The air smelled of grease and iron.
Kael wiped sweat from his brow as he crouched beneath the hulking engine of a broken-down skiff, his hands blackened with oil. The rhythmic clang of his hammer echoed through the cramped workshop, each strike precise and deliberate. Around him, the sounds of Skyfall—creaking ropes, distant shouts, and the whistling wind—filtered through cracks in the dusty wooden walls.
Skyfall was little more than a forgotten village perched on the edge of a floating realm. It clung to the side of a jagged cliff like a stubborn weed, its homes built from scavenged wood and patched sails. Beneath it, the clouds churned endlessly, their depths rumored to swallow anything—and anyone—that dared to fall.
For Kael, Skyfall was all he had ever known. It was a place of small lives and smaller dreams, where people worked to survive and little more. He spent his days fixing engines and airship scraps, his nimble hands earning him a reputation as a gifted mechanic. But for all his skill, there was no escaping the whispers that followed him.
"Orphan boy."
"Cursed."
"Mother died in the storms. No one knows who his father was."
Kael ignored them. He had learned long ago that silence was his best defense. He kept to his workshop, to his tools, to the endless hum of machinery that spoke in ways people never could. Machines were predictable. People were not.
A sharp voice jolted him from his thoughts.
"Kael! You deaf, boy? I said I need that skiff ready before sundown!"
Old man Toren leaned in the doorway, his grizzled face twisted into its usual scowl. Kael straightened and nodded, keeping his gaze down. "Almost done."
"Almost done isn't done. Hurry it up. The merchant ship's leaving with or without this rust bucket."
Toren disappeared back into the blinding sunlight, muttering curses under his breath. Kael let out a sigh and returned to his work. His mind wandered, as it often did, to the sky beyond the realm's edge. He'd seen airships rise and vanish into the clouds, their sails billowing with promise. The sight tugged at something deep inside him—a yearning he couldn't name.
Sometimes, he dreamed of what lay beyond the clouds. Other realms. Cities of gold. Skies filled with wonders. But dreaming was a fool's game in Skyfall. The world didn't have space for people like Kael to hope.
The distant boom of thunder rumbled through the walls, rattling the tools on the workbench. Kael paused, glancing toward the workshop's small window. Dark clouds were gathering on the horizon, creeping toward Skyfall like a rising tide. Storms were nothing new, but this one felt... strange. The wind carried a faint hum, like a low vibration just beneath the surface of the world.
Kael shook his head and forced his focus back to the engine. He didn't have time for strange feelings or daydreams. Work came first.
Hours passed before Kael finally stepped back, wiping his hands on a rag as he admired his work. The skiff's engine purred softly, its gears moving in perfect harmony. Kael allowed himself a small smile. This was what he loved—the quiet satisfaction of fixing something broken.
As he closed the workshop for the day, the wind howled through the narrow alleys of Skyfall, carrying the scent of rain and something else... something sharp and metallic. Kael frowned and glanced up at the sky. The dark clouds were closer now, swirling unnaturally as streaks of red lightning crackled through their depths.
People were gathering in the streets, pointing and whispering nervously. Kael's chest tightened. He had never seen a storm like this.
"Kael!"
He turned to see Mira, the baker's daughter, running toward him, her face pale. "Did you hear? Raiders are coming!"
The words hit him like a blow. Raiders. Skyfall was too small, too poor to draw attention. But no one could mistake the smoke rising on the horizon or the distant glint of sails cutting through the clouds.
"Get inside, Mira," Kael said, his voice calm despite the knot twisting in his gut.
"But—"
"Go!"
Mira hesitated, then ran back toward her family's shop. Around him, the village erupted into chaos. People shouted, grabbed what little they could carry, and fled toward the cliffs. The raiders would be here soon, and everyone in Skyfall knew what that meant: death, destruction, or worse.
Kael stood frozen, staring at the horizon. The hum in the air had grown louder, a deep vibration that he could feel in his bones. He turned toward the cliffs, where the earth dipped into a wide, ancient fissure that no one dared approach.
Something called to him.
For as long as Kael could remember, that place had been forbidden. It was where the wind screamed loudest, where the villagers whispered of curses and lost souls. But now, with the world crumbling around him, the pull was impossible to ignore.
Heart pounding, Kael grabbed a lantern and sprinted toward the fissure. The wind roared in his ears, and the hum grew deafening. As he reached the edge, he stared down into the darkness below.
There, half-buried in the earth, something glowed. A shard of brilliant gold, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Kael's breath caught in his throat. He had no name for it, no understanding of what it was, but he knew one thing for certain: it was waiting for him.
The first raindrops fell as Kael stepped over the edge and into the dark.