The wind seemed tranquil for a bit, but tension clung like the edge of a whispered secret. The house continued to creak with the sound of salt-worn wood, and the now glowing chest sat between them, small and stubborn on the floorboards.
"It looks like we have awakened—activated the compass, too." Mira quietly said. The celestial runes were no longer inert but danced aimlessly across the surface.
"That's great! Then we can decipher the runes now! I wonder what's hidden inside this." Finn crouched closer to the chest, astonished by its shimmering lights.
"Meant to be felt, not to be read." Elias repeated, his eyes scanning a journal.
The root glyphs do not speak. They stir. They do not ask to be understood—they ask to be experienced. As though they await the soul's echo to arise...
And if these runes are to awaken, the sky will remember. And I... I may no longer belong in the story it tells…
"But how do you decipher something you can't read? What, do you just simply feel it?" Finn tilted his head, pondering.
"Something like that." Mira answered, half-smiling. "Pops said they were… primordials—root glyphs. Not symbols but more like echoes… perhaps interpreted with emotion."
"So… like, mood-runes?"
Mira chuckled as she held it closer to her chest. "In a way, yes."
She thought of her grandfather. The hours she'd spent studying his notes when no one was looking. The ache of believing something no one else did. The weight of his absence.
Elias could only glanced at the compass, now quietly pulsing as if it was reminiscing something.
Then—a flicker. A warmth.
"But what if I'm angry—Woah! How did you do that!" Finn exclaimed as the compass sparkled under Mira's hands but not because it reacted to the pendant.
"What?" Mira frowned and looked at the compass.
Some runes were brightly glowing in orange, frozen in their places. She slowly traced their lines—runes gleaming under her touch.
She didn't try to read them. She just let herself feel. She smiled as her fingertips brushed against the compass.
The runes have answered.
"They want to be remembered."
"Right…" Elias mumbled. "You don't have to decode or understand it. You really just have to—"
"Simply feel it." Finn concluded, still amazed by the sight.
The compass flared once again as the house trembled in a sudden short-lived earthquake. And somewhere far above, the beacon stirred.
They all looked up instinctively.
"The lighthouse." Mira and Finn said in unison, quickly getting to their feet.
Together, they hurried down the front door, running towards the lighthouse, where lightning pranced and the storm waited for its answer.
Elias dashed to its door first, his sopping clothes clung to his body, his heart pounding as the windstorm screamed like a wounded beast.
"Get inside, quickly now!" He shouted through the mayhem, one hand holding the door open while clutching the chest, the other ushering his siblings inside.
Mira's breath caught in her throat as water trickled down her hair, a few strands sticking to her face. "This... this is it."
"Let's go!" Finn could almost feel it in his chest—the quiet hum of the pendant's energy vibrating in his bones.
"Wait." Mira gripped Elias' arm as he closed the door, her fingers cold with anticipation. She glanced up at him, her face lit by the soft glow, her expression a mixture of excitement and resolve. "Tell me we'll do this together—promise me."
They stood silently at the base of the staircase leading up to the beacon tower, the compass pulsing steadily in Mira's hands like a heartbeat caught between worlds, waiting for him to answer.
"I… I promise." He responded although his voice was almost lost to the uproar.
The iron steps spiraled upward like the spine of a great leviathan. Elias led them, his wet boots slipping slightly. The wind was battering the shabby frame with the fury of a world unhinged. Rain slammed against the windows in sheets, as if the sky itself were trying to drown the earth. Thunder cracked overhead—deep, violent, and close enough to shake the walls.
The compass had begun to glow with a blazing light again, its runes shifting into alignment. The constellation at its center pulsated in rhythm with the lightning above, as though it were feeding off the storm. Something was calling to it—no, responding to it.
The beacon.
The source.
The tower bellowed around them, metal and stone shrieking as wind pushed against the structure from all sides. The walls narrowed the higher they climbed, and the light from the aetherglass flickered madly, casting warped shadows across the spiraling stairs.
Outside, the sea was a roiling mass of black water, its waves lashing at the cliffs like claws. The beacon glass above shimmered faintly, as though something ancient slumbered within it—waiting.
Finn clutched the railing tightly, eyes wide with adrenaline. "Are we gonna get flung off the tower?"
"No," Elias muttered, "but if we don't hurry, the tower might collapse before we could reach the beacon."
