Chaos. A chaos of light and sound. Of sound and pain… no, in truth, the latter isn’t that intense. But the confusion is immense: as though not only my body, but my very mind were being stretched through God knows what. Am I falling… or rising? Or moving sideways? Or all of these things at once?

  An infinite instant encapsulates all these sensations. A fragment of time in which I don’t know whether I’m awake, asleep, unconscious, or dead. A moment in which my thoughts seem to blend with the light that envelops and drags me along.

  Less than a point in the universe. In the vastness of creation, that’s what Earth is.

  All of a sudden, there it is: a vision of the world. A blue sphere I find myself observing from space.

  And yet, on this speck of dust adrift in the infinity of the cosmos, there exists an even smaller entity, whose actions are scarcely discernible among the events of its planet.

  Am I the one thinking this? Why? Is it, perhaps, due to the influence of whatever now appears before me, within this whirl of lights surrounding me? The image of Earth has been replaced by England… and then, by my school… and finally…

  … by me?

  Unaware, you move among your own kind, following the path traced by a contingent society. You live your life resigned to adversities. You passively tolerate hostility, and then you try to remedy the harm you have suffered.

  A new vision: Justin throwing one of my books onto the top of a locker.

  Without rebelling.

  I see myself struggling to retrieve the volume.

  Without fighting.

  Now, here’s an image of me sitting in class, gazing sorrowfully into space.

  Nevertheless, beneath the meekness of a lamb, you hide a very different nature. Isn’t that right, Ethan Knight?

  I can’t understand. Am I speaking to myself? Or… is someone else speaking to me?

  Yes, Ethan… there is a desire in you for another life. You want to fight. To change your condition.

  Indeed… it feels as though I’m receiving… no… absorbing thoughts.

  And even though your calm temperament restrains you, soon things will change, and events will strike you with such force that you will be unable to hold back.

  They are thoughts that do not belong to me… thoughts echoing from afar.

  Because fate, together with my own hand, will guide you along a long path, so that eventually the day will come…

  A lightning bolt from the sky. And once again, every image disappears, swallowed up by the swirling lights.

  … and you shall become my champion!

  A blinding flash. Then, all of a sudden, stillness. And I find myself standing… where? What place is this?

  It looks like an ocean… no, a lake… no, not even that. I can’t think clearly. It’s like an expanse of water, or perhaps vapour… bluish vapour merging with an endless sky. A vast, unreal landscape, with nothing to see. Nothing… except for a figure just a few metres away from me.

  In the instant my gaze lands on it…

  “Sophia… what have you done?”

  I hear it resonate: a voice. One whose language I can’t recognise… and yet it’s perfectly comprehensible to me.

  “I just wanted to understand,” comes the reply from a different voice.

  “It should never have existed!” exclaims the first voice.

  What? What am I hearing? Who is it? What are they talking about? And above all… when does this conversation date back to? Why… why does it feel like a distant memory?

  Just as I think this, the figure suddenly turns. And I see them: two sky-blue eyes that seem to shine in the face of a young girl. She has hair like gold, and is wrapped in a radiant aura that enfolds her, along with a white robe.

  A sight that makes my heart flutter. Because what stands before me conveys a sense of exceptionality and wonder beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.

  “… who…?” I begin to ask.

  “You are here.”

  With these words, the young woman addresses me, her eyes fixed on mine. And in her soft, gentle tone, I recognise one of the two voices I heard moments before.

  “Who… are you?” I ask, shaken.

  My mind still isn’t functioning. I’m far from lucid… all I can do is stare, spellbound, at this apparition… and pose that question to her.

  She answers with a sorrowful smile, and for a moment—almost reflecting her mood—her radiance dims.

  “I am the cause,” she states. “The cause of everything that has happened… and of everything that is about to happen.”

  As she speaks, something else is appearing. Or rather… it’s growing: a plant, right behind the woman, developing with astonishing speed…

  “The source of the mistake…”

  … and soon it becomes a tree with a wide canopy.

  “… and of the destiny that, for that reason, has been laid upon you.”

  The young woman’s arms lift slightly, her hands reaching out in a gesture that seems to convey both a plea for forgiveness… and an encouragement.

  “I… am Sophia,” she reveals. “And you, Ethan…”

  As she speaks, shapeless glimmers begin to envelop me again.

  “… you are the…”

  I feel my mind slipping back into unconsciousness. And as the light engulfs me, I cease to hear… to think… and finally, to see. Even the memories of what I’ve just witnessed and heard dissolve, leaving no trace.

  The only sensation that remains is that of plummeting into darkness.

  ???

  It’s the wind that wakes me, stirring my thick hair so that it lashes against my face. With difficulty, I begin to open my eyes. My vision returns slowly, and as it grows clearer, I realise something’s not right. Then I discover it isn’t the wind ruffling my hair: in fact, I’m upside down… and I’m falling!

  “AH…AAAAAAAAAAH!”

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Despite the pain coursing through every limb, I scream with all my might. There’s no ground beneath me. Only clouds, wherever I look. And I keep plummeting faster and faster.

