A fierce wind blows from paradise and lifts the wings of one who stand below on a plane abandoned, left behind by deficient and insouciant deities, scattering the dust of history over the discarded earth. The winged creature turns aside, looking over his shoulder at the realm that must now be his home, for he has been banished from the exalted spheres from whence he came. Only a fragment of that dominion remains, and, as the sun rips through clouds blackened and churned by the tempest roiling above, a glimmer of gold and effulgent pearl catches the light and reflects, for the briefest of instances, against the gray water below. The salt of the sea balloons through the air, and for a moment, stillness reigns, as if the earth was catching her breath, pausing for a moment in an attitude of stasis, lingering in the rarity of respite from its newfound liberty. For what is freedom, but effort? What is independence, but uncertainty? The earth and its inhabitants, like a prisoner released from chains, takes a trembling step from dungeons dark and unfathomable and bares its brow against the unforgiving light of dawn. - Chapter One, The Floating City
Posted on: Fri, 22 Aug 2014 05:35:01 +0000