The chamber at the top was a narrow ring of iron and glass, crowned by the dormant beacon lens. The storm got in through a few broken panes, lightning arcing across the sky in jagged veins of silver and violet, rain laced with seasalt slicing their faces. And at the center—directly beneath the great lens—was a stone block, ringed with ancient markings, identical to those on the compass and chest, feebly glowing as if their breath was slipping away.
"This must be… the fragment of a skygate, right?" Elias asked, staring at it in disbelief, recalling his grandfather's story, his journal notes.
"It might be," Mira nodded. She vaguely remembered seeing it before. "From the same expedition where Pops uncovered the aetherglass."
The block was believed to be part of a skygate pillar, discovered in a ruin long forgotten.
Finn moved towards it, eyes surveying the strange circular indent on its top side. "This looks like a lock," he said, pointing at the circle—inscribed on its surface were aetherglyph symbols, celestial runes surrounding its outline. "The compass might be the key, I think."
The moment Mira knelt before it, the storm intensified. The wind dropped—just for a heartbeat—and in that fleeting silence, the runes ignited brightly as she laid the compass into the engraved surface.
Instantaneously, a column of light burst down towards the beacon, slamming into the stone with a sound like a bell being struck underwater.
Then came the sound they knew very well by now. The low, harmonic tone that vibrated through their souls, through the stone of the lighthouse, and into the storm itself. The sky cracked open, and for a moment, it wasn't just clouds and rain beyond the glass—it was stars.
Infinite. Impossible.
A great spiraling vortex formed above the beacon, clouds curling inward like the eye of a cosmic storm. And at its center was unmistakably… the Skygate—its symmetry broken.
It looked similar to a lancet arch-pier, just like how their grandfather envisioned it in his sketchbook, albeit one side had crumbled—a block long gone—leaving it lopsided. The missing piece gave the structure a weary lean, as if centuries of silence had finally worn it down into imperfection.
"Astheria—It's… real. Astheria is real." Elias mumbled, his voice parched, looking up at the celestial doorway suspended in the sky, staring down on them.
"Of course it is, doofus." Finn grinned, slowly stepping back as the horizon unfolded before him—brilliant, and impossibly beautiful, too vast to take in all at once.
The skygate shimmered like liquid glass framed in radiant light. Within it, unknown stars moved in slow, deliberate motions—unlike the surrounding night sky. Even though they looked hazy, half-buried in mist—like light glimpsed through tears, they could feel them watching.
Waiting…
Before it all disappeared just as quickly as it emerged, replaced by another deafening crack as lightning struck the stone itself with terrifying precision.
And before anyone could react, the chamber flashed white with an explosive bang, shattering the glass above and sending stone chips flying everywhere, the blast throwing them off their feet.
Singed earth, heat, and the taste of ozone flooded the air. The block burned in a trice—light racing through the runes, before it abruptly died down.
"Mira!" Elias hurried to her aid despite the ringing in his ears, coughing through the dust as he hauled the unconscious girl upwards into his arms. "Mir, wake up! No, no, no… Finn! Finn—where are you?!"
"Mira, no… this can't be…" Finn fell to his knees beside Elias with shaking hands hovering, unsure where to touch, how to help.
"Wake up Mir…" He gently shook her arm, his face pale and stricken. "You have to, please… Mira! Wake up, please!"
Mira remained unresponsive, smoke curling from her torn coat, her body limp, her face scraped.
Another roll of thunder growled as if warning them to leave lest they dare to face its wrath. The icy wind rushed into the room as rain mercilessly spilled through the gaping maw above—bashing the iron floor in wild, slanted torrents, drenching everything in its path.
"Eli, we—we have to go!" Finn shouted, his voice barely cutting through the cacophony, shaking his shoulder. "Now, Eli! We have to go now!"
But Elias didn't move. He knelt frozen in the chaos, soaked to the bone, eyes locked on Mira's shallow breathing as if trying to confirm whether his eyes were deceiving him or not.
"Elias—come on! Move, you brain fart!" Finn shouted again, seizing his arm with fingers that trembled not from cold, but raw panic—yanking him from his trance.
"Don't just sit there—move! Now!"
Elias' gaze darted around the chamber as the storm bled rage inside. Another gust roared through the hollow space, sending shards of glass and screenings skittering across the floor like fleeing insects. He blinked once and swiftly lifted Mira up on his back.
Wind battered their every step, each stride a frantic slap of footfalls and sliding balance.
"Move faster!" Finn yelled, voice cracking like the lightning above.
Rain slicked the railing beneath his hand, stairs shuddering beneath his boots with every thunderclap. His breath came ragged, loud in his ears, but even that was drowned in the storm's anger.
