The plaza was packed when Lloyd flew over. The air was cracking with anticipation. Flags bearing the crest of the Knight Academy and Skyloft snapped and danced in the wind, along with strings of colorful banners strung all over. Even more pinwheels than normal had been put up all over the plaza as well. The stands were full to the brim with spectators eager to watch the race. Many loftwings were also milling around on the ground by the stands, secure in knowing that their riders wouldn't be needing them for flying at the moment. Thankfully, no one looked angry about the delay. Some looked concerned, but not angry.
As Lloyd swooped down into the race area, a ripple of cheers broke out from the crowd. He could pick out Kai's especially loud shout and he spotted his friends all sitting together in one of the stands to his left. He waved at them as he hopped off his bird and hurried to where the others participating in the ceremony were gathered. As he joined their ranks, the first peal of the bells rang out across the island, signaling to everyone the race was about to start.
"Lloyd," Mavis greeted. The brunette looked relieved. "You found your bird! Is he okay? Is he good to race? What happened?"
"Yeah, where'd you find him?" Avel asked.
Lloyd eyed Groose, who was standing off to the side looking very displeased, as he answered, "Someone penned my bird up in one of the caves behind the source waterfall."
Mavis and Avel's eyes widened but before either could say anything, Groose was strutting forward, pushing past them to get in Lloyd's face.
"Well, this is just great," Groose sneered. "Because you and your dumb bird can't tell time-" Lloyd twitched, holding himself back. "-all the prerace warm-ups me and the guys did were for nothin'. Now I'm all stiff." The taller boy rolled his shoulders. "We've been waiting forever for the race to start, and they delay it for you?" Groose glared down at him, unjustified indignation drenching his expression. "I don't get it. The big flake gets special treatment? You're almost a man, and yet you still can't seem to go anywhere without Zelda or-"
"Shut up, Groose," Morro snapped, stalking forward.
Groose's gaze flicked to his friend in annoyance. Lloyd wished Morro was speaking up for Lloyd's sake, but he knew he wasn't. His cousin just wanted the satisfaction of beating Lloyd in the race. He would have been livid if Lloyd had been forced to forfeit. This was just part of his superiority complex or inferiority complex or whatever his issue was.
Morro turned to Lloyd, a smirk twisting his lips. "I'm glad you found your bird, Lloyd," he drawled. "Now everyone will be able see the difference between someone actually good at flying and someone who just flaps their wings and hopes for the best."
Lloyd rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, Morro. Think up a good jab at least. You can't pretend I'm not a good flier. Everyone knows I'm a good flyer."
Morro scoffed. "You have some natural talent, sure. But some of us actually put effort in. You can't go through life thinking everything will just be handed to you on a silver platter."
"Oh, I know you aren't going to just hand me the win, Morro," Lloyd sighed, exasperated. "Believe me." A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. "So no complaining when I win. In fact, I'll be wanting a written and signed admission that I do train and practice. Because you know I do, and I don't know why you keep pretending I don't." He knew his training regime wasn't as rigid or intense as Morro's and he found the desk-bound lessons boring. That didn't mean he wasn't putting in the work.
Lloyd didn't understand why Morro always acted like Lloyd's very existence insulted him. Lloyd had tried everything to mend their relationship, they'd gotten along fine as kids. He didn't know why that had changed. He'd tried apologizing for perceived slights. He'd tried open communication, laying bare his own feelings. He'd even tried to emulate Morro's harsher training style to earn his approval. He'd run errands, done favors, anything to bridge the gap. But nothing worked. When he tried to adjust to his cousin's criticisms, it was either not good enough or Morro would simply switch gears and latch onto some new grievance. Eventually, Lloyd had stopped really trying.
"You're not going to win," Groose interrupted, the booming voice an unwelcome intrusion. Lloyd felt a surge of annoyance at the brute's constant need to insert him into everything. "Zelda's sailscloth is as good as mine," Groose declared, puffing out his chest. Then his expression grew moony. "And we're going to have our special moment up on the Goddess Statue, just the two of us." Ew. Lloyd mentally shuddered. He really had to win this. For Zelda's sake. And, y'know, getting his night license, moving into the same class as his friends, etc. Lloyd had a lot riding on this race. He had to win.
Lloyd could tell Morro was holding back an eyeroll, but he didn't lash out at his friend. "Sure, Groose. Just fly your best." Then he spun around and stalked over to the starting line. Groose shot Lloyd a smug look and sauntered after Morro.