  Blast… is all I can think, still dazed from having lost consciousness.

  As I pierce through the clouds, what looks like the peak of a mountain emerges from within them. Below me, the layer of cloud is opening up, letting me see something: the ground is rushing closer.

  I’m… about to… die!

  For a moment, I glimpse my reflection on a lake. Then I hit the water.

  The force of the impact is so terrible that I have no idea how I survive. But amid the utter confusion, the moment my descent halts, I start moving; instinctively, frantically, I push upwards with hands and feet towards the surface. Up, up, towards the light. Until, as I rise…

  … I break the surface with a gasp.

  I’m alive!

  I flounder for a few seconds, disoriented, then begin to swim blindly until I reach the nearby shore. Hauling myself onto the bank, I lie there panting. I’m trembling uncontrollably.

  My vision starts to fade again. Trying to clear it, I lift my head. There are clusters of trees not far away. I see two figures standing among the trunks. I attempt to focus on them, but before I can make out any details, I lose consciousness once more.

  ???

  When I open my eyes again, I find myself looking at a wooden ceiling. I groan as I feel pain all over. There’s something wet on my forehead. And come to think of it, I’m lying in a bed, with a blanket over me.

  Where am I?

  I turn my head to the side. I’m in a wooden room, with a door open onto a corridor. The place is bare, apart from a wardrobe and a bedside table. An old-fashioned lamp—one of those oil lamps—sits atop it. A faint light filters through the drawn curtains of a window.

  I… I fell into a lake, I think. But my clothes don’t feel wet. There’s only something damp on my head…

  While I try to get my bearings, I groan with the effort of pulling myself upright. However, when I lift my left arm, a stabbing pain shoots through my torso.

  That hurts!

  My arm jerks involuntarily to the side, and my hand strikes the lamp on the bedside table. It lands on the floor, where the glass part shatters. Almost instantly, a man appears in the doorway.

  I stare at him, so surprised that I let the wet thing on my forehead slip off: it’s a damp cloth.

  “Dawn!” the man calls, turning towards one end of the corridor. “He’s awake! And he’s broken the lamp too…”

  “I…I’m… sorry,” I stammer.

  “Don’t worry about it,” the stranger says, stepping into the room. “You can chop some firewood to pay me back.”

  The man has a brown beard and thick moustache. He’s dressed in a rather unusual way, not to mention his accent. The heavy boots on his feet make the wooden floor creak loudly.

  He doesn’t look like someone from the city… more like a farmer, or something along those lines. He must have helped me when I passed out.

  So, presumably, I’m in his home.

  “How do you feel?” the man asks, moving closer.

  “I…” I begin to reply.

  Someone else appears in the doorway: a girl with long hair somewhere between red and brown, styled so that it coils around two hair sticks before flowing freely down her back. Her light hazel eyes are large and expressive. She’s wearing a truly unusual outfit, apparently held together by numerous straps, which highlights her slender figure. She must be the person the man called out to just a moment ago.

  “Dad?” says the young woman.

  “Dawn, the lad needs another damp cloth,” the man states.

  “No, I’m fine!” I interject.

  “If you’re sure…” the other concedes, while his daughter steps closer. “Did you fall from an airship?”

  “What?” I say, puzzled by the odd question. “No, I… I really don’t know… an airship?”

  “Your plunge into the lake has had its effects, after all,” the stranger remarks. “Do you at least remember where you’re from?”

  “I’m from Hoddesdon,” I say with a nod.

  Well, specifically from Stanstead St Margarets. But that’s too obscure a place…

  “Hoddesdon?” repeats the bearded man, exchanging a perplexed glance with the young woman called Dawn. “Never heard of it. Which fragment is that on?”

  “Fragment?”

  “Yes, which fragment!”

  “I don’t think I understand… what do you mean by fragment?”

  “Blimey! You really did take quite a knock!” the man comments with amusement. “What am I supposed to call it? Great chunk of flying rock?”

  And he bursts out laughing.

  “I still don’t get it,” I say, more and more confused. “Anyway, Hoddesdon is near London.”

  “London?”

  “Yes, London.”

  “Is that supposed to be an important place?”

  “It’s the capital of England!”

  “England?” Dawn repeats, seeming just as baffled as her father.

  Who are these people? Could it be they really have no idea where we are?

  “Come on, you surely must know we’re in England: after all, you’re speaking English!” I insist.

  Though with a strange accent. But they don’t sound American. Maybe they’re Scottish?

  “Actually, we’re in the Maltian Republic, and we’re speaking Anglisc,” the man objects.

  “You’ve got a peculiar accent,” adds the daughter, coming closer. “From what you’re saying, it sounds like you’re a foreigner.”

  A foreigner? Me?

  “Might he be from the floating continent?” the man wonders. “It’s not as if there are any other nations in this super-archipelago besides Maltia.”

  “I’ll go and get a map,” the young woman decides, walking off.

  “Yes, good idea!”

