The storms began two days after they left Halvspire.
At first it was only static in the air—hairs rising, whispers flickering through the grass when Aric passed. But by the time they reached the northern plains, the sky had fractured into veins of green fire. Each bolt lingered too long, spreading in spiderweb arcs before collapsing into silence.
The world felt weightless. Pebbles floated a hand's breadth above the ground, drifting lazily like ash in slow wind. Rivers curved upward before falling again. Even sound carried strangely, echoing without source.
Eira checked her compass for the fifth time. "Magnetics are gone. Every field is bending toward that storm front."
Ahead, the clouds pulsed in rhythm, bright veins cutting through a band of darkness that stretched from horizon to horizon. The Shattered Sky.
Aric stopped on the ridge, watching the storm breathe. The shard in his chest throbbed with it, pulse for pulse. "That's where it's leading us."
Brann spat into the dust. "Good. I was getting bored of gravity working."
Serae gave him a sideways look. "You're joking while rocks are floating. How comforting."
Kaen Drav and his wild hunters followed at a distance, their makeshift banners catching the strange wind. None of them spoke much since Halvspire. They followed Aric now out of belief, or fear, or both.
---
By midday, the storm grew near enough that the air tasted of iron and ozone. The light turned green, casting everything in ghostly glow. Lightning didn't strike—it hung, suspended, veins pulsing through the clouds like the beating heart of a god.
Eira shaded her eyes. "We shouldn't be this close. The resonance is peaking. Even your shard—"
Aric cut her off gently. "I know."
He could feel it calling him deeper. It wasn't pain, just inevitability—like gravity, only stronger.
They pressed on, tethering themselves with resonance ropes. Each step forward pulled them slightly off the ground, as if the world below were exhaling. When thunder finally came, it wasn't sound but a vibration through the bones—one long, low note that seemed to come from within the earth itself.
Serae's voice was small against the hum. "This doesn't feel like weather."
"It isn't," Aric said. "It's memory."
---
The first Skyrend Behemoth appeared as a shadow within the lightning—a mountain-sized shape gliding through the clouds. Its translucent body shimmered with shifting constellations, wings like glass reefs catching the stormlight.
Brann whispered, "That's not possible."
Eira's voice trembled. "If it's alive, it's older than the Hollowing."
The creature passed overhead, slow and silent. A second followed, then a third—graceful, weightless, leaving trails of glowing dust.
The fourth was different. Its light flickered unevenly, and where the others sang low tones that resonated through the air, this one screamed. Its form twisted, half-collapsing, leaking red resonance like blood.
Kaen shouted, "It's falling!"
The Behemoth dipped low, trailing ribbons of energy. When it struck the plain, the shockwave scattered the tether lines. The hunters were thrown into the air like leaves.
Aric hit the ground and rolled, his ears ringing. The sky itself seemed to roar as the corrupted Behemoth reared, its body shedding molten fragments. Its voice tore through the resonance: "BROKEN... UNBOUND..."
---
"Positions!" Brann roared, driving anchors into the ground. Eira fired stabilizers that pulsed light through the air, creating zones of stillness amid the chaos.
Serae drew her bow, aiming upward. "We'll never bring it down from here!"
Aric tightened his grip on his blades. "Then we climb."
He sprinted toward the storm wall. Each step launched him higher as gravity faltered. Shards of stone and debris floated around him, forming a staircase of chance. Lightning burned overhead; resonance flared under his skin.
The Behemoth turned, its massive head sweeping toward him. Aric leapt, landing on its hide. Heat surged through his boots. The creature's scales were translucent, showing rivers of energy coursing beneath.
He drove his sword in and felt the shard in his chest answer—light to light. The creature screamed again, not in anger but agony. Images flashed in his mind: the world before the Hollowing, endless skies, herds of Behemoths drifting through dawn. The storm had been their cradle, not their prison.
He understood. It wasn't attacking them. It was dying.
