The holographic projection on the deck of the Obsidian Leviathan flickered, struggling to maintain clarity against the sheer density of mana saturating the air.
Elian stood at the helm, gripping the wheel to steady himself against the ship's violent bucking. Around him, his team—Valen, Isara, Sylvia, and the others—stared up at the grainy image hovering in the air. The camera drone, operating miles away, was trembling, but it held the frame.
It showed the eye of the storm.
While the rest of the Aerie screamed under the pressure of the gale, the five-mile radius around the two Kings was terrifyingly silent.
To the West, Zephyr, the Sky-Father, floated with his four wings of white light spread wide. He looked like an angel of marble and gold, the apex of the Sky-Kin race.
To the East, Volcanis, the Storm King, hovered in the gloom.
He was not a Sky-Kin. Nor was he a beast like Glacius. He was a hybrid of nightmares—a Draconian. He stood seven feet tall, his human-like torso covered in thick, jagged obsidian scales. Massive, curved horns crowned his head, and a long, spined tail whipped behind him. He did not have feathered wings; instead, wings of raw, crackling crimson energy erupted from his shoulder blades, keeping him aloft.
They did not rush to kill one another. They drifted closer until they were mere meters apart, suspended over the endless drop of the floating continent.
"Audio," Elian commanded softly.
Sylvia adjusted a dial on her console. The static cleared, and a voice—deep, raspy, and sounding like magma bubbling in a throat—echoed through the ship's speakers.
"You look tired, Zephyr," Volcanis said. His slit-pupiled eyes burned not with hate, but with a weary recognition. "The crown weighs heavy on feathers."
"And you look like a nightmare, brother," Zephyr replied softly, his hands open, palms up in a gesture of peace. "The dark clouds have stained your scales."
Volcanis laughed, a dry, crackling sound that exposed rows of serrated teeth. He looked past Zephyr, toward the infinite horizon where the sun struggled to pierce the gloom.
"Do you remember?" Volcanis asked, his voice dropping to a whisper that the drone barely caught. "Before the crowns? Before you built this city of stone?"
Zephyr's expression softened. The blinding light of his aura dimmed, replaced by a nostalgic, golden hue.
"I remember," Zephyr whispered. "We were hatchlings. We traveled the currents of the Aether-Sea before we knew what borders were."
"We were a strange flock," Volcanis reminisced, a pained fondness entering his monstrous voice. "A bird, a dragon, a beast, and a spider. We traveled from the Iron-Root Isles to the Glacial Peaks. We thought this continent went on forever."
"We slept on the backs of Cloud-Whales," Zephyr nodded, closing his eyes as the memory washed over him. "We promised that the sky belonged to no one. That we would just... drift."
"But then we grew up," Volcanis spat, the nostalgia evaporating instantly, replaced by rising heat. "We carved up the land. You took the sky. The Spider took the dark caves below. I took the storm. And Glacius..."
Volcanis clenched his clawed fist. Thunder boomed in the distance, a sympathetic response to his rage.
"Glacius retreated to the peaks. He just wanted the quiet of the snow. He was the gentle one, despite his size."
Volcanis tapped his own chest, where a glowing red rune pulsed rhythmically against his black scales.
"I felt it, Zephyr," Volcanis whispered. "Ten days ago. The bond of the Four... it snapped. I felt the cold vanish from the world."
Zephyr went rigid. On the deck of the ship, Elian tightened his grip on the wheel.
"He didn't just die of old age," Volcanis hissed, drifting forward until he was only ten feet away from the Sky-Father. "A Yeti King does not vanish unless he is slaughtered."
"He chose the path of isolation," Zephyr said carefully, trying to choose words that would not ignite the atmosphere. "And in the wild... the isolated fall."
"To whom?" Volcanis roared. The sound shattered the silence, causing the clouds around them to swirl violently. "To whom does a Titan of Ice fall?!"
Zephyr remained silent. He could not lie, but he could not speak the name Eclipse.
"I heard a whisper," Volcanis hissed, his forked tongue flicking the air. "A voice in the static. It didn't have a face, but it knew things. It told me who broke the ice."
Volcanis leaned in, his face twisted in disgust.
"It told me it was a human."
The word dripped with venom. On the ship, Isara's hand went to her daggers.
"A groundling," Volcanis laughed, a sound devoid of humor. "A fleshy, wingless insect that crawls in the mud. The voice told me a human marched into the peaks and slaughtered our brother like livestock."
"It is complicated, Volcanis," Zephyr pleaded.
"The human... he offers us a connection to the lands beyond the sea. He brings change."
"He brings death!" Volcanis interrupted, pointing a jagged, armored finger at the Cloud Palace behind Zephyr. "I can smell him. I can smell the blood of the Yeti on his hands! And you... you shelter him?"
Volcanis looked at Zephyr with a heartbreaking mix of betrayal and fury.
"We explored this world together, Zephyr. We were kin, despite our blood. And now you protect the butcher of your own brother?"
"I protect the Aerie!" Zephyr shouted back, his aura flaring white. "Glacius chose stagnation! He froze his borders! This human is the key to uniting the continent! If we kill him, we remain isolated tribes forever!"
"I do not care about your politics!" Volcanis screamed, raising both hands. The crimson lightning in the clouds coalesced, swirling into his draconic palms. "I care that my brother is dead! And if you stand with the insect... then you will burn with him."
There was no more talking. The memory of the four young kings exploring the world together was incinerated.
Volcanis didn't cast a spell. He didn't chant.
He simply released his grief.
[Dragon Art: The Red Tear]
Volcanis swung his clawed arm down.
It wasn't a bolt of lightning. It was a tear in the atmosphere itself. A concentrated, vertical slash of crimson plasma, thin as a wire but hotter than the core of a star, erupted from the heavens. It carried the weight of a brother's mourning and the rage of a dragon.
It aimed to bisect Zephyr, the Palace, and the entire floating city in a single stroke.
Zephyr didn't dodge. He couldn't. If he moved, the city behind him would be sliced in half.
The Sky-Father slammed his hands together.
The white robes on his back shredded, revealing not four wings, but six—wings made of pure, compressed atmosphere.
[Sky-Kin Art: The Aegis of Heaven]
Zephyr thrust his palms forward.
The air in front of him solidified. It wasn't wind anymore; it was a solid wall of white pressure, density so high it warped the light around it.
BOOOOOOOOM.
The Red Tear collided with the Aegis.
The impact didn't just make a sound; it deleted sound. For a heartbeat, the entire world went deaf.
Then, the shockwave bloomed—a ring of destruction that cleared the clouds for ten miles in every direction.
In the center, Zephyr gritted his teeth, his arms shaking violently as he caught the strike. His feet slid backward on the air, sparks flying from his palms as he struggled to hold back the ocean of red fury pouring from his brother's hands.
The war for the continent had begun.