"We should go too," Lloyd said to Avel and Mavis. Out in the open expanse of sky beyond the plaza, the seniors were finishing up their extended airshow. It was supposed to just be a quick show before the ceremony, but they'd dragged it out to buy Lloyd more time. Their grand finale painted the sky with bright strokes of color- three loftwings soaring in perfect sync, trailing plumes of smoke to create the crest of Skyloft. Lloyd was grateful they'd been so prepared and had been able to make the wait more bearable.
Both older teens nodded. "Not that either of us have a chance," Avel joked, not sounding upset about it. "Everyone knows this race is either yours or Morro's to win, Lloyd."
"Yep," Mavis agreed. "But no one is going to judge us with competition like this."
"You never know," Lloyd encouraged. "Me and Morro might be so busy swiping each other that one of you could swoop in for the win." Lloyd didn't intend to let Morro distract him like that, but he couldn't just tell the two they had no chance of winning. "And it's still a great time to show off your skills to Skyloft either way."
"That's the way I'm looking at it," Mavis grinned. "And then everyone will know I'll pass next semester for sure."
"Next semester will be a bit bigger too," Avel added. "There'll be enough for three races, so more spots available."
The three of them headed to the starting line and Lloyd could hear the excited chatter of the crowd growing louder. As they approached, Lloyd's father hurried over to meet him. Avel and Mavis continued to their starting positions, but Lloyd held back to talk to his dad. The man was wearing the headmaster gi for the ceremony which stood in stark contrast to the worry etched on his face. Lloyd felt bad that he'd probably added a few more silver threads to his already greying brown hair. "Lloyd, are you alright?" his dad asked, voice laced with concern. "Is your bird okay?" His worried gaze swept over Lloyd, searching for any sign of injury, his eyes lingering on his son's face as if he expected to find some hidden wound.
"I'm fine, dad," Lloyd assured. "Really. Let's just start the race. Everyone's been waiting long enough."
His dad's eyes narrowed. "Did you find out who messed with your loftwing? Was it cultists or someone from Skyloft?"
"Someone from Skyloft," Lloyd answered. "But we can deal with that later."
"Lloyd, if it was Groose," his dad began, voice rising with barely suppressed anger and eyes blazing. His dad could have quite a temper. Especially if he thought someone was threatening his family. "he should be disqualified from the race. Possibly even expelled from the academy. He can't-"
Lloyd cut his dad off. "Later, dad. I want him to lose the race fairly." He let out a short sigh. "And I'm sure he wasn't trying to kill me or anything." Lloyd had just happened to be in the one place that hadn't had rescue knights at the time. "He's just dumb. He can be punished later. We don't need to cause a scene and dampen everyone's spirits even more right now." Groose would kick up a massive tantrum if they tried to boot him out right now and the rest of Skyloft didn't need to deal with that. And Groose had no chance of actually winning the race, so they didn't need to worry about his behavior being rewarded.
His dad's mouth twitched, not looking pleased, but nodded. "Fine," he conceded. "We'll address it after the race." Then he smiled and nodded at Lloyd to go to the starting line. His angry expression softened into gentle pride. "Fly well, Lloyd. I know you'll do great."
"Of course I will," Lloyd responded cheerfully, lightly bumping his dad's shoulder. "They'll put me in the history books for how fast I reach knighthood."
His dad smiled fondly. "No need to rush things quite that much. Take your place, son. I'm going to go give the opening speech."
Lloyd's place was, unfortunately, between Morro and Groose. Both boys glared at him as he joined them; Morro predatory and Groose annoyed. Ugh, they were both taller than him too. He was glad Cawlin was here, so Lloyd wasn't the shortest in the lineup. He and Mavis were about the same height, though Mavis might be a tad taller.
A few feet away, on a raised podium, stood his uncle Wu. His uncle was also wearing his gi for the ceremony, blonde hair neatly combed. Beside him was his pale gold loftwing, looking over the racers with keen interest. Wu gave Lloyd a happy nod in greeting. For some reason, the action made Morro's face twist petulantly.
"I'm glad you made it in time," Wu said warmly.
"You could at least pretend you want me to win, old man," Morro sneered, a bitter edge to his voice. Lloyd blinked at his cousin, surprised. Why wouldn't Wu be happy if Morro won? Of course he would. Was Wu not even allowed to be friendly towards Lloyd now?
Frustration passed over Wu's face, but it was gone quickly. "I'll be very happy if you win, Morro," he assured, warm and sincere. "And we'll celebrate your victory." He paused, looking down at Morro tenderly. "But even if you don't win, I'll be immensely proud to see you fly so well. You don't-"
"I'll win," Morro snapped. "I don't need you to be 'proud' of some pathetic participation trophy." His words dripped with scorn. "Now shut up and do your job for the ceremony."
