Ascension

“Don’t get thrown near my house this time!”

Jordan’s voice cracked across the garden as Ray rocketed into the clouds.

Ray smirked mid-flight, the cold slicing at his cheeks.
“I’ll aim for the other side!”

Above him, thunder boiled. The sky was filled with a violent storm. 
Below him, the world vanished, growing smaller and smaller as Ray soared upward.

For two weeks, Ray had trained alone —
choppy takeoffs, brutal landings.
Endless bloodied palms, bruised ribs, and broken vines.
But now?

Now he could fly.

Not like Dean — not with grace.
Not like Marsden — not with raw speed.
Not like Trey — not with that violent rhythm of shadows.

But he could finally 

He could soar.
He could fall and catch himself.
And he could fight.

He burst through the stormclouds.

Peace.

The sun beamed down on a world untouched by man.
The sky stretched wide and endless, painted in colors too sharp to be real. As if God himself took an eon to hand craft this place above the clouds.

Then — a screech.

The dragon tore through the blue like a divine punishment, wings wide and tail like a war banner.
Its eyes locked onto him.

A Blue-Eyed Totem hung from its neck, swaying like bait.

Ray hovered, arms loose at his sides.
Then whispered:

“You son of a bitch. Think I’d just let you leave after throwing me off?.”

The dragon shrieked —
a deafening war-cry that shattered the sky.

Fire exploded from its jaws.

Ray dove, the heat slicing past his face.

He fired a volley of blue time-magic, spiraling through the smoke.
The blast slammed the dragon’s side, forcing it to stagger mid-air — but not falter.

A claw whipped around like a whip.

CRACK.

Ray was flung downward, crashing through the clouds and into the heart of the storm below.

Wind shredded his balance. Rain lashed his skin.

He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe.

Then — the dragon again. It punched through the sky above like a demon being pulled into another world.

Its claw caught Ray midair, raking across his chest and slamming him into a jagged peak.

Ray coughed blood, body screaming.
He looked up, dazed.

The dragon landed with a boom that cracked the mountain face.

Ray shoved himself up, hands shaking.

He whispered to himself, “How the fuck would they do this…”

Dean.
Fly like Dean. Dance through chaos.

Ray shot into the air again, zig-zagging through the storm.

The dragon swiped — Ray ducked low, using his time warp to distort his path.

Trey.
Use the enemy’s momentum. Hit when they don’t expect.

The dragon twisted, unbalanced.
Ray shot blue bursts beneath him, jetting forward like a rocket.

He slammed into the dragon’s underbelly, time-freezing his own body at the last moment to avoid the recoil.

Marsden.
Laugh in the face of pain. Charge like thunder.

Ray launched into the wind as if letting the wind guide his path. The dragon leaped into the air to follow Rays every move.

The dragon spun, tail lashing wide —
but this time, Ray was ready.

The tail moved slower. Not physically, but in Ray’s perception.
He’d gotten faster.
Sharper.

He slipped it like a whisper and countered.

A precise beam of time-magic, focused like a scalpel, sliced through one of the dragon’s wings.

The beast roared — flailing mid-air.

It began to fall.

So did Ray. Plummeting through the sky just underneath the dragon.

He was drained.
Flight magic flickered out like dying embers.

The dragon reached out mid-fall, claw extended to crush him with one final swipe.

Ray, breath ragged, fired one last blast of time energy toward the creature’s exposed chest —
a final act of defiance.

The blue beam pierced straight through the dragon’s heart. Soaring through the rest of the sky and splitting the storm clouds above. Light. The faintest glimmer of warmth gleams down.

They collided in a crater of snow and shattered rock.

Everything went white.

Ray lay beneath a mountain of ice and beast.

He couldn’t move.
Couldn’t feel.

The last thing he saw before the dark pulled him under —
was the faint, pulsing glow of the Blue-Eyed Totem clutched in his hand.

He awoke, again, in Jordan’s cabin.
Wrapped in vines.
Wrapped in life.

He laughed, weakly.
It hurt.

Outside, voices murmured.

A woman’s voice:
“Ray is ordered by the Grand Chancellor to present at the Republic’s royal crowning ceremony. One week.”

Jordan’s voice, dry as ever:
“I don’t know any fucker named Ray. And get off my damn flowers, you fucking tool!”

Ray leaned his head back against the pillow.

He stared at the wooden ceiling above him.

A slow smile crept across his cracked lips.

He had no brothers beside him.
No allies at his side.

But he had something now.
A mission.
A will.

He had a reason to keep going.