The wind howled through the floating spires of Zephandrel, carrying the scent of burning parchment and crackling mana. Alden gripped the hilt of his stolen dagger, his breath ragged as he sprinted across the ivory bridges connecting the Grand Academy's towers. Behind him, the bells of pursuit rang—sharp, urgent, and merciless.
"Apprentice Everhart!" the voice of High Inquisitor Malrik Dain boomed through the city. "There is nowhere left to run."
Alden didn't stop. He couldn't. The prophecy burned in his mind, a truth too dangerous to leave behind. The heir of the Arcane Crown existed. And if Malrik was hunting him for reading it, that meant the ruling factions feared what it could mean.
But first, I have to survive.
Up ahead, the stone bridge arched toward the outer sky-docks. The floating city of Zephandrel was famous for its skyships—grand vessels of wood and steel, suspended in the air by enchanted cores of levistone. If he could reach one, he might escape.
The air crackled behind him. Alden barely had time to throw himself forward before a bolt of violet lightning struck the bridge where he had stood. The force shattered the stone, sending chunks of marble plummeting into the endless sky below.
He rolled onto his feet and glanced back.
Malrik Dain stood at the far end of the bridge, his dark crimson robes billowing in the wind. His silvered gauntlets pulsed with raw arcane energy, his amber eyes glowing with menace. Behind him, a dozen armored enforcers fanned out, blocking any retreat.
"You are meddling in affairs beyond your understanding, boy," Malrik called out. "Surrender the prophecy, and I promise you a painless end."
Alden swallowed hard. His mind raced. He was no warrior, barely an apprentice mage. If he fought, he'd die.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—a ship, moored at the very edge of the sky-docks. Its hull was obsidian-black, sleek and angular, marked with silver runes. And standing at its open gangplank was a woman clad in midnight leathers, her cloak whipping in the wind.
Seraphina Valcrest.
She met his gaze, then lifted a single hand in silent invitation.
Alden didn't hesitate. He turned and ran.
Malrik snarled and flung another bolt of lightning. Alden felt the heat sear past his shoulder, but he kept moving, his lungs burning as he reached the docks.
The enforcers were closing in. A pair of them cut across his path, blades drawn. Alden barely managed to duck beneath a sword swing, scrambling toward the waiting ship.
Seraphina moved in a blur. Her celestial blade flashed, cutting through the first enforcer's weapon like it was paper. With a flick of her wrist, she sent him sprawling off the dock. The second soldier hesitated just a moment too long—enough for Seraphina to plant a boot against his chest and kick him backward.
"Move!" she barked at Alden.
He didn't argue.
The deck shuddered beneath his feet as he stumbled aboard. From the ship's helm, a massive figure loomed over them—Kaelor Drakhan, his scaled dragonkin arms gripping the controls.
"Hold tight," Kaelor growled. "We're leaving."
With a deafening hum, the levistone core ignited. Runes flared along the ship's hull, and the entire vessel lurched as it tore free from its moorings.
Alden barely had time to register the sensation of falling before the ship surged forward, diving into the clouds below.
Behind them, Malrik's furious shout echoed into the storm.
But Alden had escaped.
For now.