  Dawn returns almost at once with the promised map. She unrolls the sheet and, without ceremony, places it in front of me. On it are numerous irregular shapes labelled with writing. Concentric lines seem to indicate elevations on those figures, yet the space between one outline and another is practically empty.

  “Here you go,” the girl says, pointing to a small shape. “We’re right here. Do you recognise the place?”

  “How am I supposed to read this map?” I ask, completely baffled by the symbols on the chart.

  “You’ve never read a map before?” Dawn asks in surprise. “Look, these are the floating islands—the fragments we told you about.”

  “Floating…” I repeat, initially perplexed, then growing more uneasy as I consider the strange things these two have been saying. “Floating… floating islands?”

  It’s like a sudden flash—an intuition born not from reasoning, but from something sparking at the edge of my consciousness. It shoots through my mind like an electric jolt, filling me with an unsettling feeling.

  Abruptly, I throw off the blanket and get out of bed. Pain is instantly forgotten as I stride towards the doorway of the room.

  “Wait!” the man calls after me. “You shouldn’t be getting up like that… where are you going?”

  Instead of replying, I break into a run and make for the door, under the astonished gaze of father and daughter. Once in the corridor, I dash off to the right, moving quickly in search of an exit.

  What’s happening? Where am I? I wonder, alarmed, as I round a corner and keep going without slowing down. These people are talking about absurd things, and yet… it can’t be. I must be imagining things!

  The house, largely made of wood, isn’t very big. In no time at all, I reach the second bend in the corridor. There, I find a door next to a window. I sense that the door leads outside, so I fling it open. Stepping across the threshold, I emerge into the open air.

  Sunlight illuminates a wood growing not far from the house. I don’t spend long taking in the surroundings. Seeing no roads, I simply head towards the trees, venturing among them.

  Why am I running into the forest? But first of all, why am I fleeing?

  I push my way through the foliage, ignoring the branches that scratch at me. The uneven ground and the constant stabs of pain in my torso make progress difficult, yet I keep going, undeterred.

  Is it because I’m afraid those two are crazy? Or is it because I believe what they’re saying?

  I’m practically beside myself: at this moment, only a blind determination to keep moving drives my actions. My mind is ruled by premonitions.

  They keep manifesting, stemming from the sensation I had just a moment ago. A sensation that is now blending with another awareness—one I am only now beginning to recognise… yet, in truth, I have felt it ever since I woke up. Something… it’s as though something invisible to the eye is out of place.

  Normally, that wouldn’t be enough to rattle me like this. But this isn’t a normal situation… not at all! And I feel an urgent need to see clearly, right NOW.

  Very soon, I spot the edge of the forest. I reach it and, gasping for breath, stop at the tree line. In front of me is a chasm.

  “Oh?!”

  I suddenly find myself short of breath. It isn’t really a chasm. It might look like a cliff, but there’s no sea below—only clouds. I realise I’m standing on the rim of a huge fragment of rock floating in the air among the clouds. At my feet is nothing but empty space.

  In the distance, swathed in layers of mist, other fragments drift in the void, defying gravity. A little nearer, two peculiar craft—shapes I’ve never seen before—zoom through the sky beneath my astonished gaze, trailing white smoke behind them.

  It’s all a bit too much for me to take in. My premonitions have just come true.

  “What… what’s going on?” I ask no one in particular.

  Suddenly, someone grabs me by the shoulders and yanks me back into the forest. It’s Dawn. Too shaken to resist, I let her do it. Once we’re under the cover of the trees, she makes me lean against a trunk not far from the drop.

  “Are you insane?” she scolds. “This is a restricted area! If they see you, there’ll be trouble!”

  “I…” I mutter, dazed.

  I can hear the noise of those craft rushing past nearby. Whatever they may be, they’re nothing like the aeroplanes I’m used to.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here!” Dawn says, seizing me by the wrist.

  Showing a fair amount of strength, she drags me through the forest. Feeling lost, I glance behind me one last time, then allow her to guide me away.

  I don’t think this is a situation I can easily get out of.

  ???

  The aircraft pull away from the floating island, disappearing from the sight of those on it. They speed among the fragments and slice through thick banks of cloud, shimmering under the intense sunlight. Eventually, they reach a clear stretch of sky. Then, in front of them, numerous other craft come into view—a great many of which are much, much bigger.

  Vastly different in appearance and size, these machines are divided into two factions engaged in a violent aerial clash. Bullets tear noisily through the air, taking out vessels from both sides. Beams of light and cannon shots streak from one craft to another, filling the skies with thunderous blasts.

  Inside one of the larger aircraft— which could best be described as a flying metal ship—a figure in an elegant uniform observes the battle through a wide window. A man in uniform addresses him formally:

  “The Resistance is retreating, sir.”

  “Pursue them without being noticed,” the other orders in a calm tone. “They’ll lead us to their hideout.”

  ahead of Royal Road?

  You can find them on my website:

  See you in the next chapter!

  Tonkipappero) for her wonderful illustrations!