Aarav didn't land.
He ran across the sky.
Each step crushed the air beneath his feet, shockwaves rippling like shattered glass. Clouds tore apart as he moved, lightning lagging behind him like something too slow to matter.
For the first time, he wasn't flying.
He was forcing the sky to keep up.
His heartbeat matched the rhythm of the wind—fast, violent, unstoppable. The city disappeared behind him, then the mountains, then the horizon itself bent.
The world began to lose its names.
Buildings were no longer buildings.
Oceans were no longer oceans.
Everything became streaks of color and pressure.
And then—
Pain.
Aarav screamed as blood burst from his nose, ears, eyes. His bones felt hollow, vibrating like they were about to shatter. The voice from the clouds returned, colder now.
"This speed is forbidden."
"Then why give it to me?" he shouted back.
"We didn't."
The air ahead of him collapsed.
A wall of absolute stillness appeared—no wind, no sound, no motion. Aarav smashed into it at impossible speed.
The impact erased the sky.
He woke up on stone.
Cold. Cracked. Ancient.
He gasped, coughing blood, limbs shaking. Above him was no sky—only a vast ceiling carved with symbols that pulsed faintly like stars trapped in rock.
He wasn't alone.
Footsteps echoed.
A figure stepped into the dim light—tall, wrapped in torn white cloth, eyes glowing faint blue.
"You finally crossed it," the stranger said calmly.
Aarav struggled to stand. "Crossed what?"
The man smiled, not kindly.
"The limit."
He turned and pointed to a massive fracture in the ceiling, light leaking through like a wound.
"The sky you broke," he continued, "doesn't belong to this world anymore."
Aarav's chest tightened.
"Then where am I?"
The man's eyes burned brighter.
"Where all runners end up," he said.
"When the sky can no longer hold them."