Kael and Riven trekked across a floating bridge of vines and stone, crossing from one sky-island to another. The wind was strange here—thick with magic, alive. Birds with crystalline wings darted between clouds. A floating whale made of wind and starlight passed overhead, singing softly.
Then they saw it: nestled in the side of a floating cliff, a town built into massive turning gears. Steam vents puffed from metal towers, and floating gondolas buzzed from one level to another like bees.
Skyreach.
A mix of tech and magic. Elves and humans. Golems and floating spirits. A place that looked like it had seen its share of adventure—and knew how to profit from it.
As they walked through the gates, eyes turned. Two strangers, dressed in battle-worn gear, carrying weapons that hummed with energy? Yeah. They stood out.
They found a vendor's square full of strange goods—floating herbs, soul-gems, spell-ink, lightning batteries—and stopped near a mechanic working under a levitating forge.
Kael leaned on the counter. "Hey. We're new. How do people make money here? What's worth anything?"
The mechanic, a grizzled dwarf with sparks in his beard, raised an eyebrow. "Ah, fresh off the rift, eh? Welcome to Skyreach. Here, you trade in arcshine—bottled energy, rare materials, enchanted scraps. People mine storm-cores from skybeasts, harvest lightroot from floating groves. Currency's just magic turned physical."
Riven pulled a pack from her belt, opening it just enough to reveal what they'd salvaged from the hidden base—rune-etched gear, minor spell scrolls, rare glowing crystals.
The dwarf's eyes lit up. "Well now… that's not bad at all. Could fetch you tools, shelter, even some local maps."
Kael glanced around. "We'll need gear. Supplies. Information. Maybe a ship, eventually."
The dwarf nodded. "Plenty of ways to earn. Hunters bring in beast parts. Explorers chart new islands. Or… if you're bold, you could take a contract from the Riftguard. They pay well for anyone stupid enough to poke at the Dragon King's territory."
Riven smirked. "Sounds like our kind of work.