The Daughter of the Sky and Sea

Year 22026, Aetheris 

Aetheris was a sight to behold when Lunara rose the moon each night. The glittering spires were golden beneath its reflective light, blending with the warm glow of the skyfire lanterns. The skybridges that stretched toward the surrounding islands pulsed with the ethereal shimmer of celestial crystals, their power illuminating the city like woven strands of starlight. The docks of the Celestial Spire stood empty, the Armada of Aetherium ships having sailed toward the borderlands at dawn. 

Across the observation chamber high above the city, young Aelara Vale pressed her small palms against the windowpane, her storm-gray eyes fixed on the sky. She had no doubt they would return soon. From Solaria’s temple, the choral voices of the sun goddess’s devotees rose in a hymn, soon joined by the priestesses of Lunara as the moon ascended higher in the heavens. 

Then came the thunderous cry of a sky eagle, splitting through the twilight. Aelara’s breath hitched as she watched the Armada rise in brilliant formation, their feathered mounts streaked with lightning that danced in dazzling trails behind them. They flew lower than usual, allowing her to glimpse the sparse crowds of civilians below, cheering and waving at the warriors bound for the Stormlands. 

Beyond the eagle formation, unseen but known to her, the Aetherium ships followed in steady ranks. At their vanguard was the vessel that carried her father—Orion Vale, the great Sky General. The thought of his return filled her with anticipation, yet she remained transfixed by the spectacle outside, unable to tear her gaze away. 

Only when the last eagle passed beyond the reach of clear skies, disappearing into the tempests of the Stormlands, did she finally move. She turned to gather the wooden figurines she had brought with her, quickly arranging them into the exact flight pattern she had just witnessed. Her mind soared with the soldiers, her hands guiding the tiny wooden eagles as though commanding her own fleet. Soon, she could no longer contain her excitement, and she leapt up, mimicking their maneuvers as she darted around the room, reveling in the dream of one day flying among them. 

It was in this moment that Orion entered, his frame heavy with exhaustion, his armor battle-worn from the campaign. He moved as quietly as possible, discarding his plated gear piece by piece, yet Aelara still heard the familiar metallic cling of his locket—an unmistakable sound that had comforted her since childhood. 

At once, she froze, her ears perking up. Then, with a shrill squeal, she spun and bolted toward him. 

“I saw the eagles, Father!” she cried, throwing herself into his arms. 

Orion smiled, his fatigue momentarily forgotten as he looked down at her. His sharp eyes flicked to the lingering figurines—some locked in mock battle with carved leviathans, while others still held their perfect formation. 

“I see you did,” he remarked, a note of approval in his voice. “And I must say, you got the formation correct as well.” 

Aelara beamed under his praise, her dark hair and stormy eyes catching the moonlight, making her seem almost luminous. 

Orion chuckled. “You’ve been listening well in your lessons. I think it may be time for something a little more advanced than theory for my big girl.” 

From beside his discarded cloak, he retrieved a long package wrapped with care. Aelara’s breath caught as she reverently took it from him, peeling away the paper to reveal a small wooden spear. A training spear. 

She gasped in wonder. Though scaled to her size, the weapon bore the unmistakable craftsmanship of the Sky Legion’s own arms. Even the crest of the Vale family was carefully etched into the hilt—the eagle, wings spread wide, wreathed in an elegant coil of lightning. 

For a long moment, Aelara simply stared at it, awestruck. Then, ever so gently, she set it down and launched herself into her father’s embrace. 

Orion let out a deep chuckle, wrapping his arms around her. “I suppose this is as good a time as any to start, don’t you think?” 

Aelara said nothing, only holding onto him tighter. 

Later, before Orion was summoned back to the upper levels of the Celestial Spire for a debriefing on the skirmish in the borderlands, he lingered a moment longer, watching his daughter move through the motions of her training. 

Aelara danced with her new spear, each movement precise yet fluid. Orion recognized every drill—the rigid, disciplined forms of the Celestial Armada—yet when Aelara performed them, they transformed into something else entirely. Her body flowed as if guided by unseen currents, her strikes and parries carrying an effortless grace that was at odds with the strict precision of the drills. 

Orion’s grip tightened around the locket at his neck. A shadow passed over his expression as he watched her, an unease settling deep in his chest. 

She was gifted. Too gifted. 

A decision took root in his mind, solidifying with each passing second. Without a word, he turned and strode away, leaving Aelara to her practice. 

