The Edge of the Storm

They didn't speak much for the next two days.

The path westward led them into wind-carved canyons, where thunder echoed through stone, and strange lights danced along the horizon. The land felt unsettled—waiting. As if the storms that brewed in the distance were not just weather, but a sign.

The second seal pulsed with warmth at Mike's side, and the map had changed again. Two symbols glowed now—one marked by the Phoenix, one by the flaming eye—and a third had begun to flicker, distant and unknown. The next trial waited far to the north, beyond cliffs and frost.

But something else stirred first.

They made camp at the edge of a plateau where the sky never stopped moving—clouds roiled in an endless swirl, shot through with blue and green lightning. The wind here whispered through the grass in ways that felt almost like speech. Aero perched nearby, watchful, her wings stretched wide to keep her balance in the current.

She was magnificent now.

Her feathers were fully silver-white at the tips, and when she moved, they caught the light like mirrors. She could fly faster than they could track and spot danger miles before it arrived. And when she screamed, even the wind seemed to answer.

That night, as the lightning flashed across the sky, Mike finally broke the silence.

"Do you ever wonder what comes after all this?"

Ren looked up from the fire, his eyes reflecting the flames. "You mean after Vlad?"

"After the seals. After the gate. After we've… fixed it all."

Ren shrugged. "I stopped thinking that far ahead a long time ago. Right now, I'm just trying to live through the next day."

Mike nodded, then glanced down at the satchel. He pulled out his father's journal.

There were more pages now that he had the time to look. Some were torn, some incomplete—but the ones that remained told a story. His father had known the Speakers were being hunted. He had known the gate was more than just a machine. And he had feared that someone—or something—was watching him from the shadows.

"There's a name here," Mike said softly. "It's scratched out everywhere else, but in one entry it wasn't. Just once."

Ren leaned closer.

Mike traced the ink. "The Watcher in the Deep."

Ren frowned. "That doesn't sound like Vlad."

"No. I don't think it is."

A gust of wind scattered the fire's sparks.

Mike looked toward the storm beyond the cliffs.

"I think something older than Vlad is stirring. And it's watching me now."

Aero shifted, feathers bristling.

Then, without warning, the wind died.

Everything fell still.

And far above them, beyond the edge of the clouds, a shadow passed across the sky—massive, silent, unnatural. Too large to be a bird. Too slow to be wind.

They both stood.

Ren gripped his blade. "Tell me you saw that."

Mike nodded slowly. "I don't think we're alone out here anymore."

The shadow disappeared into the sky, leaving behind silence and a chill in the air that hadn't been there before.