself."
Kael smiled faintly. "Fair enough."
She stepped beside him.
And just like that, the storm had a new direction.