Reaching her private chambers, he stepped inside and unfastened the enchanted locket from around his neck. For years, it had been his—an artifact of significance, protection, and burden. Now, with careful hands, he placed it upon her bedside table. 

One day, she would need it. 

Aelara shifted beneath the covers, her small fingers curled tightly around the locket now in her possession. Sleep eluded her, her mind spinning with quiet wonder. How blessed she must be, for her father to entrust her with such a cherished token. Surely, that was what the locket was—a charm of good fortune. 

She had seen it countless times before, peeking from beneath his armor, resting against his chest during councils of war, clinking softly as he moved through the halls of the Celestial Spire. And in battle—she had watched him press it to his forehead, as though in silent prayer. It was a ritual she had never questioned, but now, as she held it close, she yearned to understand its secret. 

With careful determination, she attempted to pry it open, eager to glimpse whatever charm had safeguarded her father all these years—the hidden magic that had always returned him to her. But no matter how she tugged, the locket remained firmly shut, its secrets locked away beyond her reach. 

Restlessness gripped her, and no amount of tossing or turning could ease the energy buzzing beneath her skin. If sleep would not come, she would seek something else—discovery. The Celestial Spire’s garden level had yet to be seen in the moonlight, and tonight, under the full gaze of Lunara’s moon, it called to her. 

Slipping the locket’s chain over her head so it rested lightly against her chest, she pulled on her boots and overcoat, grabbed her new spear, and slipped quietly from her chambers. 

Outside, the gardens stretched before her, bathed in silver light. Lunara’s full moon cast its glow over the expansive acreage, the lanterns dancing along the pathways like tiny stars adrift in the night. The scent of damp earth and night-blooming flowers filled the air, rich and intoxicating. 

Aelara made her way toward a large clearing, the grass already shimmering with fresh dew. She had barely stepped forward when the distant clang of armor broke the tranquil silence. To her left, the rhythmic rustling of a patrolling guard’s approach sent a shiver of urgency through her. 

She did not want to be caught and sent back to bed. Not when the night was so alive, so open with possibility. 

Gripping her spear, she darted toward a copse of trees off to the side of the garden, slipping into the shadows with a quiet grace. Here, the grounds were wilder, untouched by the careful hands that manicured the rest of the Spire’s gardens. The undergrowth curled thick and untamed, the canopy above filtering the moonlight into scattered beams. She crouched low, heart steady, waiting in perfect silence as the clanking of armor passed. 

A moment stretched in stillness. Then another. 

Certain she was alone once more, she took a step back, meaning to reorient herself, to slip back onto the path unnoticed. 

But the ground was no longer beneath her foot. 

Aelara gasped as she tumbled backward, the world tilting around her. Cold water rushed up to meet her, swallowing her whole as she plunged into an unseen pool hidden within the grove’s shadows. 

The cold water enveloped Aelara, but rather than panic, a strange sense of calm washed over her. Her body moved through the water with unexpected ease, as though she had done this a thousand times before. When she broke the surface, droplets cascaded down her face as she drew in a deep breath. The water felt different - alive, almost welcoming. 

She paddled to the edge of the pool and pulled herself out, water streaming from her clothes. Yet instead of feeling waterlogged and heavy, her body felt lighter, more attuned to everything around her. The moonlight seemed brighter, the night air sweeter. 

A sudden warmth bloomed against her chest. The locket pulsed with heat, not burning but insistent. As she reached for it, the clasp sprang open with a soft click. 

Inside, nestled against the silver backing, was a small portrait. A woman’s face gazed back at her, rendered in delicate strokes of paint that had somehow survived the water perfectly. Her eyes were storm-gray, just like Aelara’s own. The same high cheekbones, the same curve of the jaw. But where Aelara’s hair was dark, this woman’s flowed like liquid silver, with an otherworldly grace that took her breath away. 

She was a selkie, a member of the Abyssal Court, the enemies of her people.

Aelara’s fingers trembled as they traced the edge of the portrait. The resemblance was unmistakable. This had to be her mother - the woman she had never known, the subject her father never discussed. All these years, he had carried her picture close to his heart, hidden within this locket. 

Aelara closed the locket with a soft snap and tucked it beneath her sodden overcoat. The night no longer felt restless. The garden no longer called to her. 

Without another glance at the mysterious pool, she turned and made her way back to her room, her boots leaving wet footprints on the polished marble floors of Aetheris. The weight of the locket against her chest felt heavier with each step, as if the truth it contained was a physical burden she now had to bear. The familiar corridors of her home, with their ethereal glow and celestial motifs, suddenly felt foreign.