The crackling of firewood echoed softly in the cool air as dusk descended upon the floating island. Lanterns hung from wooden posts, casting golden halos across the small camp nestled at the edge of a forested cliff. A world above clouds… skies painted in purples and oranges… a sight that would've stolen his breath—if he hadn't already been too numb to feel anything.
He sat alone by the fire, wrapped in a soft, fur-lined blanket. The guards kept their distance, but their eyes never left him. Aeris had ordered them to give him space, though she remained seated nearby on a log, silently watching the flames. Her presence was calm, like snowfall in the middle of a storm.
He hadn't said a single word since they brought him here. No name. No story. Nothing.
And yet... she didn't push.
"You know," she finally said, her voice gentle, "You don't have to speak. But you do have to eat."
She handed him a bowl of warm stew. His hands trembled slightly as he took it. The scent hit him hard. It was real. So real. And so different from the rotten scraps he used to survive on.
He muttered a quiet "...thank you," barely audible.
Aeris raised a brow, faintly surprised, but said nothing. Instead, she smiled, just a little. "Progress."
He didn't know what day it was, or even what time truly meant in a world like this. But as days passed in that camp, something strange happened: he wasn't alone.
The guards—stoic as they were—slowly softened. One gave him extra bread. Another showed him how to light a fire. Small things.
Aeris remained the mystery among them. Her status was clearly high—too high to be out here like this. She wore it like armor, but not arrogance. Even in silence, she carried a kind of quiet sorrow that reminded him of... well, himself.
And that made her dangerous—to his heart.
He finally asked, on the third night, "Why did you save me?"
The question came out raw. She turned to him, eyes like frost under moonlight.
"Because no one else would have," she replied.
It struck him like a blade through silence.
By the fifth day, he'd learned the name of the floating island they were on: Sylvaria, a small one near the borders of a larger kingdom. This was Aeris's domain, or more accurately, her family's. The daughter of a noble family known for their control of Cryomancy—a bloodline of ice magic users, respected and feared.
Aeris herself, despite her title, didn't act like royalty. She laughed with her guards. She stitched her own cloak when it tore. And when he had a nightmare one night, thrashing and whispering for someone long gone, she was the first to reach him.
"You're safe," she whispered, placing her hand gently on his forehead. "No one's going to hurt you here."
He believed her. Not because he wanted to, but because—for once—he felt like someone meant it.
They began walking together on the sixth day.
Not far, just around the perimeter. She told him of the kingdoms floating above them, and the great flying ships that docked at the skyports. She spoke of dragons once tamed, of ancient crystals buried in the mountains that fueled magic, and the Academy where nobles were trained in combat and spellwork.
He listened quietly, soaking in every word like sunlight. It wasn't just a new world—it was a new song. One he'd never heard, yet somehow, it stirred something deep within.
He finally introduced himself on the seventh day.
"...I'm Lucien," he said, almost afraid of the sound of his name.
She smiled. "Lucien." The way she said it felt… real. Like it belonged to someone who deserved to be alive.
That night, as they sat near the cliff edge, overlooking the sea of stars below the island, Lucien turned to her.
"Why are you really out here? A noble like you, away from the safety of your house?"
Aeris was quiet for a moment, wind tugging at her silver hair.
"Because sometimes, the cage isn't in the walls," she said softly. "It's in your blood."
He understood more than she could know.
But the peace was short-lived.
On the eighth day, a letter arrived via sky hawk. Sealed with wax, marked with her family's crest.
Aeris's expression hardened as she read it. When Lucien asked, she simply said, "We're going home tomorrow."
"Will I be left here?" he asked, not sure what answer he feared more.
"No," she said without hesitation. "You're coming with me."
Lucien didn't sleep that night. He stood alone at the edge of the cliff, wind brushing through his hair, staring at the stars. A world so vast, so new. Yet his heart still felt like a broken instrument—silent, scarred.
But Aeris had offered him something more than safety.
She had offered him a place to begin again.