Light streamed through the open window in the little cottage. Wisps of clouds fought with the light for a way through the window. A gentle breeze flitted through skimming past the mist and woke the young lady up; she was lying face-down on her bed. She opened her eyes slightly for a brief moment and sighed contently.

A second breeze, colder than the first, urged her to get up. Frowning, she forced her eyes open and pulled herself up on the bed. Another breeze chilled her. She took a deep breath in and relished the fresh air. It let the last of her drowsiness float away with the wind. Pushing her bedcovers aside, she got up from her bed and trotted lazily over to the window. Taking a second to evaluate the window frame, she stepped across to the lawn outside the house.

The grass crumpled beneath her feet while a few blades managed to slip through the gap between her toes. She tightened her grip on them to get a feel for the ground. It felt mildly wet. She sauntered to the other end of the lawn and rested her hands on the old fence. She clung to the damp wood and leaned across the other edge.

The Sun shone brightly from the East and its luminance diffused in the clouds draped on the morning sky. Off to the North, Zephyr Haven hung in the air calmly. The largest island in The Archipelago, the Zephyr Haven was the centre of all attention. Already, people were flocking to the market to purchase their weekly groceries. They appeared as little strokes of paint huddled together in narrow streets on a large mural of an island. They slithered past each other with haste, hoping to get to the market before the crowd arrived.

On their sides, wooden houses populated each side of winded pathways that criss-crossed each other repeatedly as if entangled. As the wind swept past the thatched roofs of these houses, the reeds fluttered playfully, attempting to entice the friendly gust into a game of cat-and-mouse.

Beneath the bustling surface of the island, rock and earth jutted out like the inverted mountains they were. Groundwater gushed between them in little streams that networked through. The streams then joined up into a subterranean river that ended abruptly on the Southern side of the island and fell to the depths below as a lustrous and silky waterfall. It took her breath away.

The young lady stared at the waterfall for a few moments, lost in her thoughts. Despite having seen it often since birth, the dance of water never ceased to fascinate her. Finally, she shook away from the grasp of awe and settled her eyes on the structure right in front of her. It was about a mile or so away. Immediately, she felt a weight on her shoulders. A flock of crows flew towards her from there, suppressing their caws.

The Aetherwing Citadel’s grandeur demanded reverence. It stood with pride. It was also imposing and it radiated power. A lot of power. Just the sight of it made a whiff of oppression flitter through the air. It looked back at her arrogantly, knowing all too well the effect it had on people.

She doesn’t flinch.

The Aetherwing family had dumped their riches on an engineering marvel. One that played the role of a de facto seat of power whenever it pleased. The first of its kind and the largest one at that, the Aetherwing Citadel was an artificial island. However, unlike the rest of the islands in The Archipelago, it could carry itself through the air. It was subject to the whims of the Aetherwing family and they made it go wherever they wanted. Yet, for the past few days, it had remained anchored to its current position. Whatever was the cause?

The young lady noticed the hairs on her arm were beginning to stand straight. Must be due to the cold gale that had fluttered through.

The richest family in The Archipelago had constructed their home on top of the island. A staggeringly large citadel took up most of the ample space available on the island. Of course, the Aetherwings would not go for anything lesser. Easily the tallest and widest structure in all of The Archipelago, the citadel had five towers that peaked up towards the heavens. The four towers faced each direction of the winds. The central tower rose higher than the rest and finally stopped a kilometre from the base, satisfied at having reached the height it desired.

The lady noticed a dot near the cast-iron fence of the citadel staring back at her. Could be an Aetherwing. She winced. Most probably a maid. A maid like her mother was. She soothed the emotions broiling through her veins. Now was not the time to revisit old memories. Old haunts. Nightmares.

She remembered the day her father broke the news. His tear-strewn face etched deep into her mind. She shook her head, as if to clear her head. She could still see her father’s face. She recalled his words, almost verbatim. Her mother had accompanied the youngest Aetherwing, her charge, to the citadel when it was under construction. A small mishap on an engineer’s part had caused the island to rock violently. The Aetherwing, Harry was his name, had almost fallen off through an open window in one of the towers. Yet, his life had been saved…at the cost of another’s. Her mother’s.

The young lady tore her eyes off it almost forcefully. Her eyes then veered off to the other islands that floated contently in the sky. These islands were what made up The Archipelago. Each of them a different size, they grazed on the clouds calmly during the day and envied the stars during the night. It evoked a sense of peace and inner calm. The lady felt a gentle flow of gratitude fill her heart. She was glad she lived in such a beautiful place.

The breeze returned and this time it had a wet tinge; it distracted her momentarily from the islands. As if in a play of instinct, she stole a glance at the expanse below The Archipelago. The Lighthouse stood there unyieldingly. Eventually, she turned back.

The cottage greeted her again. The quaint quality of her home caused a smile to touch her lips. She wondered why she hadn’t chosen the door to get out of the house. She didn’t know, she realised. Perhaps because she found it to be more intuitive, she surmised. No one else would agree, of course, she thought.

She began trotting over to the window, dragging her feet on the grass as if to remove the dirt pressed onto the sole. It was all for the namesake. What could the grass do? It was no mat. The lady pushed herself through the window. She felt the laziness drain out of her, trickle by trickle, and vigour took its place. Yet, she straightened her back, lifted her arms up in the air and stretched her body. Then, she yawned. The last of the laziness had finally seeped out. The yawn was merely its dying wail.

The lady then went about her usual morning tasks; brushing her teeth, showering and the like. Once refreshed, she made quick work of her cereal before she walked out of the cottage and moved over to a small mill. Dairy Storage. There was a small note on the door.

Gone to the market.