The rewrite

Crunket stands at the edge of the launch platform, his wings shaking slightly. His eyes flick toward the polished steel shell towering behind him - his great invention, his defiance against laws, his madness.

Today is the day.

The day the place higher than the sky stops being a dream and becomes a decision.

…

At the far edge of the mountain opening, krow soldiers flood through the gap they had sealed only days before. Three, then five, then ten soldiers smashing down from the hole. Their wings are equipped with blades that easily cut through stones. They wear cloaks with various colors.

Arthur steps forward without hesitation.

“Come over here, you armed ravens!” he yells, attracting the soldiers at him.

Spidaract and Asa stand behind him, ready to fight one versus fifty.

Vellithar and Drok are behind the team, escorting Crunket and the machine toward the launch clearing.

A soldier charges at them.

But Arthur sidesteps, slashing low with his dagger. He aims at their wings while they are flying, knocking them to the floor. He stares at the other krow soldiers with a face that looks like ones from the skalls.

Spidaract launches a thread at the ceiling and swings down, kicking a krow into the wall. He lands and rolls, then spins his body with unnatural elegance, flicking a heavy web ball toward a second.

Asa inhales sharply and raises her staff. The air condenses, then becomes a syrup-textured web that sticks the krows in the entrance.

Two soldiers get caught mid-flight, their speed when approaching Asa’s web slows down just enough for Arthur to leap and intercept them. He brings both down with staggering impact, but they don't stay down but just stunned.

“They are too many!” Asa shouts.

“We’re not trying to win!” Arthur replies. “Just stall as much time as possible!”

…

From the clearing behind them, the noise of mechanical wheels turning begins. The machine is being prepared before being put in the clearing where the crowd should be watching.

Drok and Vellithar are pulling it into place. It’s awkward and heavy, built from reinforced material meant for skies, not staggered caves or hills.

Vellithar wipes sweat from her forehead, snarling. “Faster!”

Crunket’s breath hitches. He’s no longer looking behind him, he’s already used all of his strength to push the machine.

“I can’t do this.”

Crunket stops pushing. His wings tremble.

Vellithar turns back. “Hurry!”

But Crunket doesn’t move.

“I thought I could. But this…this is suicide. Even if I make it up there… what if the place higher than the sky will make me like the king.”

Vellithar stares at him. Her tentacles are trembling, and eyes are wide and dark.

Then, without warning, she steps forward and furiously wraps him by the collar.

“Are you toscling kidding me!”

Her voice is sharp and her body turns red. When Crunket looks at her face, it shows clear signs of anger and disappointment.

“You think who you are! You think after everything you make you go through, you can just toscling retreat! You’ve talked about your stupid dream continuously from the day we met!”

She stops, her voice breaking.

“If you are stupid, be stupid for your whole time, get it?”

She tightens her grip. “Now continue to push this thing that you built, and don’t you even dare to stop. Think about the glory when you finish the mission or fantasizing about this place higher than the sky.”

Crunket’s eyes glisten. His throat tightens. And then…

He nods, not reluctantly.

Vellithar lets go.

…

Back at the lab, Arthur stumbles. His foot slips, and a krow’s wing grazes his cheek. He hisses through clenched teeth.

Spidaract catches the attacker mid-air and pins them with three threads before being flipped back and collapsing against the wall. Eight krows leap in, each holding one of his limbs.

Asa falls to one knee, already running out of mana. “Is that enough?”

Arthur looks up, past the soldiers and the battle.

He sees a glint.

It’s ready.

“We can take our rest now,” Arthur says. “He’s in position!”

Spidaract throws a final line of web toward the attackers, wrapping their eyes.

Arthur drops his dagger and bolts for the exit.

…

The crowd at the launch site has gathered from the morning.

The krow king, who wears a large crown and yellow-red clothes, stands near the edge of the platform with wings behind his back. He watches with solemn, unreadable eyes.

The elite soldiers cluster beside him, confused by his stillness. They await orders.

Crunket climbs into the stage.

Vellithar tightens the straps across Crunket’s chest. Drok steadies the back end of the machine with both claws then gives one solemn nod.

“You ready?” Vellithar whispers.

“No,” Crunket replies. “But do I have a choice?”

The machine hums. The internal potions react, releasing steam and pressure through the arcane compression valves.

One soldier steps forward.

He’s about to charge in.

The king raises his wing to gesture to the soldiers to stop.

Everyone freezes.

The only sound left is the wind and the growing tension of the launch coils.

…

Arthur bursts into the clearing.

His face is bloodied. His clothes are torn. Asa and Spidaract climb up beside him seconds later with the krows who know they’ve failed their mission, all bruised and gasping for air.

They arrive just in time to see Crunket launching skyward.

…

The king’s expression tightens.

A memory flashes in his mind, of his flight fifty years ago, of what he saw beyond the sky, of how it had broken him.

But now, he says nothing.

Crunket closes his eyes.

“Fire.”

With a thunderous CRACK, the machine releases its full potential.

A wave of wind blasts outward.

The launch platform lights up with flaming sigils.

Crunket’s body is launched like a silver comet piercing the clouds above and spinning briefly before correcting midair and soaring up, up, past the highest mountain tip.

The sky swallows him.

The king lowers his wing.

His gaze never leaves the sky.

A single tear runs down his cheek, unseen by the crowd.