Chapter 1: Stranded
The storm raged across the skies of Atmos, clouds crackling with electric energy. The battle had reached its peak—Aerrow, leader of the Storm Hawks, locked in fierce combat with Master Cyclonis, the ruthless ruler of Cyclonia. Each maneuvered their Sky Rides through the swirling storm, narrowly dodging one another's attacks.
The clash was like a dance of blades and sky energy. Cyclonis, ever the tactician, made her move first, conjuring dark crystal magic to disorient Aerrow. But he was quicker than she anticipated, parrying her attacks with his twin energy blades, the force of the impact sending them both spiraling into a dive.
"Aerrow!" Finn's voice crackled through Aerrow's earpiece, but the signal was weak, the storm causing interference.
He barely had time to register the call as Cyclonis closed in on him, her eyes gleaming with determination. They were too close now, too focused on each other to notice the dark mass of land below—the forgotten Terra that loomed beneath the clouds, hidden from the maps of both Cyclonia and the Sky Knights.
Another clash—Cyclonis's staff versus Aerrow's blades—sent both of them careening toward the ground.
"Brace for impact!" Aerrow shouted as he saw the jagged cliffs and overgrown jungle hurtling towards them.
The crash was violent. Both Sky Rides were shattered upon impact, pieces of metal and crystal scattering across the desolate Terra. The storm above raged on, their two teams hopelessly scouring the skies in search of their missing leaders.
Groaning, Aerrow pulled himself up from the wreckage. His body ached from the crash, but nothing seemed broken. Dusting himself off, he scanned the surroundings—towering cliffs, dense jungle, and no sign of civilization for miles. A deserted Terra.
"Great," he muttered, testing his comm, but all he got was static.
A rustle behind him snapped his attention back to the wreckage. From the shadows of the broken landscape, Master Cyclonis emerged, her cloak torn and her staff at her side, but otherwise unharmed. Her violet eyes locked onto his, cold and calculating.
"Of all the places..." Cyclonis growled, her voice low but sharp. "I had hoped that if we ever fell, it wouldn't be together."
Aerrow tightened his grip on his blades, still catching his breath from the crash. "Believe me, the feeling's mutual."
Cyclonis glanced at the wreckage, then up at the storm. "It seems we're stranded. I hope your Storm Hawks are more resourceful than I give them credit for."
"They'll find me," Aerrow said confidently, though he wasn't so sure himself. He had no idea where they were.
Cyclonis smirked. "And if they don't?"
"We'll see," Aerrow replied, standing his ground. "We've survived worse."
She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Worse than being stranded on a deserted Terra with your worst enemy?"
"Worse than being stranded on a deserted Terra with you," he shot back.
Cyclonis narrowed her eyes, annoyed by his persistence. Despite their enmity, there was no denying the situation they were in. They were alone, their armies far from them, and the terrain was unforgiving.
"Well, you're not going to survive without water or shelter. I suggest we find both before nightfall." Cyclonis's voice was cold, as if this was merely another problem to solve.
"I don't need your help," Aerrow said sharply, walking away from the crash site.
Cyclonis shrugged. "I don't need yours either. But I prefer not to die out here if it can be avoided."
Aerrow paused, glancing back at her. The storm still rumbled above, and the jungle ahead was dense, full of unknown dangers. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. They might have no choice but to cooperate—for now.
"Fine," Aerrow said begrudgingly. "But this doesn't mean I trust you."
Cyclonis's lips curled into a faint smile, almost as if she found the situation amusing. "Trust is irrelevant. What matters is survival."
They began walking, side by side, though there was still a clear distance between them. The tension hung thick in the air, neither willing to let their guard down for a second. As they pushed through the underbrush, the silence between them grew heavier, until finally, Cyclonis broke it.
"You still think you can stop me, don't you?" she asked, her tone curious rather than mocking.
Aerrow glanced at her, surprised by the sudden question. "I know I can. I've stopped you before."
Cyclonis scoffed softly. "You've only delayed the inevitable. Cyclonia will rise, Aerrow. With or without me."
Aerrow shook his head. "You don't get it, do you? It's not about power or control. The people don't want what you're offering."
She stopped walking and looked directly at him, her gaze piercing. "They don't know what they want. That's why they need someone strong to lead them. To guide them."
Aerrow held her stare, unflinching. "No. They need someone who believes in them, not someone who controls them."
For a moment, Cyclonis didn't respond. Then, with a sigh, she turned and continued walking. "Your idealism will be the death of you, Aerrow."
"Maybe," he replied, following her. "But at least I won't be alone when that time comes."
The jungle thickened as they moved deeper into the Terra, each step a reminder of how far from home they were. Stranded, perhaps, but not defeated. Neither of them would give up so easily—not on themselves, and certainly not on each other.
But for now, survival came first. Their rivalry could wait.
For a little while longer.