Sadness clouded Wu's face, but he didn't attempt to argue with his son further. Lloyd bristled on his uncle's behalf. Why did Morro always have to be such a jerk? And uncle Wu had always been great to Morro. He didn't deserve Morro's stupid angst.
"Stop being a baby, Morro," Lloyd hissed quietly. Morro turned to snap at him, but stopped himself when he saw that Garmadon had stepped onto the podium. A hush fell over the crowd as the headmaster raised his megaphone to address the crowd.
"Your attention please," his dad began. "At last, we are ready to begin the Wing Ceremony. I was beginning to worry that we'd have to proceed without Lloyd, but luckily, that is no longer a concern. Before we begin, I will explain the rules of today's competition."
Lloyd shifted on his feet excitedly. Only a couple minutes now…
"I have attached a small statuette to this bird," his dad continued, nodding to Wu's bird. Lloyd could see the carved wooden bird statue hooked on a chain tied to the bird's foot. Once Lloyd had that… "who will be released into the skies. The boundaries have been marked with the orange flags you see there-" he gestured out to the sky. "This is a simple test, yet requires great skill. Whoever catches the bird and claims the statuette will be the winner and will pass to the next step on the path to knighthood. When the whistle blows, the racers may begin their pursuit."
Glancing out into the vast expanse of skies where the race would take place, Lloyd tried to guess what tricks his uncle's bird might try to throw at them. This wasn't going to be easy. His uncle's bird was a skillful flyer and would be lighter without a rider. And with this being a test, the bird would throw all kinds of aerial acrobatics at them. Even without the other riders trying to cut each other off, this would be a true test of skill.
"It is the goddess who grants us our birds," his dad said, gazing up at the swirling tapestry of loftwings circling overhead. "She protects us and provides for us." He sounded so sure, so certain of the goddess's benevolent intentions. He was so glad his dad had turned away from the cult's bizarre, anti-goddess beliefs and returned home to them. "This statuette is a symbol of the sacred bond between rider and bird. Thus, when the winner claims the statuette, he or she shall fly to the Great Goddess statue, along with the young lady chosen to play the role of the goddess this semester, the lovely Zelda. The winner shall then offer the statuette to the goddess in gratitude for her divine gift and complete the ceremony with Zelda." He turned towards the racers. "Do any of you have any questions before we begin?"
All the racers shook their heads. Avel fidgeted slightly, looking nervous. Cawlin and Stritch, on the other hand, seemed oddly unconcerned, their expressions bordering on nonchalant. They likely knew they were long shots and weren't even going to try to win. Mavis, however, radiated eagerness, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Groose wore his usual smug grin, as if the race were a formality and the prize was his for the taking. Morro, in stark contrast, was the picture of intense focus, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the sky, his mind clearly already mapping out his flight strategy.
Garmadon gave a curt nod. "Very well. Prepare yourselves. You may begin when the whistle blows, not a moment sooner." Wu's bird took off, giving the bird a head start on the racers. Anticipation surged through Lloyd, a thrilling mix of excitement and nervous energy bubbling in his veins. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his palms were slightly sweaty. But beneath the flutter of nerves, a sense of exhilaration bloomed. He was ready.
Lloyd was bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to move at a moment's notice. So when the whistle pierced the air, he surged forward like a coiled spring unleashed. He felt someone bump his shoulder hard as they passed him (Groose), but it didn't slow him down. He launched himself off the platform, the wind rushing against his face as he plummeted momentarily before he called for his bird. A flash of green feathers appeared underneath him and Lloyd reached out and grasped his bird's strap.
Around him, the other racers were also mounting their birds, the air filled with the flapping of wings and the excited cries of the loftwings. Above him, the sleek, dark silhouette of Morro's loftwing blotted out a patch of the bright sky. Below, Cawlin struggled to get settled on his reddish-brown bird, while Stritch, looking only slightly less awkward, perched atop his pale green companion. To his right, Mavis had already found her seat on her sturdy brown loftwing, her posture radiating confidence. He scanned the horizon, searching for his uncle's loftwing. There! A flash of pale gold off in the distance to his left.
Lloyd urged his loftwing forward, setting a course for his uncle's loftwing. He wasn't the only one who'd spotted him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Morro, Groose, and Avel also angling their birds towards the same target. Knowing that a swift descent would be more effective than a labored climb when he got closer, Lloyd gained altitude. The wind whipped through his hair as he ascended, the figures below getting smaller.