"Eira!" he shouted through the resonance. "Redirect the stabilizers! Anchor its core!"
From below, her voice answered through static. "On it!"
Pillars of light fired upward, tethering the Behemoth in place. The storm bent around them, swirling into a luminous vortex. Aric pressed both blades against the creature's chest and whispered, "Rest."
The resonance surged once, then stilled. The Behemoth's body dissolved into a cloud of glittering fragments that drifted upward, disappearing into the clouds.
When silence returned, it felt absolute.
Brann exhaled, collapsing his shield. "Next time, maybe we let it fly by."
Aric landed lightly beside him, his glow dimmed but steady. "It was already gone."
---
Hours later, the storm quieted. Through the thinning clouds, a shape emerged — a fortress suspended in the sky, built from marble and crystal fragments chained together by arcs of energy.
"The Citadel," Eira breathed. "It's real."
They ascended along the resonance currents, following floating shards until their boots touched the first platform. The air was thin and cold, humming with ancient power.
Inside, the halls were empty but alive with light. Runic machines still functioned, flickering faintly as they passed. Motes of gold drifted like dust through the corridors. At the Citadel's heart stood a crystal sphere large enough to hold a house, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Eira traced the runes along its base. "It's the Concord's last archive. They sealed it during the Hollowing."
Aric approached. His shard responded immediately, glowing in rhythm. Symbols rippled across the crystal—memories, not words. Images flared in his mind: cities collapsing into the sea, skies splitting open, the Core folding itself inward to stop the world's death.
He saw the Concord's final decision—to bind the Core and erase its name from human memory. The Hollowing wasn't destruction. It was containment.
The Core's voice echoed through him, calm and vast.
"You awaken what they feared. Continue, and you will unmake the Hollow."
Aric staggered back, clutching his chest. His vision filled with light. For a heartbeat, he saw himself not as a man but as a shape of pure resonance—gold and white and endless.
Then the ground trembled.
---
The Citadel shuddered. Cracks spread through the walls as lightning struck the platforms around them. Brann shouted, "It's coming apart!"
Eira grabbed her notes, panic flashing in her eyes. "The resonance field's collapsing—Aric, you triggered a feedback loop!"
He could barely hear her. The shard's light consumed his sight, every nerve alive with energy. The Core wasn't angry—it was responding.
He turned toward the others. "Get clear."
Serae tried to reach him, but the floor split. He fell through a column of light, the storm swallowing him whole.
---
For a moment, there was no body, no sound—only the storm's rhythm and the pulse of the Core within it.
He saw the world as it truly was: veins of light threading through mountains, oceans, skies, and cities. Every creature, every root, every breath linked in one vast network.
Then he saw the cage around it—chains of ancient runes holding the Core in stillness. He reached for them without thinking. They shattered.
---
When he opened his eyes again, he was falling. The storm blazed gold around him, the Citadel collapsing in slow motion. He caught sight of his team below, clinging to floating debris. Brann anchored a shield above them. Eira reached up, screaming his name.
He answered by diving.
Light poured from his armor, trailing like wings. He hit the air with enough force to reverse the current, catching all three of them in a burst of energy that carried them safely to the plains below.
When they landed, the shockwave rolled outward, flattening the grass for miles. The Citadel above disintegrated into dust, scattering across the storm like ashes.
---
Silence followed. Then, faintly, the sky began to glow—not with lightning, but with veins of light spreading from horizon to horizon. Each pulse echoed through the world like a heartbeat.
Eira watched in awe. "It's not remembering anymore."
Aric stood at the center of the light, his veins shining gold beneath his skin. "No," he said quietly. "It's rewriting."
They stood together as dawn broke over the plains, the last fragments of the Citadel burning away above them. The storm was gone. In its place, the sky shimmered like living glass.
> And for the first time, the sky looked alive again.
---
End of Chapter 10 — The Shattered Sky