Aurelia Skylar had learned early that the only thing that mattered in the Lower Levels was survival. The floating cities above her were a distant dream, a myth whispered about by children who didn't know any better. To those who lived on the ground, the glittering spires were nothing more than a reminder of what had been lost. The rich lived above, untouched by the decay that consumed the world below.
She had stolen enough to survive, more than enough to keep her out of the reach of the city guards. But today, it felt different. The Skyshard in her pack was unlike anything she had ever come across. A piece of Aetherion, the very power that kept the floating cities afloat. And now, it was in her hands.
Aurelia sat on the edge of an abandoned rooftop, the wind whipping through her tangled hair as she gazed up at the sky. Above her, the storm clouds that had begun to form days ago were finally closing in, dark and threatening. The shard in her pack hummed softly, a pulse she could feel deep in her chest, like a heartbeat calling to her. She hadn't dared to look at it since she found it—something told her that the power within would change everything, and she wasn't sure she was ready for that.
She ran her fingers along the pack, feeling the cool edge of the shard through the fabric. What did it mean? Why had it called to her, of all people?
Suddenly, a distant rumble shook the ground, and she froze. The air seemed to shift, an electric hum that vibrated through her bones. Aurelia's eyes narrowed as she looked toward the source—Celestria. The storm clouds swirling above the city were growing thicker, more violent. And, somehow, she knew that the energy in the air wasn't just the storm. It was something else, something far older.
Something that had awakened.
Caius Vaelen stood in front of the grand window in the Vaelen Estate, gazing out at the storm. The night sky, once calm and serene, had been swallowed by dark clouds, twisting and churning with unnatural energy. It was as if the world itself was changing.
He had always known there was something wrong with the way things were. Raised in luxury and privilege, his family ruled Celestria, one of the floating cities that had risen above the chaos of the earth long ago. Yet, despite the grandeur of his surroundings, Caius often felt a restlessness in his chest—a pull toward something far greater than wealth or power.
He had always wondered about the Aetherion, the magic that kept the cities suspended in the sky. It was said to be a force older than time itself, but its origins were a mystery, even to the most learned scholars in the city. Caius himself had never cared to study it, preferring to focus on more immediate matters. But tonight, something had changed. He felt it in the very air, the hum of power vibrating through the walls of the estate.
A small, glowing crystal on his desk flickered to life, the Aetherion that had been passed down through his family for generations. Its glow pulsed steadily, like a heartbeat. But tonight, it throbbed with an intensity he had never felt before, and Caius's heart skipped a beat.
He could feel it now—something ancient, something dangerous, was waking. And he wasn't sure if he was ready for what was to come.
The sound of heavy footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Lady Verena, his mother, stepped into the room, her face tight with worry.
"Caius," she said, her voice laced with authority. "You felt it, didn't you?"
He nodded, his gaze still fixed on the storm outside.
"The power is rising," she continued, stepping closer. "The Skyshards—they're awakening."
Caius turned to face her, his brow furrowed. "The Skyshards? But… they were just legends."
"Not anymore," Verena said, her voice darkening. "There's more at stake than you realize. We must control them, Caius. The future of Celestria depends on it."
Aurelia didn't know why she had come here. The Lower Levels were a maze of crumbling buildings and forgotten streets, but somehow, her feet had carried her to the Ruins, a place that few dared enter. It was said to be cursed, haunted by the ghosts of those who had built the cities long ago.
But something pulled her here, something she couldn't explain. The shard in her pack throbbed as if it had a will of its own, urging her forward. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being drawn toward something—something important.
The wind howled, and Aurelia pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She crouched in front of a broken stone doorway, peering inside. The remains of an old temple stood before her, its walls etched with symbols she didn't recognize.
A sudden noise caught her attention. She whipped around, hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at her waist. But when she saw who it was, she froze.
A figure, cloaked and hooded, stood in the shadows. Their face hidden, but their eyes glowing faintly with an inner light that matched the pulse of the shard.
"Who are you?" Aurelia asked, her voice steady despite the sudden rush of fear that gripped her.
The figure stepped forward, and Aurelia's breath caught in her throat. They didn't speak—just held out a hand, as if beckoning her to come closer.
And Aurelia knew, with a sickening certainty, that her life had just changed forever.