View From Above

Rokuro’s fingers dug into the plated back of the Aetheralyx as wind roared past him. Beneath them, the Ironwood canopy spread like a steel sea, endless and unreal. Even with the surreal sights, his mind stuck on one thought.

“Fuck, I really did say something stupid, huh?” Rokuro sighed, voice nearly lost to the sky.

“I’m pretty sure Lykos won’t take offense.” Nero said, “Probably.”

“That’s not helping…”

Lykos had lost everything. His faith. His family. His love. And he still had the guts to fight back against the ones who took it all from him. And Rokuro just had to run his mouth.

“How long has he been here?” Rokuro asked.

“About 10 years?” Nero shrugged, “I was only 11 when he joined. At first everyone was extremely cautious of him. We even attacked him at the gates y’know.”

“You did?!”

“Yeah, and he knocked 3 of our scouts out cold before they could even land a hit. Then he said he only wanted to talk.” Nero spoke with a grin, “My father heard him out and to all of our surprise… he became one of us.”

“You mean the second in command.”

Nero shook his head, “That came later. At that point my father began to see how reliable he is. And my old man… well he’s not easily pleased by anything.”

“No shit.” Rokuro shuddered at the thought of the mountainous Warden Varuun.

The wind rushed past in heavy pulses, each beat of Lami’s wings making the air tremble underfoot. Rokuro still wasn’t used to it—the way the world looked from up here. Too small. Too quiet.

“Do you get outsiders frequently?” Rokuro spoke again.

“Not really. We do offer support for villages off the Ironwood Forest and on occasion take in some people if need be. The part of Emberhold you and Kagi live in serves that exact purpose.”

“Huh…” Rokuro thought back to Sana’s caramel skin. So that’s how non-natives found themselves amongst the Ironwood rebels.

“And how come the kingdom doesn’t deal with those villages at all?”

“Heh.” Nero scoffed, patting the back of the Aetheralyx, “Whenever their fancy little barrier isn’t protecting them, the Aetheralyx are their apex predators. Venturing outside it is suicide.”

Rokuro nodded silently. As far as he could see the rebels and Crystalor seemed to be in somewhat of a stalemate.

“Time for a landing, don’t you think?” Nero grinned, smug.

Rokuro looked around. 

“Unless you can land on a cloud… I don’t think so.”

“I know a place.” Nero winked and patted the Aetheralyx twice.

“WOAH!”

Lami dipped without warning, making Rokuro yelp.

“Are you trynna kill me?!”

“Shut up and grab on.”

The wind shifted from a roar to a smooth glide as the beast angled toward a high stone ridge. Flat, wind-carved, its surface was dotted with pale grass and white flowers swaying in the sun.

Her wings flared once on landing, then folded neatly as Rokuro slid off with shaky feet.

“What in the blue hell—“

And then he looked up.

The world spread out before him in layers.

Directly below stretched the Ironwood canopy, a steel-blue sea of twisted branches and knife-edged leaves that caught the sun like metal. Beyond that, the color shifted—normal forestland, rough and green, rolling toward the horizon. And farther still, faint through haze, Crystalor’s barrier shimmered like a fragile glass dome.

To the east, the land broke again—no forest, but harsh ridges and pale plateaus, jagged lines carved by wind and time. Even from here, Rokuro could imagine the small villages clinging on between them, like Ashvale.

Three worlds, all stitched together in one view.

None of it looked real.

Rokuro’s breath caught in his throat.

“…Whoa.”

He didn’t know what else to say.

He had seen cities. Fought in alleys. Seen movies… fiction…

But this?

This was something else.

Nero stepped beside him, arms folded, his mohawk catching in the breeze.

“This is where I come,” he said simply, “when I want the world to shut up.”

Rokuro looked at him, then back to the view.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “I get that.”

They stood in silence for a moment longer.

“Make yourself at home.” Nero simply said, walking over to Lami and patting her head. The Aetheralyx seemed to like the gesture, tilting its head down for more.

Rokuro sat down at a rock, arms dropping over his knees as he sucked in a breath.

“I really am… in another world, huh?”

As if Castles made of glass and flying titanic beasts weren’t enough… it seemed Rokuro really needed to see how different the landscape looked from earth to erase every doubt in his mind.

“What are you blubbering on about?” Nero sat next to Rokuro, kicking back like that rock was the most comfortable place in the world.

“You wouldn’t understand…” Rokuro sighed.

“Try me.”

Rokuro looked at Nero’s easy expression. The young man sighed again but then thought… what the hell, why not?

“You know I’m not FROM here, right?”

“You did say something like ‘my world’ back in the council…” Nero furrowed his brows, “Why’s that? I’m assuming you’re not referring to land you own?”

“Not even close.” Rokuro’s smile was crooked, “I mean that I come from another world. Another realm entirely. There we don’t have iron trees, or glass castles, or people with gray skin. Heck we don’t even have magic.”

“You don’t have magic?” Nero raised a brow, “Come on cut the crap, Lock boy.”

“See? That’s why I said you wouldn’t understand.”

“Okay, I take it back. And why the hell are you here right now?”