He could hear Elias shouting something from behind but it came out gibberish as if the wind swallowed his words. The porch wasn't far—on a normal day, it would've taken seconds. But now, with the gale raking at his clothes and the muddy ground tilting under his feet, it felt miles away.
Finn sprinted, but the path seemed to stretch like a bad dream, each step devoured by chaos. He clenched his jaw and surged forward down the hill—pushing harder, boots skidding, lungs fiery.
Then he reached it.
He swung the door open, shivering and heaving loudly as he dropped the chest and compass carelessly on the carpet, wet and mud-caked footprints tracking across the wooden floors.
He quickly cleared the couch off pillows and laid a throw blanket as Elias stumbled inside, out of breath.
"I said stay close." Elias muttered between his pants.
Each inhale came in hasty bursts, throat scorching as their breath scraped in and out like a blade while the storm continued to wage war outside.
Panic still stuck on Finn, hot and cold all at once, as if his mind couldn't quite keep up with the terror they'd outrun—staring at the door before them, holding his breath. But no one followed.
Relief hit him like a second breeze—sharp, dizzying. He sagged against a chair, pressing a trembling hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat pound like a warning drum that hadn't yet realized the danger was past. Has the danger really passed?
"What happened back there?" Elias' voice broke as he laid Mira on the couch, steam rising faintly from her skin—whether due to the lightning or cold, they couldn't tell.
"She's not waking up." Finn dropped to his knees, wiping Mira's storm-soaked face, checking for burns or broken bones. "Is she—will she be okay?"
"We shouldn't have gone out there—I, I should've not let this happen but I did… I did," Elias murmured, pacing with a wild look in his eyes.
"I can feel her pulse… but it's faint." Finn's words faltered—his tone low, hoarse. "What do we do, Eli?"
"I don't know! I'm thinking!" Elias lashed out, dragging his hand across his face with a sharp, furious swipe, as if trying to scrub away the agitation rising beneath his skin—forcing himself to focus.
Finn left to grab some towels and first-aid kit, lost in his own thoughts, overwhelmed by the impossibility of what they'd seen.
The room was quiet except for the storm's yowl, branches dragging across the roof, and the ticking of the old wall clock.
Elias had already lit up the fireplace when he got back, taking one towel from him.
"The landline doesn't work, we can't call for help." Elias groaned as he dried himself, frustration evident in his tone. "We need to keep her warm and monitor her pulse."
Finn nodded, applying ointment on Mira's scrapes. "Something must've gone wrong, Eli. We must check Pops' journal, maybe we missed something—"
"That's enough, Finn." Elias hissed, grabbing a pillow to steady Mira's head. "What we must do is stay away from… from all this!"
"Stay away?!" Finn cried out, his voice came out a shrill. "You saw the storm parted, you saw the skygate—you… you even saw Astheria!"
"And the lightning that struck Mira!" Elias snapped. "Can't you see the danger we've brought upon ourselves?! Not everything is an adventure you need to follow, Finn!"
"But Eli… we can't stop now—now that we're so close!" Finn, stubborn and defiant, squared his shoulders.
"We agreed to stop when I say so! It's my job to protect you. Both of you—"
"Well, I don't need protecting!"
"You're twelve, Finn!" Elias roared, his voice splintering louder than the thunder outdoors.
"And you're sixteen! But you're still indecisive and a coward!" Finn stomped livid and ran upstairs, his boots echoing strongly on the worn wood, the bluish light retreating—its glow shrinking until the room was only bathed in amber and the flickers of the compass.
Elias sat unmoving, shoulders hunched contemplating. The crackling firelight cast shadows across his face, swaying with every silent sigh. His eyes, distant and unfocused, bore into the floor as if it held answers he'd buried long ago. One hand hung loosely by his knee, the other tapping against his thigh—twitching with hushed rage.
Two steps back for every one forward—like a coward running from his own shadow. The words rung repeatedly in his mind, razor-sharp and accusing. He dragged a hand through his wet hair, jaw tightening, remembering the promise he made earlier.
I want to, admitting silently to himself. More than anything, I wanted to.
He swallowed hard, resentment sputtering like a dying spark. The road ahead was waiting and so were his siblings. But he couldn't allow himself to choose wrong.
He used to dream of flying, of racing the wind and chasing the stars—but somewhere along the way, the world placed a burden into his hands and called it duty—and the child who once believed had no choice but to grow up and bear it.
