The sky above them was no sky at all—it rippled like molten glass, warping the laws of perspective and space as the twin-seater astral craft glided with grace through a spacial tunnel. Lights danced across the sleek windshield—ribbons of violet, emerald, and gold weaving through chaotic space like living threads. It was chaos, yes, but beautiful, orderly chaos. Like the pulse of some colossal cosmic heart.
Nocth leaned back, the silence between him and Relin humming with unspoken thoughts. He had felt it since they boarded the vessel—something tugging at him. The Dreaming Law whispered faint pulses in the marrow of his being, stirring at the warping boundaries of reality.
"Look ahead," Relin finally said, his fingers flicking across the astral navigation panel. With a blink, a three-dimensional projection bloomed into the air before them—a map of what looked like nine drifting, colossal landmasses, each suspended like islands above an endless void, interconnected by twisting tunnels of warped space.
"These," Relin said, tone low and reverent, "are the Nine Celestial Kingdoms. Each one, a sovereign domain carved from the spine of the cosmos. And each, tied to one of the elemental foundations of our world."
Nocth narrowed his eyes, studying the projected territories. "The one closest to us?"
"Lorenthi," Relin answered. "Ranked first in strength. Lightning affinity runs like blood through their land—aggressive, wild, brilliant."
His hand hovered over the next.
"Valshura—flame dominion, known for its martial perfection. Ranked second. Then Zyreon—our current region, infused with runic and flame arts, ranked third. You've already seen a taste of their power."
Nocth nodded slowly, eyes drifting.
"Then Aurelian, whose gold affinity weaves alchemical majesty; Aervon, kingdom of wind—nimble and elusive. Umbyrn, dark affinity and illusion, masters of subtlety. Myrrh, wood affinity, revered for their regenerative arts. Dreylis, kingdom of water, ranked eighth. And finally—Valthir, the earth affinity. Ancient, unyielding. Ranked ninth."
Nocth tilted his head, something bothering him.
"Where's the light affinity?" he asked. "It's one of the foundational elements, isn't it? Shouldn't there be a kingdom for it too?"
Relin didn't answer at first. His hands remained on the panel, but his shoulders tensed slightly.
"Good observation," he finally replied. "And a dangerous one."
Nocth raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous?"
Relin turned toward him with a calm yet serious expression. "Light... is not absent. It is simply unclaimed."
The air chilled with implication. Nocth opened his mouth to question further, but Relin cut him off with a half-smile.
"Some answers aren't given to initiates, Nocth. They're earned."
Nocth didn't reply, but his mind was far from quiet. There was something else, too—an old, dust-riddled text he once read in Selun'Thael's archives. A mention of the Khaedris House, once considered part of the Nine Sacred. A house wielding the Beast Affinity—raw, shifting, feral.
Yet they weren't here. Not among the nine shown in this projection.
His eyes flicked toward Relin again, quietly studying him.
"Something on your mind?" Relin asked, not looking back.
"Khaedris," Nocth said simply.
Relin didn't flinch, but he didn't answer either. The silence said enough.
Nocth said nothing more.
The craft slid silently through the spacial tunnel, the river of light outside distorting into spirals that shimmered like the surface of a deep lake. In every direction, reality blinked and stretched like painted glass being pulled apart. Despite the chaos, the path was precise—guided by Relin's input into the ship's navigation system.
A low chime rang from the panel. Relin glanced at it.
"We're near the vortex gate," he said. "Buckle up. This might get... sharp."
Nocth clicked his harness into place.
Ahead, the spacial tunnel narrowed to a singularity—a confluence point, where the warping threads twisted into a whirlpool of pure distortion. It spun like a liquid star, trembling with contained energy.
With a low hum, the ship's core engine activated a radiant sigil along its hull. The air bent. With a sudden jolt and a soundless snap, the craft was consumed.
They emerged seconds later—not in chaos, but in silence.
The astral gate loomed behind them, a silver arch of impossible size, flickering with energy signatures older than memory. Before them spread a vast, green horizon—forests of luminous leaves, rivers that sparkled like starlight, and in the distance, a colossal structure so large it seemed to root the entire floating continent together. It pulsed with quiet power, an ancient heart in the wilderness.
Relin exhaled slowly, the weight of the journey leaving his shoulders.
"Welcome," he said, voice hushed, "to Vortem Aetherion."
Nocth leaned forward, eyes wide. "What... is this place?"
Relin didn't answer immediately. He simply let the view speak for itself.
From the distance, enormous bridges extended from the land's core to other sky-borne fragments, like the threads of a spider's web holding heaven together.
"This," Relin finally said, "is where reality trains its blade. Where truth either sharpens... or breaks."
Nocth didn't yet understand. But the Dreaming Law in his blood stirred with quiet anticipation.
Something here awaited him. Not just a trial.
A remembering.