Chapter 99: Old Tower

The grove was hushed when they returned, the portal closing behind them like a sigh. Lira placed the small shard she had recovered upon the smooth table, its faint glow casting ripples of light across the mossy walls. She leaned closer, studying the way it pulsed when her own breath touched it, as though it recognized the air itself.

Renkai crouched nearby in his fox form, tail flicking with restrained curiosity, but said nothing. His eyes lingered on the shard, alert yet patient.

It was Thalanir who broke the silence. He had been standing in the shadows, in his elven form, his voice was low, almost reverent.

"I remembered something," he said suddenly, and both Lira and Renkai turned toward him. His gaze was fixed not on the shard but on the faint shimmer in the air above it, like mist caught in sunlight.

"When I was young," Thalanir continued, "my elders told stories of a tower, an old temple of air. High in the mountains where the cliffs cut into the sky itself. They said the winds there carried voices of the forgotten, teaching those who listened... or luring the reckless to their end."

He moved closer, as his head dipped in thought. "I never believed it then. Just a myth to frighten or inspire us. But once, when I wandered too far in stag form, I reached those cliffs. The wind... it spoke. Not in words I understood, but in currents that pressed into my bones. I did not dare step closer."

He lifted his eyes to Lira’s, the weight of his memory steady and clear. "If the shard you seek belongs to air, I would wager it waits there, in the ruins of that tower."

Renkai’s claws scraped lightly across the stone, a restless sound. "And you think the girl can walk into a storm of voices and survive?"

Thalanir’s mouth curved, neither a smile nor a frown. "She has already walked where none of us dared. And the air has chosen her before."

Lira looked back at the shard, its glow steadying, as though confirming Thalanir’s words. Her heart tightened. A path had been given, and it led into the mountains.

Lira spent the evening gathering what little she would need. A satchel with dried herbs and a few vials of potions, a small loaf of bread she had baked with Thara’s help. A waterskin filled fresh from the grove’s spring. Not much, she had learned to travel light, and both Renkai and Thalanir seemed to prefer it that way.

Fluffy trailed her every step, the small creature’s ears twitching as though it sensed the weight of what was to come. She crouched and scratched behind its ears, earning a soft trill in return.

"You’ll be safer here," she whispered, guiding it toward the grove’s inner den where the bushes always lay thick. "Renkai says this place will hide you, even if elementals pass nearby. Stay and wait for me, alright?"

Fluffy’s eyes gleamed, bright as moonlight, but it nestled obediently into the mossy hollow. Lira’s chest ached as she stepped back, though she knew it was right.

When she returned to the path where Renkai and Thalanir waited, night was already pressing at the edges of the sky. Renkai was crouched by the stone archway, his fan opening and closing impatiently, while Thalanir stood with a bundle of wrapped supplies slung across his back. He had shifted fully into his elven form for the road, though the faint shimmer of beauty never truly left him.

"Ready?" Renkai asked, his shiny eyes catching the dim light.

Lira nodded, clutching her satchel close. "As I’ll ever be."

They set off as the last birdsong faded from the grove.

The path into the foggy forest was slow at first, winding through roots that coiled like sleeping beasts and branches heavy with mist. The air was damp, each breath tasting of moss and hidden springs. Lira’s boots sank slightly into the earth, and she had to pick her steps carefully. Renkai moved ahead with fluid ease, his clawed feet barely disturbing the leaves, while Thalanir walked behind, his silence a shield against the forest’s whispers.

Ahead, the trees grew darker, their canopies knitting together so tightly that only threads of moonlight pierced through.

"This forest has many moods," Thalanir murmured after a long silence. "Tonight it watches us. Not with malice, but curiosity."

"Let it watch all it wants," Renkai muttered, tail lashing. "If it tries to stop us, it’ll regret it."

Lira smiled faintly at their contrast—Thalanir’s calm, Renkai’s sharpness—and walked on, though unease curled in her stomach.

---

By the second day of travel, the forest floor began to rise into uneven hills. The roots gave way to jagged stone, and the air grew cooler, sharper. They climbed narrow paths where the ground crumbled if she stepped too close to the edge, and crossed streams that rushed with snowmelt from higher peaks.

Renkai often scouted ahead, returning with quick words of warning: loose ground here, a fallen tree there. Thalanir guided her through difficult crossings, offering a steadying hand when her boots slipped on wet stone.

At night, they made small camps, never fires, for the forest disliked flames. Instead, they relied on Renkai’s sharp senses and Thalanir’s quiet wards to keep the shadows at bay. Lira often lay awake longer than the others, staring up at the faint outlines of mountains beginning to loom against the horizon. The thought of the tower filled her with both dread and determination.

---

By the fifth day, the forest had thinned into sparse, twisted trees clinging to rocky slopes. The fog was left behind, replaced by a biting wind that swept through the cracks of the cliffs. The climb was harsher now. Loose stones shifted underfoot, and the air grew thin, each breath burning her lungs.

Yet the higher they climbed, the clearer the sky became. Clouds streaked like silver banners across the blue, and from the cliff’s edge Lira could glimpse the sea—a vast, endless expanse crashing against the rocks far below.

