As dawn approached the capital of Altaris, the air felt frozen and silent. A thin mist wrapped around the tall white stone towers rising above the city, making them look like the shadows of giants still asleep. At the top of the tallest spire, a place called the Astralis Tower, a group of sky researchers gathered inside the observatory hall. Its walls were covered with star charts, spinning crystal orbs, and metallic instruments that reflected the flicker of candlelight. The air smelled of metal, oil, and old parchment. The night before, they had witnessed something inexplicable a burst of light appearing in the southern sky, so bright it erased the Orionis constellation for several seconds.
Master Ilren, head of the Astralis researchers, stood before a large table where a map scroll lay open. His hair was completely white, and his blue robe was stained with ink. Around him, his assistants hurriedly recorded the observations from that night. One of them, a young man named Saren, spoke in a trembling voice. "Master, that light… it appeared for twenty seven full seconds. Its intensity exceeded ninety one percent of all magical explosions recorded in the past century. But there was no mana residue in the atmosphere. Nothing remains."
Ilren slowly lifted his head. His eyes, dulled by age, still reflected a sharp intelligence. "No residue means it wasn't man made magic," he said flatly. "And if it wasn't human, then it was something else." He walked to the wide window and looked out. From there, he could see the whole of Altaris the palace in the center with its silver roof reflecting the first rays of morning sun, the cobbled streets beginning to fill with early traders, and the smoke rising from household chimneys. "Record the exact time," he said without turning. "Send the report to the palace. The King must know before morning ends."
Saren swallowed hard. "Master, are you certain this isn't an instrument error?"
"If it is, then the whole world made the same mistake," Ilren replied coldly. "The sky itself lit its fire last night."
The room fell silent. Only the sound of quills scratching against parchment remained. Outside, the sun rose completely, bathing the tower in golden light. Yet amid that calm brightness, every scholar there sensed something dark moving something that would shake the order of the world.
In the palace of Altaris, the great hall was filled with the heavy footsteps of guards and the rustle of noble robes. King Calevar sat upon a black stone throne, his long robe embroidered with gold threads. His face was firm but weary, lines of burden etched deep around his eyes the mark of years ruling a kingdom that had always stood on the edge of war. Before him, Master Ilren had just presented a sealed blue scroll.
"The explosion of light in the south," murmured King Calevar as he unrolled the document. "Are you certain this isn't some illusion?"
Ilren bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, every observatory from the northern watchtowers to the eastern coasts reported the same event. It cannot be coincidence. Even the western outposts claimed the sky turned to day for several seconds."
The King read every note carefully. "Coordinates?"
"Verdan Valley, Your Majesty," Ilren replied. "A secluded place, barely inhabited. But old legends say it was once where a sky stone fell, before the First War."
The King stared into space for a moment. "A sky stone…" he said softly, as if the words carried their own weight. "Tell me, Master Ilren—do you know what happened the last time the heavens fell to earth?"
Ilren lowered his head further. "I do, Your Majesty. The world nearly burned."
"And the kingdom rose from that ash," Calevar said sharply. "I will not allow history to repeat itself." His gaze shifted to the captain of the royal guard standing by the wall. "Summon Darian Korr."
In the southern courtyards of the palace, within the training grounds of the Skybind Order, the clash of metal filled the morning air. Soldiers in black armor moved with terrifying discipline. They were no ordinary force they were hunters of celestial power, an elite order trained to confront magic, spirits, and all forces beyond human comprehension. Among them, one figure stood out: Darian Korr.
He was tall, broad shouldered, his short black hair shadowing a face marked by faint scars that told stories of battles long past. His eyes were steel gray, sharp as blades. He wore a long black leather coat, and at his side hung a sword with a silvery blue blade the weapon known as Seraph Bane, said to cut through magic itself.
Darian was activating the Resonator, a small circular device strapped to his belt. It vibrated softly, emitting a faint hum that was barely audible. A nearby soldier glanced at him. "Still functioning properly, Commander?"
"It is," Darian replied curtly, his eyes fixed on the device. "But the more I hear it, the more I'm convinced this thing wasn't made by ordinary hands." He shut it off and looked toward the palace tower. "If the King's calling this early, it's not just another drill."
Sure enough, moments later, a royal messenger came sprinting into the courtyard. "Commander Darian Korr! The King summons you to the council chamber at once!"
Darian patted the soldier's shoulder. "End the drills. Ready the primary squad." Without waiting for a reply, he strode toward the palace—his steps steady, cold, and silent.
When he entered the throne room, King Calevar was already there with Master Ilren and two high nobles. Darian knelt, one hand across his chest. "Your Majesty."
