December 10
0730 Hours
Skies: Clear
The sun crept steadily over the horizon, casting a pale amber glow across the southern airbase.
Emilie sat at the edge of her bunk, fresh from the shower, already zipped into her olive-green flight suit. Damp hair clung faintly to her neck, and a thin fog still misted the lenses of her glasses resting on the desk beside her. She rubbed the fatigue from her eyes and exhaled slowly.
"With the President back in our hands," she muttered, "all that's left is to take down the Khemian."
She rose, slipping on her glasses and adjusting the straps of her G-suit before heading toward the mess hall. Her thoughts lingered on the fragments of intel they had.
"Radicals… Khaenri'ahn remnants trying to drag their country back into the old ways. One squadron in particular—Mechshade. Supposedly elite. Rumored to have an Ace among them… and black Khaenri'ahn sorcery involved."
She scoffed softly—not out of disbelief, but wary respect. This war had long since taught her not to dismiss what sounded impossible.
The mess hall was already alive with morning chaos—metal trays clattering on counters, boots thudding over tile, chairs scraping across concrete. The scent of instant coffee, powdered eggs, and reheated rations filled the air.
Cadets packed the room—many freshly transferred from North Dornman. Emilie, Teppei, Mona, and Ayaka had escorted them only a few days ago, and now the new blood was starting to fall into rhythm with base life.
At the center table, Emilie sat with Mualani, Mona, and Ayaka—steam curling up from half-eaten breakfasts and mugs fogging in front of them. Mualani leaned over her tray, chewing on a thick sandwich as she glanced sideways.
"Hey, Emilie—gotta ask you something," Mualani said between bites.
Emilie stabbed her fork into a lukewarm omelet. "Go for it."
"You go insane since the last time I saw you?"
Emilie huffed out a laugh. "Maybe? I dunno. Ever since I ended up leading the squadron, my brain's been running on afterburners. So yeah… no… maybe."
Mona chuckled. "You should've seen her lose her shit."
Emilie raised a brow. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"
Mona wagged a finger dramatically. "You might look like the nice one—but deep down? There's a demon under that helmet. Just waiting to come out."
Emilie nearly choked on her omelet, laughing and coughing at once. "Wh—What?!"
Ayaka nodded solemnly. "Like when you blew up at Teppei for talking shit."
Mona grinned. "Or when you lit me up after I got shot down."
Emilie pointed at Mona. "Hey, you getting shot down was on you. That was pure incompetence."
Then she turned to Ayaka. "And Teppei? I got mad because I had to pull his sorry ass out of the sky."
Her tone dipped, quieter. "I just… I wish I'd been able to do the same thing at Marcotte Stadium."
The table went still.
Ayaka lowered her gaze. "Don't carry that, Emilie. You know it wasn't your fault."
"Teppei sacrificed his life for Teyvat. You know that. Deep down, you do."
Emilie gave a small nod. "Yeah. I know."
Ayaka tried to lift the air again, smirking. "Besides… you flew without glasses once, remember? You blind bat."
Emilie flushed. "H-Hey!"
Mualani blinked. "Wh—What?!"
Mona crossed her arms, leaning back with a grin. "She did. North Dornman flight training—years ago. Emilie misplaced her glasses before prep. Room was a disaster, she was running late. So what does she do? Climbs into that F-5 Tiger II anyway—blind as a bat."
Ayaka laughed. "And still scored Ace in the simulated dogfight. Candace was stunned."
Emilie groaned, waving a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah. Not like that's some kind of badge of honor."
Mualani stared. "Are you serious?! Do you even need glasses?"
Emilie gave her a deadpan look. "Kinda essential. Helps with that whole 'flying at Mach 1.3 through SAM alley without dying' thing."
The mess hall doors suddenly swung open. An officer stepped in briskly, clipboard in hand.
"Wolfsba—" He caught himself. "Emberhowl. The President wants to see you."
The four pilots stood at once, trays clattering as they pushed back from the table.
Emilie gave a curt nod. "Understood."
Without another word, they filed out—boots echoing down the corridor toward the command bridge.
