Lightning scars still burned across Kael's arms as he climbed the floating steps toward the Tempest Citadel's upper layers.
Each step hovered over empty sky, connected by nothing but thin arcs of condensed wind that hummed under their feet.
The air here was thin.
Cold.
Alive with pressure.
Riven walked behind Kael, blade drawn, expression storm-dark.
Mr. Han leaned on the railing of wind, still weak but determined to move.
Below them, the entire sky-floor stretched endlessly—
towers spiraling upward, platforms drifting like islands in a sea of clouds,
and thousands of wind-born creatures gliding between the structures like predators in open water.
Every one of them paused whenever Kael passed.
Watched.
Then fled.
Riven muttered grimly,
"They sense the imprint. They won't come close."
Kael didn't look back.
His fractured shadow rippled behind him, trailing like a delayed echo.
"We need a purification shrine," Kael said.
"For Mr. Han."
Riven nodded.
"Then we go to the Guardian Spire.
Every sky-floor has one. And with Veyra showing up here herself…"
Her jaw tightened.
"The Spire here will not be ordinary."
Mr. Han coughed weakly.
"My boy… I don't want you risking this entire floor just for me."
Kael stopped walking.
Turned.
He spoke softly, but his eyes were steel.
"You kept me alive on Floor Six.
You're the reason I lived long enough to awaken."
Mr. Han blinked in surprise.
"You remember that?"
Kael nodded.
"I remember everything."
Riven cleared her throat roughly.
"Touching. Beautiful. Completely unhelpful.
Because we're being watched."
Kael frowned.
"By who?"
Riven pointed upward.
Kael followed her gaze.
Perched on the side of a massive tower—
barely a silhouette against the swirling storm—
was a creature twice his size, made of condensed wind and feathers sharper than steel.
Its eyes glowed white.
Lightning crackled along its wings.
A Windborn Sentinel.
The lowest guardians of the Spire.
But still stronger than most Hunters.
Riven's voice dropped.
"If one is stalking us this early, the Spire's guardian already knows you're coming."
Kael raised his hand—but Riven slapped his arm down immediately.
"No.
Do NOT attack it.
You'll attract a flock."
Kael let his arm drop.
But the Sentinel didn't flee.
It simply watched—
like a scout memorizing their movements.
Then it vanished into the storm with a crack of wind.
Kael felt the Dominion inside him stir at the challenge.
Riven felt it too. She stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
"Kael. You need to hear me."
Kael raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"You just survived a Monarch.
You just sat on a throne that kills living Monarchs.
You awakened a half-formed imprint.
You are not stable."
Kael said nothing.
His silence made Riven grit her teeth.
"You charge ahead like you're invincible. But you're not.
You get sloppy now, and everything from here on will kill you."
Kael looked at her.
Really looked.
Riven's eyes were the eyes of someone who had seen too many Monarchs die.
Someone who had watched power corrupt.
Someone terrified that she was watching another Shard King rise too fast and too blind.
Kael exhaled.
"I hear you."
Riven blinked.
"You… do?"
Kael nodded.
"I know I'm changing.
I know the imprint is growing.
I know everything I do from here on needs control."
His voice dropped.
"And I know Veyra didn't actually try to kill me.
Just test how far I could go."
Riven rubbed her forehead.
"Yes.
Which is terrifying in its own way."
Mr. Han sighed.
"Can we please just find that shrine before my heart stops?"
A faint pulse of warmth touched Kael's senses—
a ripple in the air, like distant bells ringing.
Purification energy.
He pointed toward a spire far above them.
"It's there."
Riven groaned.
"Of course it is. The highest tower on the entire floor."
Kael began ascending another floating staircase.
Then stopped.
Something was wrong.
The sky grew dim.
Too dim.
Clouds began to darken.
Lightning gathered in spirals.
Wind stilled completely.
Riven's breath froze.
"No. No, no—this isn't natural—"
Kael felt it.
A pressure.
One he had felt only twice before:
in the Convergence
and in the Vault
A Monarch's presence.
But not Veyra.
This one was heavier.
Colder.
Sharper.
A voice drifted through the thickening storm.
Soft.
Amused.
Horrifically calm.
"So this is the heir."
Kael's blood chilled.
The clouds tore open.
A figure descended through the sky—
wrapped in black feathers
crowned with a halo of floating blades
eyes like twin shards of obsidian
Riven whispered in horror,
"Kael…
I think…
that's not a Monarch."
Kael swallowed.
Then said the truth out loud.
"No.
That's something worse."
The figure landed silently on the spire's edge.
The air around him died.
"I am Seryn," the figure said.
"First Blade of the Eleven."
Kael froze.
The Eleven.
The Monarchs who killed the Fractured King.
Riven staggered back.
"No… no… why is one of them HERE—?!"
Seryn looked at Kael calmly.
"We felt the throne awaken."
His eyes sharpened.
"And we felt you sit on it."
Kael couldn't breathe.
The air around Seryn was too thin.
Too sharp.
Like every breath cut him.
Mr. Han collapsed again, barely conscious.
Kael stepped forward instinctively—protecting him.
Seryn tilted his head.
"Good.
You inherited his defiance."
The halo of blades behind him began to spin.
Slowly.
Hungrily.
Riven drew her blade in pure panic.
"Kael, RUN.
Now.
We cannot survive this!"
Kael didn't run.
He felt the throne's imprint rise behind him.
The shadow stretched tall, crowned, reacting to the presence of its killers.
Seryn's eyes flicked toward it.
And for the first time—
he smiled.
"So the dead king still clings to a vessel."
He spread his arms.
"Wonderful."
Wind split open.
Power gathered enough to crush floors.
"Let me finish what we started."
Kael raised his hand.
His shards ignited.
His Dominion roared.
And the First Blade of the Eleven descended to kill him.