The approach to the Citadel of Aerum was made under a clear blue sky, a biting irony given the political storm brewing there. The citadel was not a fortress in the traditional sense, but a vertiginous assembly of white towers and suspension bridges, clinging to the highest peaks of a mountainous archipelago. Here, the wind was not a nuisance, but the very lifeblood of the economy. Hundreds of celestial ships, carried by sails impregnated with aerone, sailed in and out in an endless ballet.
Lyall and Elara, having disembarked discreetly from the dark wind on a lower dock, ascended toward the High Council. Lyall felt the weight of his teral stone, a reassuring heaviness after his intensive training. He no longer saw the air as a void, but as a dense web of gravitational possibilities.
Elara, walking ahead of him, was tense. Her solis stone vibrated, picking up the city's whispers. "Vane has done a good job," she murmured. "I feel distrust everywhere. They see our coming not as liberation, but as a threat to their prosperity. Vane promises them the security of nexium; we bring them war."
They were ushered into the Chamber of Winds, Aerum's council hall. It was an immense, circular space, whose ceiling was a glass dome open to the sky. White stone balconies rose along the walls, and in the center, on a raised platform where natural air currents were channeled, sat the five Primates of Aerum.
Primate Aethel, an elderly man with wind-weathered skin, welcomed them with polite coldness. "The Lady of the Tide sends us volatile emissaries. Merikh Vane assures us that the market disruptions are your doing, acts of terrorist sabotage."
Elara stepped forward, her voice calm but projected by the room's perfect acoustics. "Merikh Vane is lying to you. He is not securing nexium; he is corrupting it to build an army capable of enslaving you."
She took out the shielded container recovered from Ithaca and opened it. Inside, a fragment of raw nexium pulsed with a sickly, unstable light. The contrast with the usual purity of the aerone stones worn by the Primates was striking.
"Here is Vane's 'security'," Elara continued. "Mass production, impure, designed for disposable weapons, not for the sustainable navigation that creates your wealth. If you accept his offer, you accept the end of your independence."
Aethel seemed to hesitate, his gaze shifting from the corrupted fragment to Lyall, who stood silent, a living anchor in this place dedicated to lightness.
It was at that instant that the sky above the dome darkened. Not by a cloud, but by an intent. Elara felt it a fraction of a second before impact.
"Lyall! Up high!"
The glass of the dome exploded in a shower of sharp debris. A black silhouette fell from the sky, crossing the space with supernatural speed. The walzer. He did not fall like a man; he glided on the air currents, landing soundlessly on the central platform, between Elara et the terrified Primates.
Aerum's guards drew their swords, but the walzer was already in motion. He was a storm of light but precise blows, using his aerone stone to pivot at impossible angles, repelling the guards effortlessly. His objective was clear: Elara, the voice of truth.
He leaped towards her, his body defying gravity, ready to strike.
Lyall did not wait. He did not charge. He closed his eyes for a microsecond, visualizing the space between the walzer and Elara. He did not strike the assassin's body. He struck the air in front of him.
He activated the off-center anchor.
A sphere of air three feet in diameter, located exactly on the walzer's flight path, suddenly became as dense as lead. The aelith, expecting to pass through a void, slammed into this invisible mass. The shock was violent. His momentum was broken clean, his perfect balance destroyed. He was thrown to the ground, rolling several yards before recovering, a look of total surprise on his masked face.
"Protect the Primates!" shouted Elara, stepping back to analyze the flow of combat.
The walzer, realizing his main target was out of immediate reach, changed tactics. He bounded toward the upper balconies, seeking height to regain the advantage. He moved from pillar to pillar, elusive.
"He's going left, towards the second balcony!" indicated Elara, her solis tracing the future trajectory.
Lyall anticipated. He projected a new zone of heaviness, not on the balcony, but into the void just before the ledge the walzer was aiming for. The assassin jumped, but instead of reaching his hold, his leg was snatched by the sudden gravity. He missed the ledge and fell heavily onto the marble floor of the chamber.
For the first time, the master of air seemed heavy, clumsy. Lyall stepped forward, his own step making the floor tremble, imposing his presence. The walzer stood up, wounded, his torn mask revealing a look of pure hatred. He attempted one last desperate attack, a direct charge.
Lyall was waiting for him. He did not use the off-center anchor. He used the classic anchor. The moment the walzer entered his contact zone, Lyall amplified his own mass and struck the ground with his fist. The gravitational shockwave struck the aelith's legs, pinning him to the ground under crushing pressure.
Silence fell again in the Chamber of Winds, broken only by the defeated assassin's labored breathing.
Primate Aethel stood up, pale but resolute. He looked at the immobilized walzer, the living proof of Vane's treachery.
"Merikh Vane sends assassins into our sacred chamber," Aethel declared, his voice trembling with anger. "There is no security in his offer. Only submissio0n."
He turned to Elara and Lyall. "Aerum will not submit. You have our fleet. You have our pact."
Lyall released the pressure. The walzer, though defeated, used the moment to activate one last aerone impulse, escaping through the broken dome in a humiliating retreat. But his mission was a total failure. The truth had burst forth, not through words, but by the weight of the anchor breaking the lightness of the lie.