"Rise, Darian," said the King. "We've received reports of a great light in the southern skies. A phenomenon unseen for a thousand years." He handed the report to him. "You will lead the investigation. I want to know what caused it—and who is responsible."
Darian unrolled the parchment and scanned it quickly. "Verdan Valley," he murmured. "I've heard of it from traveling merchants. Fertile land, often covered in fog. Barely inhabited except for a few shepherding families."
"And last night," Ilren added, "that valley became the epicenter of a surge powerful enough to shake the kingdom's mana grid."
Darian looked up calmly. "Is it a threat, Your Majesty?"
The King met his eyes directly. "Anything capable of lighting the heavens like day cannot be ignored. If it is power born without control, I want it contained. If it is someone… I want them brought back alive."
"And if it's not human?" Darian asked quietly.
The King paused before answering. "Then make sure the world never learns of it."
The words lingered heavily in the air. Darian bowed deeply. "Orders received, Your Majesty."
After the meeting, Darian walked through the long marble corridors of the palace, thoughts racing. He had heard stories of "sky spirits" in the old folktales luminous beings who once coexisted with humans before the First Great War. But those were myths, dismissed long ago. Something like that could not return… not to a world now built from steel and dust.
He stopped at a high balcony and looked south. Beyond the palace walls stretched an endless plain fading into the horizon. The morning wind carried the chill of rain. In the distance, faint flashes stirred within the clouds not lightning, but remnants of a glow that refused to die.
"If that truly was a sign from the heavens," he murmured, "then the world will change again."
Below him, the palace courtyard stirred with activity. The Skybind Order was preparing to depart, their black armor gleaming beneath the morning sun. Banners bearing the sigil of the winged eye rippled in the wind. The synchronized beat of boots and hooves echoed through the crisp air.
Darian descended into the courtyard, passing between the rows of assembled soldiers. "We march south," he commanded. "Supplies for a two week journey. No contact with civilians without approval. This mission is fully classified."
A young lieutenant raised his hand. "Commander, do we know what we're facing?"
Darian looked at him flatly. "No. That's why we're being sent."
The lieutenant swallowed hard and lowered his head. No one else spoke.
Elsewhere, deep beneath the palace, Master Ilren stood before an ancient artifact a massive silver crystal encased in glass. Its light pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. He touched the glass with the tip of his finger and muttered to himself, "The same energy… almost identical to the records of the first fallen Sky Guardian."
Footsteps echoed behind him. A woman in a black cloak emerged from the shadows the Royal Advisor, Lady Merath. Her face was beautiful but cold, her eyes sharp as blades. "Are you certain?" she asked softly.
Ilren nodded. "If it's true, then the light last night wasn't a natural phenomenon. It was the birth of something. Or a reawakening."
Merath studied the crystal for a long moment before speaking quietly. "The King will want control. But if this truly is a Sky Guardian… there's nothing anyone can control."
"In that case," Ilren whispered, "we are merely spectators to the end of an old chapter."
In the outer courtyard, the Order began to move. The thunder of hooves shook the ground, and the cold morning air filled with the sound of command whistles. Darian Korr rode at the front, face expressionless, mind focused on the south. Every mission like this carried the same feeling a chill deep in his chest, a sense that what awaited him was never a mere enemy.
The sky above was clear, but far in the distance a faint scar of light still lingered on the horizon, pale and ghostly. The soldiers saw it too, and some whispered softly among themselves. "Looks like a sign from the gods," one muttered.
"There are no gods," Darian replied sharply without turning. "Only forces we've yet to understand."
They rode south at a steady pace. The clatter of hooves, the jingle of armor, and the mountain winds merged into one endless rhythm. In Darian's heart, an unspoken question churned what truly awaited them in that mist shrouded valley?
The next night, in a small camp at the edge of the southern forests, Darian sat alone beside the fire. He held the Resonator, which now vibrated softly even though he hadn't activated it. Its pulse aligned perfectly with the direction of the south, toward where the light had appeared. He stared at it for a long time and murmured, "So, you feel it too…"
Above him, the stars seemed dimmer, as though outshone by the faint glow still hanging far beyond the horizon. The world itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting.
And in that cold night, Darian Korr knew one thing for certain this journey was no mere royal mission. It was the beginning of something far greater. A fire had ignited in the cold sky, and all who lived beneath it would soon feel its heat.
Meanwhile, far to the south, in the valley still wrapped in the remnants of mist and smoke, Lys Arven walked alone by the riverside unaware that from the north, the force destined to hunt him was already on the move. The sky above seemed calm, but the world never truly rested once the fire had fallen from the heavens. Something had changed and the wheels of fate had begun to turn.