Thalanir paused there, antlers gleaming in the sun, and lifted his face into the wind. For a moment he seemed older, his form stretched between memory and presence. "Yes," he said softly. "This is the path. The tower lies further up."

Lira followed his gaze. Beyond the cliffs, jagged spires of stone reached like broken fingers toward the heavens. And perched upon one of those spires, half-lost in clouds, she thought she saw the outline of a ruined tower, leaning but unfallen.

Her breath caught. That was where the air awaited her.

The higher they climbed, the more the world seemed to test them. The path was no longer a path at all, only a narrow ledge pressed against the cliffside, no wider than a single stride in places. To their left, stone walls jutted upward, rough and cold. To their right, the world fell away into sheer emptiness, the sea a dizzying distance below, its waves smashing against rocks with thunderous roars.

The wind was merciless here. It clawed at them from all sides, tugging at cloaks, hair, even threatening to wrench the space satchel from Lira’s shoulder. She leaned forward, pressing one hand against the stone wall as she edged along the ledge. Every step seemed to echo with danger, the ground shifting beneath her boots as tiny stones tumbled down, down, swallowed by the void.

Renkai, ahead of them, sank his claws into the stone to anchor himself. "Keep low," he growled, his voice nearly lost in the gale. "The mountain wants to toss us down like leaves."

"I see that," Lira muttered through clenched teeth, trying to keep her voice steady. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She willed her earth affinity to steady her feet, imagining roots sinking through her boots into the rock, holding her fast. It helped, but the winds still tore at her balance.

A sudden shriek split the air. Lira’s head snapped upward, just in time to see shadows diving out of the sun’s glare. Enormous wings cut through the sky, eagles, but far larger than any she had seen before. Their feathers gleamed like bronze, and their talons curved like sickles.

"Sky-guardians," Thalanir murmured, his voice calm despite the danger. He shifted slightly, the shimmer of antlers flashing for an instant as his eyes narrowed. "This place still remembers who it once belonged to."

The first eagle swooped low, its wings stirring the wind into a violent gust. Lira nearly lost her footing, only to feel Thalanir’s steadying grip on her arm. Renkai snarled, bracing himself against the cliff, and slashed upward when another eagle came too close. His claws grazed its wing, forcing it to veer away with an outraged cry.

"They don’t mean to kill us," Thalanir called above the storm of wings. "They’re testing us. If we falter, they’ll drive us from the cliffs."

"Some test!" Lira shouted, ducking as a talon sliced the air where her head had been.

She reached inward, calling the air around her, not to fight the creatures, but to steady herself against their gusts. The winds resisted at first, wild and untamed, but slowly she coaxed them into a rhythm that matched her breathing. When the next eagle swept past, she bent with the current rather than against it, her body swaying like a reed. Her footing held.

The birds shrieked again, circling above, but when they saw her balance, they retreated higher, merging back into the sunlight.

Renkai spat toward the ground. "If that’s their way of welcoming guests, I’d hate to see how they greet enemies."

Thalanir only gave a small, knowing smile, though his eyes lingered on Lira, pride flickering within them.

---

The climb did not grow easier. Soon the ledge narrowed into nothing more than jagged footholds carved into the stone. Lira’s fingers cramped as she gripped cracks in the rock, pulling herself upward, her satchel thumping heavily against her side. Renkai scaled the wall with the ease of a predator, but even his claws slipped at times, sending pebbles raining down. Thalanir moved with unearthly grace, as though the mountain itself made space for him, though his breath was slower now, deeper, touched with strain.

More than once the ground betrayed them. A section of ledge broke under Lira’s boot, crumbling into the abyss. She gasped, her body tilting outward—only to slam back into the stone as Renkai’s arm hooked around her waist, jerking her to safety.

"Watch it!" he snarled, though his grip lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary before he released her.

Her knees shook as she steadied herself, but she forced a grateful smile. "I’ll... try to avoid falling to my death next time."

"We do not want to lose you," Renkai muttered, moving ahead again.

---

By the time they reached the high ridge, the sun was sinking behind the peaks. The sky burned orange and violet, clouds stretching like torn banners across the horizon. The wind carried the taste of storms, sharp and metallic, and far below the sea glimmered with restless silver.

And then Lira saw it.

Perched upon the farthest spire of stone, connected by a crumbling bridge of ancient rock, stood the tower. Or what remained of it. Its base was solid, carved from white stone streaked with runes that still glimmered faintly despite the centuries. The upper half, however, was shattered, pieces suspended in the air as though frozen mid-collapse. Stones floated in slow circles around the tower, caught in an eternal current of wind.

It was beautiful. It was impossible.

Lira’s breath caught, her exhaustion forgotten. "The Sky Tower..." she whispered.

Thalanir bowed his head slightly, as though in reverence. "The stories were true. A place where the air itself refused to let go of what was once sacred."

Renkai narrowed his eyes, his tail flicking uneasily. "If that’s where your shard is, you’ll have to step into the heart of a storm to claim it."

Lira clenched her fists, staring at the ruin, the winds howling around it like voices of the past. Fear stirred in her belly, but so did determination.