Morro and Groose, mirroring Lloyd's tactic, were also climbing higher into the sky. Avel, however, opted for a different approach. He remained lower, skimming closer to the cloud barrier, perhaps hoping that the higher riders would force Wu's loftwing downwards, driving it into his reach. It was a reasonable strategy and kept him from directly having to fly near more talented fliers like Morro and Lloyd. But Lloyd would wait until everyone was closer to the target before pulling strategies like that. Right now, his primary objective was clear: reach Wu's loftwing as quickly as possible. Every second counted.
Lloyd dodged Groose and his dark blue bird as the other boy tried to ram into his side, moving his bird out of their path with a graceful arc. He and his bird were perfectly in sync, his loftwing responding to the slightest shift in his weight, the merest suggestion of a tug on the reins. He hadn't even turned to look at Groose. He kept his eye on Wu's loftwing, which had entered a passing cloud, making him much more difficult to see. He couldn't lose sight of him, or he'd have to waste time finding him again.
Inside the cloud, it became even harder to see. Lloyd wished his uncle's bird were a brighter color. It was far easier to see the other competing birds than it was to see his uncle's bird. Morro especially stood out with his bird's dark colors. His cousin was dipping downwards to follow Wu's now rapidly descending bird.
Lloyd plunged after them, his loftwing responding instantly. Suddenly, something large and oddly shaped zipped past his face, startling him. It was far too small to be a loftwing, and it definitely wasn't one of the floating rocks that dotted the Skyloftian landscape. What was-?
He banked sharply, turning back to see Cawlin, his face a mask of mischievous glee, hurling large, oval projectiles at him. Eggs, Lloyd realized, likely pilfered from the kitchens, and they were coming at him fast.
Lloyd bristled, narrowly dodging the next egg hurled his way. Cawlin, and likely Stritch as well, weren't even trying to win the race! They were just helping Groose and Morro. Was this cheating? It was a murky gray area. Technically, there were no explicitly stated rules against such tactics. Racers were allowed to get in each other's way, and while the eggs were certainly annoying, they wouldn't cause any real harm if they hit him, just slow him down or knock him off course. And there was no written rule against projectiles. However, it definitely went against the spirit of the competition. And surely, intentionally not trying to win while actively assisting another racer had to violate some rule. But proving it would be difficult. Cawlin and Stritch could always claim they were acting in their own self-interest, that they were trying to improve their own standing in the race. No one would believe them, but it couldn't really be proven untrue.
Dodging yet another egg, Lloyd couldn't help but feel a grudging admiration for Cawlin's surprisingly accurate aim. Honestly, being able to hit a moving target while soaring through the air like that was a skill in itself. But Cawlin's barrage couldn't last forever. He'd surely run out of eggs soon; those things were practically the size of pumpkins, and Lloyd couldn't imagine he'd stashed that many.
Sure enough. No more eggs were thrown in his direction. Lloyd felt a surge of triumph that he'd endured the attack. He hadn't been throw off the trail, he was still closing in on Wu's loftwing, neck and neck with Morro, both of them vying for the lead. The pale gold bird, however, was heading straight towards a treacherous section of the sky, a region notorious for its unpredictable winds. Here, currents collided and swirled, creating small, short-lived mini-twisters that could buffet even the most experienced fliers. A tricky area to navigate, but Lloyd had been through such places many times. In fact, this was a great opportunity to gain more sky while others fell behind.
A mini-twister materialized to Lloyd's far right, but it was too distant to pose a threat. He felt the telltale shift in the air, the subtle change in pressure that heralded the formation of another one, and preemptively veered away before it could fully form. Morro, with his usual skill, was also navigating the treacherous air currents with ease. Mavis, too, was managing to avoid the swirling vortexes, her loftwing responding deftly to her commands. Cawlin, however, wasn't so lucky. A sudden, violent gust of wind caught him off guard, and he was unceremoniously knocked off his bird. The mini-twister dissipated as quickly as it had formed, and Cawlin's loftwing, with admirable loyalty, dove to catch his rider. But that was a lot of lost sky while Cawlin was tumbling through the air. He was likely out of the race completely now, so far behind that catching up would be nearly impossible. He wouldn't even be able to try and sabotage Lloyd anymore.
