The storm had passed.
Zephyr Kael Zephyreon stood alone in the Hall of Verdicts. Stone pillars. Lightning sigils. No warmth.
A dozen fleet captains sat in silence. His father, Admiral Tyr Zephyreon, loomed on the central platform.
"Victory confirmed," the High Warden announced. "Zephyr Kael, by rite of the Skyveil Trials, you are granted command of the Third Sky Vanguard."
A silver badge floated toward Kael. The Zephyreon Crest.
He didn't take it.
Tyr's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"
Kael looked up. "I don't want it."
The room went still.
"You just won command," Tyr said. "You earned it."
"I don't fight for ranks or crests," Kael said. "I fight to move forward. On my terms."
Murmurs echoed. A captain scoffed. "Arrogant."
Kael ignored him. "The fleet's stagnant. Your rules slow. I don't need permission to lead."
Tyr stood. His voice dropped low. "You refuse the house?"
"I refuse the chains."
Minutes later, Kael walked out alone. The crest had fallen to the floor behind him.
Outside, Riven Thorne waited, leaning against the wall.
"You really did it."
"They expected me to bow."
"You're going to make enemies."
Kael smirked. "I already have."
That night, Kael stood on the lower docks of the citadel. Stormships lined the sky rails, quiet in the dark.
He stared out toward the floating reefs where the rogue winds howled. No fleet patrolled there. Too unstable.
Perfect.
He needed a team. Not loyalists. Not nobles. People like him—outcasts, fighters, truthbound.
He opened a sealed packet. Inside: profiles.
Thess Elun'Vera – medic, expelled from the Vita conclave for illegal graft healing.
Riven Thorne – ex-commander, dishonorably discharged for unsanctioned tactics.
Solienne Nyctros – shadow duelist. Former spy. Current wildcard.
He sent each a single phrase: "Move or be forgotten."
By morning, only two stood waiting by the cliff edge.
Thess leaned on her staff, eyes half-closed. "I thought you were joking."
Riven shrugged. "I'm bored. Let's break something."
Kael nodded. "We fly tonight."
Thess frowned. "No ship."
Kael looked up. "We don't need one."
They dropped into the wilds.
The outer stormline. No flight paths. No scouts.
Just wind, lightning, and broken floating isles.
Kael led them with short bursts, skating across air currents like stepping stones.
Thess gasped as she slipped. Kael caught her arm. "Move with the wind. Don't fight it."
She nodded, adjusting her step.
Riven was steady. No complaints. Just quiet movement.
They landed on an abandoned isle—bare, wind-battered stone. An old skyforge sat rusted in the middle.
"This is it?" Thess asked.
Kael nodded. "For now."
He planted his spear into the ground.
"This is where we build."
Riven dropped his gear. "What's the name?"
Kael looked out into the clouds.
"We are Stormworn. We move forward. We don't stop. We don't kneel."
Thess raised an eyebrow. "Not exactly a recruitment slogan."
Kael smiled faintly. "It's not for them. It's for us."
Hours passed.
The wind shifted.
Kael stood watch alone when a shadow moved behind him.
He turned. Solienne.
"You came," he said.
She stepped forward, black cloak fluttering. "I was told to report back. Instead, I watched."
"To spy?"
"To choose."
"And?"
"You're reckless. But alive. That's rare."
Kael nodded. "You with us?"
"I'm not with anyone. But I'll stay. For now."
The team was four.
Outcasts. Broken. Sharp.
But free.
Back in the Citadel, Admiral Tyr watched the skies.
A report landed on his desk.
"Stormworn presence confirmed near Voidrift Cleft."
He didn't speak.
Maris entered. "He's building something."
"He's chasing failure."
"He's gathering strength."
Tyr closed the file.
"Let him run. The sky will break him."
End of Chapter 3