The wind no longer whispered.
It screamed.
As Rael and his companions crossed the threshold into the Stormvault Expanse, the world above them fractured like glass. Islands of stone floated mid-air, chained only by tendrils of divine energy. Lightning forked sideways, coiling into spirals that refused the rules of nature. Even the stars twisted overhead, shifting positions as if aware of the intruders below.
There was no ground in the traditional sense — only ancient platforms levitating across invisible currents. Beneath them, there was no true horizon, only stormclouds that churned like oceans and echoed with voices long silenced.
Rael stared up at the heavens. One massive shard of sky, suspended above all others, pulsed faintly — like a heartbeat trying to remember its rhythm.
Laria shielded her eyes. "This place was once sacred."
Rael followed her gaze. "The heavens don't look sacred anymore."
"They're bleeding," Nyssira whispered. "Reality doesn't hold here. It's being torn apart slowly."
They crossed a series of broken arches, remnants of bridges carved from sky-crystal. Sometimes their feet touched stone. Other times, they drifted slightly mid-air, the pull of gravity warping under their steps. Lightning didn't strike here — it danced lazily, flowing across the aether like rivers in the sky.
Selene narrowed her eyes. "This whole place feels like a god's fever dream."
Laria touched a pillar engraved with glowing runes. "This is the Ruins of Volundar. A sky-city once tethered to celestial ley lines. It fell in an hour when its goddess — Vaelyra — gave herself to the Sundering."
"Gave herself?" Rael asked.
"She sacrificed her divinity," Laria murmured. "To stabilize the upper veil. It didn't work."
They arrived at a large outcropping — a jagged plateau overlooking a spiraling vortex of storms. At its center floated the monolith: an obsidian shard wrapped in lightning and silver flame.
"The tenth seed," Rael breathed.
It pulsed like something asleep — or trying not to awaken.
As they watched, the swirling aether parted briefly. Within the shard, something moved.
Not a figure. Not a creature.
An eye.
Ancient. Vast. Aware.
Then it blinked — and vanished.
Camp was made in the broken atrium of a ruined temple, its roof half-sheared by storms. Ancient murals still clung to the walls, depicting gods dancing across firmament. Some faces had been defaced. Others had faded entirely.
Laria sat quietly by a fractured mural of Vaelyra — the Goddess of Illumination — whose outstretched hands once held chains of starlight. Now only the chains remained.
Rael approached without a word.
"She was kind," Laria said softly. "Not gentle. But kind. She believed in memory. That no soul should be forgotten."
"She's not forgotten," Rael replied.
"She is," Laria whispered. "Because I let them erase her. I didn't speak when I should have. I wore silence like armor and called it faith."
He sat beside her. "That's not weakness. That's survival."
"I don't want to survive anymore," she said. "I want to mean something. For her. For you."
Rael took her hand. "You already do."
Laria turned to him. Her lips parted — not for a prayer, but for a kiss. Their mouths met with slow certainty. When they pulled apart, she didn't speak. She just rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes.
Selene watched from the temple edge, arms folded, biting the inside of her cheek.
Later that night, she cornered Rael beneath an arch of twisted stone, half-shadowed by stars.
"You're getting poetic with your priestesses now?" she teased, voice half-playful, half-tense.
Rael didn't flinch. "Jealousy doesn't suit you."
"Who said I'm jealous?" she smirked.
"You wear it like your second dagger."
She stepped closer, eyes glittering. "Then maybe I should use it."
He leaned in, voice low. "You already left your mark."
Her breath caught.
And then she kissed him — hard, fierce, hungry.
When they parted, she whispered, "Don't forget who your wild one is."
"Never," he murmured.
The next morning, the storm intensified.
From their vantage point, the shard pulsed violently, and the air thickened with tension. Above them, the sky twisted into a spiral — a vortex of stars, lightning, and raw aether.
"The convergence," Laria said. "A celestial alignment that opens passage to suspended realms. The shard will only remain for one hour."
Nyssira stood tense. "And whatever's watching from within… will awaken."
As Rael stepped toward the cliff's edge, the air turned cold.
And then he arrived.
A man floated silently several meters away — not walking, not flying, but existing. Pale white robes wrapped his form. Sigils of divine law spiraled across his skin. His eyes were like obsidian marble — emotionless, immovable.
"Zehron," Rael said. "God of Divine Order."
The others drew weapons. Selene stepped forward.
"Want me to carve that law off his face?"
"No," Rael said sharply. "He didn't come to fight."
Zehron said nothing.
He simply stared — and the world bent subtly around him.
Rael felt it then — not pressure, not malice, but inevitability. Like standing in front of a falling mountain and knowing it wouldn't stop.
Zehron raised a single hand.
A sigil flared — not of power, but warning.
"Three doors remain."
His voice was not heard — it was etched into their bones.
"Why are you here?" Rael asked.
"To see if you fear judgment."
Rael stepped forward, eyes steady. "I don't fear gods."
Zehron tilted his head. "You will. Soon."
Then he vanished — dissipating into strands of law, leaving only silence.
Back in the temple, Kessai cracked her knuckles. "I don't like being threatened."
Shaevari paced the edge of the platform. "They're not threatening. They're calculating. He didn't come to stop us. He came to confirm something."
"That Rael can't be ignored," Nyssira said.
Rael remained quiet, his gaze fixed on the shard above.
That evening, as the stars aligned and the seed pulsed like a beacon, Rael stood alone again.
Laria joined him, cloaked in ceremonial silk she'd found among the ruined relics.
"If I die in the storm," she said, "promise me something."
"You won't."
"Promise me," she repeated.
Rael met her eyes. "I will remember you. Always."
She smiled. "Then I have nothing to fear."
He held her hand.
And above them, the shard cracked — light spilling from the wound.
The sky was breaking.
And the next door waited to be opened.