Sensing the gathering energy that heralded the birth of another mini-twister, Lloyd angled his loftwing perfectly. As the air currents began to swirl, he banked sharply away, the pre-twister winds giving him a tremendous boost, a surge of speed that propelled him forward. He shot ahead. He was in front of Morro now! His uncle's loftwing was now so close, only about thirty feet away. Lloyd's body was tingling with excitement. He was so close…
They were out of the twister field now. Lloyd noticed his uncle's loftwing's eyes flick back, a quick, assessing glance in his direction. The golden bird then abruptly shifted into a steep dive, tucking its wings close to its body as it aimed for a narrow passage between two small, rocky islands. Lloyd did the same. The rough, craggy walls of the islands seemed to rush past, inches from his loftwing's folded wings, the air whistling through the tight gap. They squeezed through the narrow passage, emerging on the other side in hot pursuit. He sensed Morro close behind, also executing the tricky dive with his usual precision. Then, a sharp yelp pierced the air, followed by the frantic flapping of wings. Lloyd glanced back to see Mavis's loftwing struggling, her left wing now moving awkwardly. The poor bird had clipped the rocky wall of the passage and Lloyd winced sympathetically.
He was only fifteen feet away now, the statuette dangling tantalizingly from the chain trailing behind Wu's loftwing. Grabbing it mid-flight would be a delicate maneuver, requiring precision and timing. Any movement from Wu's bird could move the statue out of his reach. Catching up wasn't a guaranteed victory, but it was a crucial step, and he was so close. Ten feet. Five feet. He was practically on the golden bird's tail feathers now, the wind whipping past him as he matched its speed. Lloyd extended his arm, reaching out, his fingers stretching towards the statuette as it danced and tumbled in the slipstream behind Wu's loftwing.
He startled backwards as something almost collided with his head. He turned. "Stritch!" he shouted angrily. The tall boy was hurling eggs at him from his left. Thinking back, Lloyd realized that Stritch hadn't even attempted to navigate the treacherous mini-twister field. The boy had gone around in case no one had caught the bird in the field to lie in wait. The tall boy chuckled thuggishly and suddenly Groose was banking into Lloyd's space and Lloyd just barely managed to avoid crashing. To his amusement, an egg intended for Lloyd, connected squarely with Groose's shoulder, the impact sending the larger boy stumbling awkwardly to the right and dipping downwards. Lloyd snickered, but rushed into action when he realized Morro had gotten ahead of him and was on Wu's birds tail-feathers, reaching for the statue with a victorious gleam in his eyes.
Lloyd gained altitude then went into a dive to gain speed. He was practically glued to Morro's tail feathers now, the gap between them shrinking with every beat of his loftwing's powerful wings. Morro's bird, sensing the presence behind them, glanced back and gave Lloyd an angry screech. But Morro, his gaze locked on the statuette, didn't even turn to acknowledge Lloyd. He was so consumed by the prize, so blinded by the prospect of victory, that he seemed oblivious to everything else, including the subtle shift in the air. "Morro!" Lloyd called out in warning without thinking. Wu's loftwing, sensing the change in the wind, had already begun to adjust his flight path, anticipating the coming turbulence. But Morro, lost in his single-minded pursuit, was caught completely off guard. His eyes widened in surprise as he was suddenly slammed sideways by the leading edge of a mini-twister, the swirling winds buffeting his loftwing and throwing him off course. Morro had failed to notice that they'd veered back into twister territory again. This was Lloyd's chance.
Lloyd rushed forward, following Wu's bird's movements to keep in line with the statue. He was forced to momentarily pull back as another mini-twister began to swirl into existence. But Lloyd was relentless. He deftly maneuvered his loftwing and was soon back on the golden bird's tail. His fingers brushed against the smooth surface of the statuette, but he couldn't get a firm grip on it. It slipped through his fingers. Undeterred, Lloyd adjusted his approach and the next time he reached out, his fingers closed around the statuette, finally plucking it free from its hook.
Lloyd whooped, a triumphant cry echoing across the sky as he held the statuette aloft. "Lloyd got it!" Avel's voice drifted up from below. The distant cheers of the watching Skyloftians could be heard even from here and the bellow of the ceremonial horns signaled the end of the race, proclaiming Lloyd as the victor. A surge of pure, unadulterated triumph coursed through Lloyd. He'd done it! He'd actually won! The thought of moving to the new class, joining his friends, and all the opportunities that awaited him filled him with exhilaration.
He turned his loftwing back towards Skyloft, a wide grin splitting his face as he set course to retrieve Zelda. He didn't look back to see Morro's reaction. He knew it wouldn't be pretty. But Lloyd had won fair and square, and Morro would just have to deal with it.