In the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement. He held his breath, eyes shifting to Mira, afraid that even the smallest sound might shatter the fragile thread he hung unto.
Again, Mira's fingers jerked, barely more than a flitter but it was enough—more than enough.
"She moved," he whispered as if he couldn't believe it. "Finn! She moved—"
Her breath came next—a sharp inhale, like the first gasp after surfacing from deep water, eyelids fluttering.
"Mir, can you hear me?" He immediately crouched beside her, asking above a murmur. "Mir?"
Mira then coughed violently, stuck between choking and rasping. She jolted awake and sat right up as she caught her breath, struggling for air.
It took her a moment to calm down and realize where she is.
"Geez! Why are we back here?" She uttered between coughs. "Ugh—my back."
"Are… are you okay—does anything else hurt? Can you move your fingers—your toes?" Elias asked in a panicked rush as he reached for her shoulders, clutching it like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world.
"Woah, woah! One question at a time." Mira held up her hands—groaning as she straightened up, one hand pressed firmly on her lower back. "It feels like an elephant used me as a trampoline. A very angry elephant—where's Finn?"
"Uhh, he's upstairs." Elias recoiled as he backed down, scratching his head. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Mira rose slowly, stretching her back, "Do you two only know how to get along when I'm watching?"
Elias trotted along, trying to support her but was smacked right away. "You shouldn't be walking, Mir! We need to make sure you're really fine—"
"I'm fine, okay!" Mira huffed and shuffled slowly towards the stairs, "The sooner we find Finn, the sooner we can go back to the lighthouse."
"No," Elias said, voice soft but firm, fingers white from gripping the banister. "We'll stop here, Mir."
Mira stopped dead, already halfway up, before coming two steps down. "No. You promised me. You promised, Elias."
"It's too dangerous Mira. I can't let you go back there." Elias frowned, his voice sharp as Mira quickened her steps. "Do you—do you even remember what happened?"
"Of course! Why? Can't a girl survive a lightning strike?" Mira rolled her eyes in annoyance, leaning on the railing as they reached the final step, "You keep second-guessing everything, Elias!"
He just stared at her, his words caught in his throat.
"Make up your mind! We're gonna do this whether you're in or not."
Elias could only sigh loudly, his expression tired but not from the trip. "Go change. I'll get him."
She simply nodded and headed to her room, rubbing her back.
She remembered seeing aetherglyphs inscribed inside the circle—the same one on the manuscript:
Vora Elun, Keryn Et Vara, Ser Vaelith Thalas Thyn Ar'syn Vel—Speak the light, the course true, and its truth shall lead a path forth through.
She felt the stone vibrated as she set the compass down, runes glowing brightly. However, the compass didn't sit snug on the sunken circle—it wobbled in the gap, like a puzzle piece meant for another set, a lone key rattling in a lock it was never meant to turn.
She remembered being confused—was the compass too small? Or perhaps, has the circle eroded with time? And before she could think, a beam of light shone on the stone—runes etched around the circle gleamed in different colors, some lighting up brightly after the others, some changing colors randomly.
Her glance went back to the compass—constellations were shifting into an alignment while the runes stopped—fixed in a single phrase of symbols that stunned her.
Ora'kael Thyn Vareth—Awaken o skygate
'The Invocation of Passage', as what her grandfather had written in the last entries of his journal, circled over and over again—staring back at her. It would make sense had these been aetherglyphs.
'...Spoken not just with sound—but intention. Must be felt to be heard…'
Confusion, panic, anxiety all came crashing down on her.
Did their grandfather somehow unlock the celestial runes? Did he really find Astheria before them?
Then a hot flash came—light searing her vision, buzzing and muffled voices loud in her ears—before everything went blank.
Panic-stricken, she checked her body for burns and injuries in a frenzy. She shuddered at the moment that kept replaying in her mind—how the lightning nearly missed her, how close it had been, how death had grazed past her like a whizzing bullet.
She breathed a sigh of relief—everything's good except for her backache and a few abrasions on her face and fingers—until she noticed something on her left hand.
Between the folds of her index and middle finger was seemingly a scorched burn, although it didn't throb with pain unlike the scrapes. Leaning closer, she inspected it—a runic symbol…
A vigorous knock almost made her jump.
"Mir, are you done?" Elias called out, his voice filled with urgency.
"What now?" She miffed as she opened the door, brow arching.
"I can't find him anywhere." Elias mumbled between breaths. "Even in Pops' study."
