He soared among the clouds.

Below him, the black castle sprawled along the slope of the mountain, its massive walls insignificant compared to his might. Did they really think their walls would protect them against him?

With the wind on his velvety wings, he dove down. Arrows sailed toward him, backed by fireballs of every size and hue. But all of them shattered and evaporate with a wave of his black sword.

And with another wave he broke the walls…

***

They began in the early hours of dawn, when the sun was just beginning to peak in the horizon. A thin wisp of cloud rolled over the island’s mountain peak, darkening their surroundings.

Nox held up the lantern and pressed on.

Mapping the surface would be easy enough. The ruins of what he assumed was once a mighty fortress left many open paths, allowing for passages on foot. Half of it had collapsed outward, and the towers that had fallen were strewn in shattered pieces. Thankfully, the moss-covered debris weren’t clustered to hinder their navigation.

They picked their way between a crumbling wall and the remains of the gatehouse. The portcullis had long since rusted, and a large portion had already broken off, leaving a gaping hole near the center.

“How long do you think has it been, Master?” Ireela asked.

“Probably a few hundred years.” He looked across the grassy courtyard. Here and there patches of paved stones were visible. “Or maybe longer than that.”

“A thousand, do you think?” Galos asked. For someone so tall and broad, it was strange how the Water user’s voice could be so soft.

“At least.”

Maintaining a fortress like this would be difficult, but Nox couldn’t see any reason why the island it stood on and the surrounding ruins had to be built in the sky. The logistics alone of transporting construction materials by air would have been nightmarish.

They continued deeper, arriving at the fortress gate. What remained of the keep was crumbling like the rest, and most entrances were blocked. But here and there were gaping holes, remnants of a long forgotten conflict.

Again it didn’t make sense. Dragons and other flying mounts were the only ways to lay siege to a floating fortress, but it must have been an impressive army to deal this much damage.

Behind him, Ireela eagerly drew on the empty map she held. When she finished, they entered one of the holes. Galos went first, standing on a pile of rubble. Torma followed his master, but he nearly slipped until Galos’s hand shot toward him and grabbed his wrist, pulling him up.

Nox managed just fine, as did Ireela. They dropped into a dark corridor. Torma brought out a lantern, illuminating the dust-coated floor. Once it must have been as polished as a mirror, but now cracks snaked along its grey surface.

Torma pointed the lantern to their left. Its light splashed on a chunk of debris. “Blocked,” he announced.

Ireela scribbled it on her map then said, “The only way is right.” With Torma taking the lead, they proceeded in single file.

We’re inside the keep, Nox told Estella. There was no response, though he felt her dim acknowledgement. It was still disconcerting how he couldn’t hear her thoughts. But it was relieving that they could still feel each other.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The corridors twisted in many places and branched out in different directions in some. For easier navigation they always took the left passages. Whenever they looped back to their point of origin, they chose the right passages.

In this manner, a vague map of the first floor took shape. It was incomplete, but Ireela possessed a talent in drawing maps with the finest details.

“You’re good at this,” Nox commented during a brief rest under a pillar.

His Squire’s cheeks reddened. “I have some experience, Master. I often redraw the maps I’ve seen in books.”

They continued their exploration. The corridor they were following ran straight ahead, where the lantern’s light barely reached. An opening yawned in the distance, pitch-black.

“I think that’s the great hall,” Torma said.

The Wind Wielder’s intuition was right. They emerged into a massive chamber, its ceiling so high that the lantern’s light couldn’t touch it. Tall pillars stood like sentinels, half of which lay broken on the stone floor, ending in jagged edges like the teeth of some beast.

Nox frowned as the others spread out. The Wind Isles was said to be a nest for monsters, but they had encountered none since they arrived.

Where were they?

He cast his gaze around. The main hall was equal in size to the Academy’s, and just as tall. The floor was painted with a strange design; crisscrossing lines and circles, with several curves that ended in sharp edges. He couldn’t discern what it was, not in this darkness.

He moved to the center, hoping to get a better view. But the rest of the painting was lost underneath a pile of rubble. Disappointed, he strolled to where Ireela stood, furiously scribbling something on the map.

“Found something?” he asked. Then he saw the wall.

There was a faded image of Azrael.

“Master, what do you think this means?” Ireela’s eyes shone with curiosity.

Nox studied the mural silently. It was a more accurate portrayal than the one they had read about, but there were still inconsistencies. He didn’t think the wings were that long, and the sword had the wrong shape, curving like a fang instead of a straight longsword. The face, hidden by shadows, gave off an evil presence.

A bastardization, if nothing else.

Still, why was it here? The kingdom probably worshipped the Fallen Celestial, and this fortress was obviously an important symbol in their faith. Was that why the Wind Isles were in the sky? To protect its territory from those who abhor Azrael?

“He’s their deity, I think.”

He scanned the wall on either side. It wasn’t empty—there were remnants of other murals—but dusts had settled so thickly that the rest of the painting was no longer recognizable. Only an Earth Wielder could try to restore it to its original state.

“Mark this room for now, then we’ll go on.”

“Yes, Master.”

He went to Torma. The Wind Wielder had set the lantern on the floor and crouched next to it, conversing in hushed whispers with Galos. Curious, Nox joined them.

“What’s wrong?”

They looked up at him then exchanged worried glances, their expressions hesitant. Galos gestured at the floor. “What do you make of this?”

Frowning, Nox squatted next to them. At first he didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking at. He shook his head. “I don’t…”

Then he saw the tracks, leading into the darkness ahead. There were three sets of them, the footprints twice the size of his feet. Three long gashes pointing forward, and a shorter one at the back.

Avians. Probably griffins. And juvenile ones at that. Which could only mean a nest.

“Ireela,” he said calmly even as he rose and he shouted with his mind toward Estella. He glanced at Galos and Torma. They nodded and stood.

“Yes, Master?” His Squire trotted toward him.

He looked at her. Should he tell her? Hiding it would do no good, especially the monsters could jump at them any moment. No, he had to tell Ireela.

“Monsters.” He gestured at the tracks. “We’re leaving. I already told Estella, but in case she hadn’t heard it, we may need to use the flares.”

Ireela’s hand drifted to a small leather satchel by her waist. She nodded.

They retraced their steps to the corridor they had come from. Nox already had Erebos in his hand, guarding the rear. If the monsters decided to return, he would know immediately.

Their footsteps echoed in the dark. Torma’s lantern cast strange shadows against the walls, and Nox found himself staring at every corner, his muscles tense.

As they rounded a corner, Nox’s spine tingled. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the darkness. But there was nothing save for a cold breeze. He was sure he had heard—

“Master?” Ireela asked, staring worriedly at him. They had stopped at a junction.

“It’s nothing,” he said, dragging his gaze away from behind him. “It’s just my imagination.”

The footsteps continued for a second then stopped.

Nox stared at his friends’ feet, his brows creased. It didn’t take long for everything to click in his mind. He glanced at the others, and he wasn’t surprised to see their Animartas already in their hands.

He raised his foot to take a step…

And a piercing cry echoed within the fortress.

“Run!”