The floating city of Varn shimmered above the clouds like a crown of crystal and gold. Suspended on ancient levitation wards, it drifted slowly across the skies, tethered to no nation, ruled by no king—only the Skyborne Throne and its queen.
To most of the world, Varn was a miracle of old magic. Untouchable. Free.
To Ael, it was the next battlefield.
From the deck of the airship Starwind, he watched the great city approach. White towers spiraled upward, connected by glowing bridges and walkways of translucent light. Below them, the earth stretched out, far removed, as if it no longer mattered.
Elric adjusted the course, guiding the ship toward the entry ring. "We'll be intercepted soon. Varn doesn't allow unsanctioned landings."
Arienne stood by the railing, arms folded. "So we fight our way in?"
"No," Ael replied. "We're not enemies. Yet."
Elric nodded. "Queen Altheira is known for diplomacy. If we can explain the danger of the Crimson Choir—"
Lyra cut him off. "Assuming she hasn't already made a deal with them."
A tense silence followed.
Ael remained still.
If the Queen of Varn had indeed allied with the Crimson Choir, then this visit would not be diplomatic.
It would be war.
—
The airship was met by three Skyward Sentinels—guards in gleaming armor borne aloft by wings of enchanted mist. One landed on the deck, face hidden behind a crystal helm.
"I greet you in the name of Her Radiance, Queen Altheira of Varn. State your names and purpose."
Ael stepped forward. "I am Ael, once king of a fallen empire. We seek audience with the Queen. Urgently."
The Sentinel's eyes pulsed blue behind his helm. A flicker of magical scan.
A moment later, he froze.
His tone shifted. "You… are the Hollow King."
Whispers passed between the other Sentinels.
The one on deck bowed sharply. "The Queen has already requested your presence."
Ael raised an eyebrow.
"She's expecting us?"
"She has been… waiting," the Sentinel said.
Arienne muttered, "That's not ominous at all."
—
They were escorted into the heart of the floating palace—a gleaming citadel of crystal and flowing aether. The city felt alive, as though the walls breathed. Lights danced across the floors, responding to the footsteps of visitors.
The throne chamber was vast, open to the sky. At its center sat Queen Altheira on a floating dais, her gown shimmering like liquid moonlight.
She was beautiful—inhumanly so.
But her eyes were tired.
And old.
Older than they should be.
"Ael," she said softly, voice like silver bells. "You've come."
Ael stepped forward, unreadable. "How did you know?"
"I saw it in the Skyglass. And in dreams. Your presence shakes the world. The winds themselves whisper your name."
Arienne whispered behind him, "Prophet queen, lovely."
Ael ignored her. "Do you still rule Varn?"
Altheira smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I sit upon the throne, but I no longer rule. Varn made its choice."
She raised her hand.
Chains of light slithered down from the sky.
And dozens of Crimson Choir cultists stepped from the shadows—veiled, armed, waiting.
Ael drew his sword. "So it's true."
Altheira's voice trembled. "I did not invite them. They came with gifts. Promises. Power to keep Varn afloat. They threatened to break the core."
Elric hissed, "The Skyward Core—if that falls, the entire city would crash."
"They used our fear against us," she whispered. "And I was too weak to stop them."
Lyra raised her blades. "We don't care about your excuses. Just tell us where they are."
Altheira looked at Ael, eyes shining. "In the Spire of Stars. They're preparing another summoning. A greater voice this time. They think the height of the sky will open a clearer path to the void."
Ael's grip tightened. "Then we'll stop them."
"No," the queen said suddenly. "You don't understand. The Spire is shielded. Anyone not bearing the Choir's mark cannot enter."
"So we carve our way through," Arienne said.
But Altheira's gaze remained on Ael. "Or… you let me guide you."
Ael's eyes narrowed. "You want to help us now?"
"I want to be free," she whispered. "And I want to save what's left of my city. I've seen the end. In every path, Varn falls. But in one… you stand atop the Spire. Holding both blades."
Elric froze. "Both?"
Ael's breath hitched.
The Queen nodded.
"There's another blade hidden within the Spire. The twin of the one you carry. The Blade of Silence… and the Blade of Echoes."
Arienne glanced at him. "Sounds like fate is playing dice again."
"No," Ael said quietly. "It's drawing a sword."