“Because…” Rokuro gulped, “That masked man I’m after he… he descended down on my world one day and destroyed everything. My family, my friends, my neighbourhood.”

Nero stayed silent. Rokuro’s knuckles turned white as his grip tightened at the memory.

“Next thing I remember, I woke up in a different world. Different from mine and different from this. They told me I was chosen, they told me I had to save everyone from that same man…”

“And then they sent you here?”

“Yeah…”

“Well that’s one crappy hero summoning.”

“You don’t say.” Rokuro scoffed with a laugh.

“And why do you keep going then?”

That question hit Rokuro deep.

“Because if I stop him… then whatever he did back in my world may be undone.”

Nero perked up at that, “Now that’s some serious motivation.”

“I just…” Rokuro gritted his teeth. Nero wasn’t as judgemental as he looked. In fact it was way easier to talk to him than he initially thought. Maybe that’s why the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“I just want to do something for my mother and sister. Just once. They… I was always a burden. Getting home late, getting into fights, skipping class. I distanced myself and… made everyone worry.”

Rokuro smiled bitterly.

“Now I just wish I could do it all again. And right this time.”

Nero didn’t speak immediately. He let Rokuro’s words hang in the air.

“And now you’re here with everyone’s expectations on your shoulders, huh?”

“Exactly.”

“You really are one shitty prophesized hero.”

Rokuro flinched. But didn’t take offense. He simply laughed. Nero was right after all.

“But to hell with prophecies and birthrights.”

Rokuro turned to look at him, brow raised.

“What I mean is… you have something to do. You! Not as Lock. But as Rokuro. You just focus on doing that and the rest well… it will sort itself out.”

“I don’t know if it works that way.”

“Sure does.” Nero grinned, “You gotta beat that masked guy, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Cool. The Lock has to beat him too. Rokuro needs to stop him as well. Your goals align.”

“What are you on—“

“Just keep trying. But for your own reasons.”

For his own reasons… but wasn’t he a hero? Wasn’t a hero supposed to think of the greater good?

“But I’m the Lock?”

“Yeah?” Nero laughed, “I only see Rokuro here.”

“This little…”

“What I’m saying is… you don't have to accept the responsibility of the savior just yet. For now focus on what you need to do.”

Rokuro pondered on that. On what he wanted, huh?

Suddenly a smile spread across his face. Nero’s reasoning may have been somewhat ridiculous but it still made the burden on his shoulders ease somewhat.

“And why in the blue hell are you so know-it-all?” Rokuro raised his brow.

Nero smirked. “Because I’ve been around.”

He leaned back, staring up at the sky. “When you grow up as the Warden’s son, you don’t exactly get to be a kid. You’re either training to live up to him—or disappointing him.”

Rokuro blinked. “That’s harsh.”

“Tell me about it.” Nero kicked a loose pebble over the cliff edge. “Everyone expects you to be a little version of the big guy. Same strength. Same voice. Same stubbornness. But I… wasn’t.”

He paused.

“I liked being quiet. I liked listening to the forest. To the Aetheralyx. But that wasn’t ‘strong’ enough. Not for him.”

Rokuro tilted his head. “Is that why you’re always hanging around Ava and Lami?”

“…They get me. Always did.”

Nero’s voice lowered slightly, more sincere.

“But the one who really understood was my mom.”

Rokuro stayed quiet. He could tell this part mattered.

“She was the one who kept the peace. Between me and him. When my father didn’t know what to do with me, she did. When I didn’t know who I was supposed to be, she never tried to change me.”

Nero’s eyes darkened.

“But she’s gone now. Passed when I was fourteen. She was always weak but the corrosion… she couldn’t fight it.”

“…Shit,” Rokuro muttered.

Nero shook his head. “Ever since then, it’s been… just me and him. But not really. It’s like we live next to each other. Not with each other.”

He smiled, but there was no joy in it.

“That’s why I hate being called the ‘Warden’s son.’ It’s not a title. It’s a prison.”

Rokuro looked at him for a long beat.

“…You really don’t talk much, huh?”

“Not unless someone’s worth talking to.”

There was a long silence. No more words needed.

“Well Rokuro…” Nero got up and stretched, “You ain’t the brat I thought you were.”

“Can’t say the same.” Rokuro scoffed, “you’re still an ass.”

“You know I can leave with Lami and you’ll be stuck here starving for eternity, right?”

The two exchanged a chuckle.

Rokuro wouldn’t admit it but… something about Nero reminded him of Kenji. Maybe it was the hair?

Then Lami shifted, wings flaring with a low, echoing cry that stirred something primal in the air.

“…What is it?” Rokuro blinked.

Nero’s gaze snapped toward the far edge of the valley.

Smoke.

A dark coil rose into the blue sky just beyond the Ironwood treeline—right where Emberhold sat.

His expression sharpened.

“Shit.”

Rokuro stood up fast, heart already racing.

Nero turned to Lami. “Get us there, now.”

She spread her wings in a massive gust of wind, crouching low to let them on.

Rokuro barely had time to grab on before the beast launched skyward again, the wind screaming past them.

No more laughter. No more calm.

Something had happened. And they were already too far behind.