"Are you sure you checked everywhere?" Mira's heart sunk—panic surging like a wave in her chest as she quickly darted back to the room, grabbing the gas lantern they left earlier.
"I did. He must be here, somewhere." Elias answered, more to convince himself than her.
A loud smash from her room froze them for a second. The wind surged through the breaches, rattling doors on their hinges, dragging curtains into a frenzied whirl, sending papers rustling and spiraling all over.
"No—" Mira barely turned around before a desperate hand yanked her down as another window buckled under pressure, exploding inward with a deafening crash, blasting shards of glass across the floor.
Before she could resist, Elias dragged her downstairs. Her thoughts were scrambled—her cherished books and journals, the mark on her hand, Finn's whereabouts. Her heart pounded loud in her ears, drowning out the rattle of the storm as they rushed down the steps, adrenaline flowing through her limbs.
"Do you think Finn went back to the lighthouse?" Mira yelled as they found their way back to the fireplace—now in dying embers, inviting the frigid storm inside.
Hanging bulbs swung wildly from their cords, glass laid broken on the floor—fragments crunching beneath their frantic steps, rain poured through the wrecked door like a broken dam, soaking the wooden floor as the air turned electric with chaos and dread.
Elias grunted as he grappled the chest and compass off the floor. "No, I—I don't think so! He looked… terrified before we left the lighthouse earlier!"
"What about the chamber?" Mira was barely heard as they ran across the corridor, lantern swaying in her hand—casting manic, stuttering shadows on the trembling walls.
"But we couldn't get inside without the—" Elias didn't finish his sentence as realization hit him, their footsteps heading towards the study.
However, the door won't budge.
Elias huffed, shoulder pressed hard against the wood as the screeching wind from the other side kept them out—tearing through the broken windows.
"Push harder!" Mira shrieked, her voice hardly audible above the screaming wind.
"I am pushing!" Elias snapped, bracing his feet against the soaked floor and heaving again. The door jerked but didn't gave. A loud bang echoed behind them—a loose frame from the wall crashing down.
Mira tried to help, her smaller hands fumbling against the edge of the door, sweat plastering hair to her forehead. "It's stuck—the wind's holding it shut!"
The pressure inside was too strong. Every time they made progress, another violent gust hurled into the room, forcing the door to close again.
"Step back!" Elias shouted as he passed the chest and compass to Mira.
Charging forward, he slammed his weight into the door with a final cry of effort. With a wrenching squeal, it flew open, wind tearing through the hallway like a whip.
Mira staggered inside, catching herself against the wall, heaving as she clutched the chest tightly like her life depended on it.
Elias grabbed her arm without hesitation. "Go! Now!"
They bolted to the bookshelf, hair flapping wildly in the wind, when it suddenly swung forward—Finn standing inside, clasping his pendant in the middle of the passage—like a lighthouse in the midst of the storm, guiding them to safety.
"Mira! You're okay!" He cried as Mira and Elias rushed in—slamming the wind shut, its echo chasing them as they disappeared into the narrow passage.
Finn flung himself forward, arms wrapping around Mira with a force that knocked the breath out of them. His fingers locked in her back like he feared she might vanish, tears already soaking into her shirt.
"I thought—" his voice broke, muffled against her shoulder. "I thought you'd leave me too."
"Of course not, we still have a lot of stuff to do." She cleared her throat and held him just as tightly, as if grounding herself in his warmth, the thunder of her heartbeat against his chest. "And, I can't let you have all the fun now, can I?"
"You can't stay put for a moment, huh?" Elias flicked Finn's forehead, picking up the strewn chest and lantern.
"Great, you came back." Finn said to him, his voice flat and sarcastic as he wiped his tears.
Elias nodded, guilt creeping up his chest although he didn't let it show. "I had to."
"You had to?" Finn's laugh cracked like lightning—sharp and bitter. "What happened to staying away from all this?"
"I promised Mira." Elias said, his jaw clenched.
Finn stepped closer, blocking the stairs, fists closed. "Oh yeah? Does that promise include turning away everytime things go wrong?"
"I—"
Mira threw out her arms, planting herself in the narrow space between them, like a dam between two crashing waves.
"Enough!" she shouted, her voice cutting clean through the rising chaos. "Both of you—stop!"
They froze, breathing hard, anger still simmering just beneath the surface.
"We don't have time for this. Not now." Mira's voice softened but didn't waver as she looked between them. "We're not gonna make it through this if we keep tearing each other apart."
The silence that followed was heavy—but it held. Tense, but whole. For now.