From the towers of Stratos Prime to the diamond-threaded balconies of Halcyon Reach, the sky shimmered with unnatural light. The Obelisks—once symbols of control, nullification, and engineered peace—cracked in synchrony. Their pristine surfaces fractured with golden fissures, leaking threads of ancient magic like blood from reopened wounds.
It was not a sabotage.
It was an awakening.
And for the Skyborne elite, it was a herald of chaos.
Inside the opaline chamber of Council Hall Ascendant, the Skyborne's High Circle gathered in emergency session. A hundred feet above the clouds, marble and levitating crystal lit with artificial auroras, the empire's most powerful figures stood in growing disarray.
Chancellor Varik Thorne, tall and silver-eyed, pounded his hand on the arm of the floating chair reserved only for the acting Regnant.
"Obelisk Zero has fallen," he snarled. "And now our entire Coreline is compromised."
A holographic display hovered above the center dais, showing the map of the empire. Obelisk lines flashed red across major cities—Null Fields destabilizing. Arcane discharges erupting. Underground comms flooding with Spark-based transmissions.
"They didn't just breach a tower," added General Kael Vetra, head of the Skyborne Enforcers. "They broke the lock on the flame."
At the edge of the dais stood a figure clad in white and cobalt, face hidden behind a porcelain half-mask: Lady Serrin Vale, the diplomatic voice of the Skyborne elite.
She said nothing yet.
Chancellor Varik turned to the gathered lords and ministers, his voice a dagger.
"For decades, we told ourselves the Undercity could be managed. That the rebellion was disorganized. Contained. But we were wrong."
He pointed to the shimmering image of Obelisk Zero collapsing from within.
"They have unleashed something old, something we buried with the Wyrm Pact."
General Kael's fist clenched. "Then we unbury our wrath. Full deployment. Drone firewalls. Seal the Gates of Descent."
"No."
All eyes turned to Serrin Vale.
Her voice was soft. Almost too soft. But it rippled through the chamber like a change in pressure.
"You can crush an army," she said, "but you cannot kill an idea. And what they have awakened is no longer a rebellion. It is a reckoning."
Varik sneered. "And what would you propose we do, Lady Vale? Invite the old gods to tea?"
"No. But I propose we listen before we strangle our own throat." She paced slowly, her heels silent on the glasslike floor. "Embereth was not just a myth. She was a failsafe. One we used. One we chained. And now she breathes again."
Minister Alor, head of Resources and Arcane Containment, scoffed. "It's magic theater. They've simply found an energy well and are pretending it's prophecy. We still have the advantage."
"You're wrong," Serrin said. "You feel it. The very air is shifting. Spark is returning to the bloodlines we suppressed. The false balance is shattering."
Varik took a long breath, controlling his temper. "You've always had a soft spot for the Old Ways, Serrin. But we are not philosophers. We are governors. And we must act."
He turned to Kael.
"Mobilize Tier-V suppression teams. Project Aurora Veil is reactivated. I want the Reapers deployed across the Upper Crust. Anyone caught channeling Spark gets tagged, flagged, or eliminated. No exceptions."
A ripple of silence.
Kael bowed. "By your will, Chancellor."
Serrin's expression didn't change. But her fingers tightened on her cane.
"You'll turn the skies to ash," she said. "And when the people look up, they'll see not protectors—but tyrants."
Varik gave a faint smile. "So be it. Better tyrants than corpses."
Six Hours Later
In a private suite high above the city of Celaris Prime, Serrin Vale watched the auroras writhe. Not the engineered ones. The real ones. Wild, chaotic bands of power threading through the upper sky.
The Spark had returned. Subtle at first. Then unmistakable.
She turned as a soft knock came at the chamber door.
"Enter."
A shadow slipped inside—tall, hooded, gliding like smoke.
"I came as soon as I could," he said. His voice was warm honey and razor glass. Ancient. Familiar.
She smiled faintly. "Hello, Kestrel."
He removed his hood. A vampire—older than the rebellion, older than the Obelisks. His eyes glowed faintly violet.
"You were right," he said. "They woke the Wyrm."
Serrin nodded. "And now they will burn for it. Unless we give them another path."
He raised a brow. "You would betray the Circle?"
"No. I would preserve the world. The Circle's pride will drown it in flame before they ever admit they were wrong."
Kestrel studied her. "You knew it would happen this way."
"I suspected." She turned back to the window. "Veil has returned. I felt him, through the fracture."
Kestrel's gaze sharpened. "You still carry his blood?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she said, "Send word through the Deep Lanes. The Star-Marked Houses. The Silent Choir. I want every faction that still remembers the old oaths to gather."
"To what end?"
"To decide if we still deserve to survive."
Meanwhile — Reaper Deployment: Sector Delta
In the industrial ruins of Sector Delta, the first of the Reaper squadrons arrived.
Clad in obsidian armor, helmed in glyph-shielded masks, the Reapers were not soldiers. They were executioners. Born from Project Aurora Veil—Skyborne's covert enforcement arm—each one was trained to neutralize Spark-born insurgents with brutal efficiency.
Captain Ryse lowered his scope and surveyed the tremor-struck tenements below.
"We've got Arcane residue. Fresh. Wyrm-Core signature."
His lieutenant, a silent woman named Kora, nodded. "We sweep. Level Three purge protocol."
Reapers dropped like shadows into the streets—silent, synchronized.
They found civilians already altered by the Spark's return. A child with glowing fingers. An old man floating six inches off the ground, weeping as flowers bloomed from his veins.
No warning was given.
The Reapers executed with precision.
Until something changed.
From the shadows, a figure stepped forward. Pale. Hooded. His presence bent light.
Captain Ryse aimed instantly. "Identify—"
Veil's eyes caught his.
"You're not ready for what's coming."
He vanished.
And the street behind the Reapers detonated in a burst of flame-touched wind.
Back in Stratos Prime — Emergency Broadcast Vault
Chancellor Varik stood before a wall of floating cameras.
He adjusted his collar. Composed his expression. And began.
"Citizens of the Skyborne Dominion. We face a moment of great uncertainty."
"Terrorists, operating from the Undercity, have launched a coordinated assault on our infrastructure. They have desecrated a historical monument, weaponized forbidden magic, and unleashed powers lost to the Age of Collapse."
"Let me be clear: we will not falter. We will not bend. The Skyborne were forged from the ashes of a dying world. And we will protect our people from all threats—foreign, domestic, or otherworldly."
"The Spark is not a gift. It is a disease. One we eradicated for the safety of all."
"To those who channel it now, in defiance of law: you are enemies of peace."
He leaned in.
"And to the one calling himself Veil—you are no god. You are no savior. You are a relic of a dead age."
"Come into the light, if you dare. We will show you what the future truly looks like."
He ended the transmission.
Outside the tower, the Obelisk cracked again—louder this time. A single shard fell from its tip and melted in the air.
The sky, once pristine, now swirled with color and storm.
The world was beginning to remember itself.