The battle's embers still glowed in the cracked stone when dawn broke. Smoke spiraled like dying spirits toward the bruised sky, and ash clung to everything—armor, skin, memory.
Elyra stood beside Starflame, her hand resting lightly on his scaled side. His celestial fire had dimmed to a gentle shimmer, like the final glow of a setting star. But he watched the horizon with unsettling focus. Every twitch of his massive body felt coiled. Tense.
Kael paced the perimeter of the ridge, every few moments scanning the sky. He said nothing, but the set of his jaw, the stiffness of his shoulders—it all screamed what he wouldn't say aloud: This isn't over.
Vespera sat cross-legged a few paces away, eyes closed, lips murmuring words in a language the world had forgotten. She was tracing sigils into the dirt with her finger, each line smoking faintly. Protective wards. Or warnings. Maybe both.
"They'll come again," Kael finally said. "The Crescent Order doesn't retreat. They regroup."
Elyra nodded. "They'll bring more."
"They'll bring worse," Vespera added without opening her eyes.
Starflame growled low in his throat. The sound vibrated through Elyra's bones. She turned to him.
"What do you see?" she whispered.
The dragon didn't answer. But his gaze turned upward, toward the sky. Not just the clouds—beyond. Toward something they couldn't see. Not yet.
A sudden pressure in Elyra's chest made her stumble back. Her knees hit the ash. Kael was at her side in a heartbeat.
"Elyra!"
She clutched her head. The god's voice wasn't whispering anymore.
It was singing.
Like a thousand bells ringing inside her skull, each note a prophecy, each tone a thread unraveling her sanity. She saw flames swallowing cities. Saw dragons bleeding silver into oceans. Saw stars—falling.
She gasped, and it all stopped.
Kael gripped her shoulders, eyes sharp with worry. "What did you see?"
Elyra looked up at him, her voice hoarse. "The sky. It's not ours anymore."
Vespera opened her eyes. "Then we have less time than I thought."
Silence settled.
The kind of silence that comes before a storm.
But the stillness didn't last.
A crack split the sky, not lightning but light itself peeling back. From the wound came a flock of winged shapes—not dragons. Avian, sleek, and metallic, their feathers shimmered with runes. They circled above, studying, calculating.
"What are those?" Kael asked, drawing his dagger again.
"They're not from this world," Vespera said grimly. "Skyborne sentinels. Celestial scouts. They mark territory before their masters come."
"Godspawn?" Elyra asked.
"No," Vespera said. "Worse. They're the ones who silence worlds that don't submit."
The lead sentinel cried out—a sound like crystal shattering. In response, the others dove, wings slicing the air like razors.
Starflame launched upward, his roar a challenge, fire re-igniting with blinding fury. Elyra felt her own power stir, drawn to his. She rose, flame dancing in her palm. Kael flanked her, eyes narrowed, ready.
The fight was different this time. Precise. Cold. The sentinels moved like thoughts, striking with mathematical precision. One clipped Kael's shoulder—his armor split like parchment. Blood sprayed.
Vespera's wards flared to life, catching several of the sentinels in a binding snare of moonlight. But more came, diving from the rip in the sky.
"They're testing us," Vespera said, sweat beading on her brow. "They want to see what we're capable of."
Elyra turned to Kael, breathing heavily. "Then let's show them."
She unleashed her fire—no longer just heat and flame, but memory, divine wrath, stardust. It burned in silence, like the vacuum between stars, consuming the lead sentinel in a pulse of white flame.
The others hesitated. Then, without a sound, they pulled back—vanishing into the sky's tear, which sealed behind them like a wound stitched shut.
The ridge was quiet once again, save for Kael's ragged breath and the low growl of Starflame, circling above.
"That was a warning," Vespera said.
Elyra nodded. "Then we'll answer it."
And the sky, for now, remained whole.