Emberhowl Squadron was now fully born.
At the Bridge
President Imena stood motionless, a single sheet of paper clenched in her hand. The low hum of the Arkhe's systems filled the silence, punctuated by the distant thrum of engines beneath the deck.
Emilie approached, her boots clicking softly against the metal floor. She cast a glance toward Captain Gracie at the console.
"Cap… what's going on?"
Gracie didn't look up. "We intercepted what looks like a cipher. Pure numbers. No message header, no identifiers—just digits."
Before Emilie could respond, Imena snapped her fingers.
"I've decoded it."
Her tone was sharp, focused—her eyes locked on the page.
"It's coordinates. A mountain range in northern Khaenri'ah."
She hesitated, studying the final string. Her expression darkened.
"And the last numbers…"
She tapped the line.
"They're my presidential vote counts."
Her voice dropped to a quiet disbelief.
"These were the numbers from my first election."
She traced the next set with her finger. "And these… from my second."
A cold realization settled over the room.
"This message," she said, looking up at the pilots, "was meant for me."
No one spoke. The hum of the bridge seemed to grow heavier.
Imena turned to Gracie. "Get Kaeya on this immediately. I want a full trace on that cipher. And prepare a flight plan."
She drew a breath, her voice steel again. "Looks like our Wolf—" she caught herself, correcting, "—our Emberhowl Squadron has another mission."
Gracie gave a crisp nod. "Understood, Madam President."
Imena turned to the four pilots.
"Emilie. Mona. Mualani. Ayaka. With me—to the hangars."
Without a word, they followed. The echo of boots against steel followed them down the winding stairwell to the lower decks, the metallic reverberation blending with the distant hum of carrier machinery.
At the Hangar
They stepped into the cavernous hangar bay. The floodlights blazed down on four jet-black F-14A Tomcats—sleek, predatory silhouettes gleaming under the overhead lamps.
But there was something different.
Each Tomcat bore a new emblem.
Emilie slowed as she neared her own aircraft, eyes catching the bold insignia painted across the tail fin.
"…Whoa."
It was a shield.
At its heart—a black-winged figure in a knight's open-faced helm, hair swept back in a wild mane. The Demon of Emberhowl.
Above it, in stark white letters:
THE GHOSTS OF EMBERHOWL
Below, in blood-red text:
EMBERHOWL AIR COMMAND SQUADRON
Imena raised her hand, motioning the four to stand before Emilie's jet.
They formed a line, shoulders squared, eyes front.
Her voice rang clear over the echoing hangar.
"All pilots on deck."
The quartet snapped to attention.
Imena began.
"From this day forward, until this war is over, the four of you are under my direct command—and that of the Arkhe."
She paused, letting the words settle.
"Officially, you now belong to a separate branch within the air fleet—an extension of my personal authority. You are my sword in the skies."
She paced slowly before them.
"You'll be tasked with covert operations. Missions the world will never hear about. Missions that will decide the course of this war."
Her tone hardened.
"But once the war ends—until your names are cleared—you will no longer fly under the Air Force banner."
A beat of silence.
"You won't be dishonorably discharged. Quite the opposite—you'll receive full honors. But from this moment on…"
Her eyes met each of theirs in turn.
"…you are ghosts."
She stopped before Ayaka.
"Second Lieutenant Kamisato Ayaka."
Ayaka straightened instantly. "Ma'am."
Imena nodded. "Considering your squadmates all hold the rank of Captain, I'm authorizing a field promotion."
She stepped closer, voice firm.
"As of now—you are Captain Kamisato Ayaka."
Ayaka's eyes widened, but she nodded sharply. "Understood, Madam President."
Imena's gaze swept over the four pilots.
"I trust you to end this war."
She turned slightly, her tone lowering to a near whisper.
"The squadron from Petrichor Island will remain listed as killed in action. Official reports will confirm you were shot down over hostile territory."
She faced them again.
"But from this moment forward… you are something else."
The echo of her words seemed to linger in the hangar's vast silence.
"You are now—the Ghosts of Emberhowl."