Narrator's Voice:
The world remembers in fragments—etched into forgotten steel, buried beneath floating cities, whispered by winds that pass through broken time.
When bonds awaken, so do the watchers.
And the sky… begins to send its messengers.
Kael hadn't slept since the Pulselink surge.
Not from fear.
From clarity.
The world felt louder now. Colors looked sharper. He could feel the flow of energy in the wind. It wasn't just pressure or current—it was like something old, something sentient, humming behind the fabric of air itself.
Zayen had it worse.
Lightning now cracked from his fingers if he so much as sneezed. On one hand, it made cooking toast extremely efficient. On the other, it nearly burned their shack down—twice.
But today, something else shifted.
The sky was… buzzing.
Not metaphorically.
Physically.
"Do you hear that?" Kael asked, stepping outside.
Zayen nodded, already suited in his jacket, goggles pushed up on his head. "Like a skyship—but cleaner. No thruster echo."
Kael turned toward the east ridge, where the floating horizon shimmered. Clouds began splitting like paper soaked in ink, revealing streaks of light carving through the air.
Then he saw it.
Not a ship.
A whole citadel, flying.
It hovered in impossible silence—sleek, silver-gray, shaped like a sharpened crescent moon. Along its underside, rotating glyphs glowed faint blue, ancient and alive. The air crackled with static as it descended into view.
And then—
A soft pulse rippled from it.
Kael stumbled.
Zayen dropped to a knee, panting.
Their marks lit again.
The sketchbook Kael kept in his coat flared without being touched.
And then came the voices.
Two figures floated down from the citadel's platform, riding disks of energy. They landed gently, robes fluttering, eyes locked onto the brothers.
The first was tall, with a braid of dark green hair and an intricate coat laced in shimmering runes. A calm, confident presence. The second was shorter—sharp-eyed, smirking, with twin blades strapped to her back and boots that looked ready to kick someone off a cliff.
"You're the anomalies," the taller one said, stepping forward. His voice was smooth, but strange—like he spoke through layered air.
Zayen raised an eyebrow. "Nice to meet you too, stranger."
Kael didn't speak. He was staring at the girl.
She was staring back.
Her hair was a striking snow-white, cut short on one side, eyes gleaming silver like stormlit clouds. She tilted her head, expression unreadable.
"You saw the bridge, didn't you?" she asked Kael directly.
Kael's breath caught.
"How do you—?"
"Because I saw it, too."
Narrator (softly):
In a world stitched from remnants, destiny often rides hidden—disguised as strangers, cloaked in riddles, waiting for sparks to find their mirrors.
Their names, they later learned, were:
Eryn Vale – the white-haired girl, sharp and serious, whose mysterious visions align with Kael's. Rumored to dream in ancient symbols. Carries a pulseblade that hums with something older than sound.
Riven Korr – the tall one with runes etched on his coat. Speaks rarely, but when he does, things move. Zayen swears he saw a boulder shift when Riven blinked too hard.
They belonged to a wandering order called The Arcbound, a secretive faction that tracked "Resonants"—individuals chosen by the world's broken pulse.
"We came because you lit up a dead signal," Riven explained that night, sitting beside their fire.
"Like a beacon?" Kael asked.
"Like a threat," Eryn answered.
Kael couldn't stop glancing at her.
Not out of attraction—though he'd be lying if he said her voice didn't linger in his thoughts—but because something about her felt familiar. Not in memory. In soul.
"You saw it too, huh?" she whispered as they stood near the cliff.
"The bridge?" Kael said.
"No… the sky twitch," she replied. "Like it was about to scream."
Kael nodded slowly. "I thought I imagined that."
"Good. That means it's real."
They didn't smile.
But they didn't walk away either.
Meanwhile, Zayen was trying to convince Riven to teach him how to "blink-punch" a mountain.
Riven simply said, "No."
Zayen nodded. "That's fair."
By morning, their shack had been half-upgraded with stabilizers, solar conduits, and something Riven called a "sky tether."
Kael stared at it all. "What now?"
Eryn answered. "Now? You come with us."
"Why?"
"Because your sketchbook is drawing things that shouldn't exist. And it's not you doing it anymore."
Narrator's Voice (closing):
And so the quiet isle became the starting point.Not for war. Not for prophecy.
But for something rarer.
A bond shared across strangers, scars, and skies.
And a path toward truths the world tried to bury in silence