Part 1: The Last Supply
The mooring lines were cast. The mana engine hummed, vibrating the deck plates.
"Orion, disengage the dock locks," Elian commanded from the helm.
"Wait! STOP!"
A desperate scream cut through the roar of the wind.
Elian signaled for a hold. Running down the long marble pier of the Cloud Palace was Luna. The Alchemist was stumbling, her robes stained with soot and medicinal herbs, clutching a heavy leather satchel to her chest. She was panting so hard she could barely stand.
"Luna?" Elian jumped over the railing, landing on the dock to catch her before she collapsed. "You should be with the King. Is he—"
"He's stable," Luna wheezed, shoving the satchel into Elian's chest. "But you... you idiots are going into a raid with zero healers."
She looked up, her thick glasses fogged with sweat.
"I knew," she whispered. "Back before the Iron-Root raid... I had a feeling we would end up in a mess like this. I brewed these in secret. I didn't think I'd have to use them so soon."
Elian opened the satchel. Inside were three types of vials, glowing with a density of mana that looked unstable.
"Take them," Luna ordered, pushing past him to the team gathered on the gangplank.
She began handing them out, moving with frantic speed. She shoved a set into the hands of every member: Valen, Jax, Roger, Isara, Lyra, Titan, Kael, and Prince Thal'dor.
She didn't stop there. She moved to the five Sky-Kin warriors standing in a protective semi-circle around the Prince.
These were not ordinary scouts. They were the Royal Talons—Thal'dor's personal guard, sworn to him since birth. They stood seven feet tall, their cerulean skin marked with white war-paint.
Unlike the bulky armor of knights, they wore sleek, articulated silver plating designed for aerial combat, and their long, braided hair was woven with hawk feathers.
There was Kaelen, the Prince's shield-brother. Vora, the wind-weaver. Draz, the heavy lancer. And the twins, Sark and Zuhl, who moved in perfect sync.
Luna pressed the vials into Kaelen's long, four-fingered hand.
"You keep him alive," Luna ordered, pointing a trembling finger at Thal'dor. "He's too heavy for me to carry back."
Kaelen bowed low, his fist over his heart. "While we draw breath, the Prince does not bleed."
Finally, she stopped in front of Sylvia Rain. The reporter was adjusting her camera drone, trying to look professional despite the danger. Luna grabbed her wrist and slapped the potions into her palm.
"And you," Luna snapped at the reporter. "If you die, the footage dies. Drink the red one if you even think you're going to pass out."
Sylvia blinked, clutching the warm vials against her chest. "U-understood."
Luna stepped back, looking at the assembled raid team—humans, dwarves, elves, and Sky-Kin.
"Listen to me!" Luna shouted, her voice cracking.
"The Red Vial is a [Life-Stamina Hybrid]. It heals 50% HP instantly and restores your stamina bar. Use it only when you can't lift your sword."
"The Blue Vial is [Mana-Coolant]. It restores Mana, but it also reduces Cooldowns by 30% for five minutes. Use it for your Ultimates."
"The Gold Vial..." Luna hesitated. "This is [Titan's Blood]. It's a Strengthening Potion. All stats +20%. But the crash after it wears off will leave you paralyzed for an hour. Do not drink this unless you are ending the fight."
Valen looked at the three small bottles in his massive hand. He realized Luna must have stayed awake for nights to brew something of this potency.
"Luna..." Valen started.
"Don't," Luna cut him off, stepping back onto the dock. She wiped her eyes. "Just come back. I can't heal a corpse."
She turned and ran back toward the palace, her job done.
Elian climbed back onto the ship, clutching his set.
"You heard her," Elian said, stowing the potions in his belt. "We have one extra life each. Don't waste it."
Part 2: The Iron Bird
"All clear on the dock!" Roger called out.
Elian nodded to the Dwarf near the engine room. "Kael. She's all yours."
Kael stood at the auxiliary control panel he had installed near the wheel. His hands were shaking. He was a master of the forge, a creature of the earth. He built armor, not birds.
"Alright, old girl," Kael muttered to the ship, patting the Aether-Glass plating. "Don't fall apart on me."
Kael pulled the vertical thrust lever. Slowly.
GRRR-HUMMM.
The Obsidian Leviathan didn't lurch; it groaned.
The anti-gravity runes Caelum had installed fought against the massive weight of the ironwood and the new glass armor.
"Stabilizers at 40%..." Kael watched the gauges, his eyes darting wildly. "Mana flow is turbulent... correcting... correcting..."
The ship rose ten feet. Then twenty. Then fifty.
It hovered over the Aerie, swaying slightly like a leaf in the wind.
"No structural fractures," Kael whispered, surprised. "The keel is holding."
He looked over the railing. The ground was far below. He looked at the horizon.
A manic grin spread across his bearded face.
"She holds!" Kael roared. "BY THE ANCESTORS, SHE FLIES!"
He slammed the throttle forward.
"BUCKLE UP, YOU SOFT-SKINNED IDIOTS! FULL SPEED AHEAD!"
BOOM.
The engine ignited. The ship didn't just move; it launched.
Kael threw his head back and laughed—a hysterical, high-pitched dwarven cackle that echoed over the wind. He was piloting a fortress through the sky, defying every law of his people.
"HAHAHA! LOOK AT ME! I AM THE KING OF THE CLOUDS!"
Titan held onto the mast, cheering with him.
"FASTER! FASTER!"
Part 3: The Wall of Night
Two hours later.
The laughter had died down.
The Obsidian Leviathan cut through the upper atmosphere at cruising speed. The air grew colder, and the golden light of the Aerie faded into a bruised, dark twilight.
"Captain," Roger's voice drifted down from the crow's nest. He wasn't joking anymore
"I have eyes on the target. 12 o'clock."
Elian walked to the prow.
Miles ahead, rising out of the sea of clouds like a jagged tombstone, was the Storm Lair.
It was a massive island completely shrouded in a wall of spinning black clouds. Crimson lightning—the remnant of Volcanis's power—arced across the barrier, striking the rock every few seconds with the force of a bomb. Even from this distance, the static made the hair on their arms stand up.
It looked impenetrable. A graveyard of thunder.
Elian turned to his team.
They stood on the deck, the wind whipping their cloaks.
Thal'dor was glowing with unstable white light, his new wings twitching nervously.
Valen checked his shield straps.
Jax spun his daggers.
Isara closed her eyes, tuning her hearing to the frequency of the mines.
Kael stood by the engine, ready to divert the lightning.
Kaelen and the Royal Talons checked their crystal spears, their blue skin shimmering in the faint light.
Sylvia adjusted her recording drone, her face pale but determined.
"Final check!" Elian commanded, his voice steady.
"Potions?"
"Secured!"
"Weapons?"
"Sharp!"
"Fear?"
"None!"
Elian drew Winter's Eclipse. The frost aura of the blade hissed against the humid air.
"Roger, eyes open. Isara, ears open. Kael, keep us fast."
Elian pointed his sword at the black wall of death approaching them.
"We are entering the domain of a dead God to kill a Snake. Do not blink."
"Take us in."