Chapter 30: He Who Lives Above the Clouds
We landed . I took my first step my observations were right. These clouds were not soft or comforting. They were wet and hard, matching their gray and unwelcoming color.
From the skies, we had noticed scattered through the land—five transparent, orb-like bubbles that held the sky island afloat. Magic, probably. That was my best guess, anyway.
"So, do we split up, or how do you wanna do this, Maddox?" El asked. She looked around at the cold, lifeless scenery.
"I don't feel like splitting up is the best move here, honestly."
"Yes, that's a wise observation, boy," a cold, deep voice shot through the land.
Our heads snapped in all directions, searching for its source—but it came from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"I've always found it odd, in tales I've seen, where a fortress as grand as my own crumbles under the efforts of a sneaky, stealthy mosquito-hero," the voice continued. "You'd think, with all that evidence, the evil overlord would invest in impeccable defense. Like I have."
It was good. His voice felt so incredibly close—each word he uttered chilled my skin like ice on bone.
"Now, enough games. It seems a couple of mosquitoes have annoyingly entered my domain."
"Split," he ordered.
In an instant, I found myself somewhere else on the island—alone. Domain magic? Teleportation? A trap? Maybe worse. I looked around, panicked.
"Mel? El?" I shouted. No response.
They were gone.
I looked around again. I was in a crater. A massive, jagged wall surrounded me. A sinking, heavy fog rolled in—thick as smoke and carrying the stench of burnt meat. I couldn't see my own feet through the dense black mist that blanketed the ground, but at least it was solid enough to stand on. I could move.
"Now ask yourself, young ones—what is one to do in a predicament such as this, when annoying little bugs infest his precious domain?" the voice came again, echoing through the crater.
"I'll give you a hint: you call in an exterminator."
Suddenly, from all directions, a deadly screeching howl tore through the air. Like glass scraping glass. The pitch was so high I thought my eardrums might rupture.
They came—trampling over each other as they sprinted toward me. The faster ones crushed the slower, clawing and stomping over heads, torsos, and legs. A mindless horde of angry, grotesque lefts. They hurled themselves over the crater's edge, landing hard, limbs cracking as they hit the ground.
They came from everywhere. I didn't know where to look. Drool poured from their mouths, exposing jagged, plaque-infested teeth. It was terrifying. How could something so large move so fast?
Still, I took a strange comfort in the fact that they were no larger than elephants. That was good. If they'd been the size of the giants I'd seen before, this would've been a death sentence.
There was no running.
The Lefts clawed and ran—but not at me. They ran around the edge of the crater, spinning, stacking on top of each other, forming a dome-like roof. A roof made of Lefts.
I looked up as the last sliver of light broke through a small hole... and then the crater went completely dark.
From the shadows I heard them—Mel and El.
"Hey! Maddox, there you are! Thank God!" they shouted almost in sync.
Somewhere else on the Sky Islands
Melody—
Melody woke up in a throne room. At its center stood a throne unmoving, silent. The throne itself was not what disturbed her.
It was the room.
There were no walls, yet it had a ceiling—a high, majestic one—filled with everything you'd expect from a royal court: a massive diamond chandelier, intricate gold tiles, radiant, engraved jewels. Lavish and Ornate.
But it sat in the middle of the Emberwake Wastes.
Right in the heart of one of the ash lakes. Geysers exploded, releasing red ash that didn't settle—it floated, lingered in the air like ghosts.
Mel looked again at the throne.
This time, it wasn't empty.
Now, it held a man—bound to the seat by chains that cut into his skin from endless, restless movement. He slumped, breathing, alive but not free.
Mel knew that man.
Magnus.
Somewhere further on the Sky Island
Eliza—
Eliza looked around. She too, like the others, had ended up somewhere else on the floating landmass.
A place where the winds howled with violence, snapping bark from the few stubborn trees that dared to remain standing. A barren, dark wasteland, where Lefts aimlessly danced and marched like mad puppets.
She stood on a hilltop, isolated from the chaos.
At the center of the hill stood one large cherry blossom tree. Once pink and radiant—now colorless. Teh effects of this land . The petals were sharp and spiky, the clustered leaves twisted like claws. It looked like something pulled straight from an old black-and-white TV—grainy, stale, lifeless.
And the sweet scent it once carried?
Gone.
Replaced by the stench of charred flesh.
She turned—and saw the hill stood within the heart of the Witherwinds, enclosed in a rectangular barrier that kept the brutal winds out. Her red bandana, tied tightly on her right arm, was now gray, as if drained of its essence. She stood in a colorless world—on a colorless hill—beneath a ghostly cherry blossom tree.
Then she turned again to the tree.
And there—kneeling beneath it, a bandana covering her eyes, wet with tears....was Ola.
In that moment, all rational thought left Eliza. She plunged forward, arms outstretched, running toward her sister.
In a black throne somewhere unknown to us, Good sat. His head rested lazily on one hand. Shadows swallowed the room, masking his indescribable features. His other hand tapped against the armrest.
A grin formed.
White teeth—the only thing visible in the dark—flashed in amusement.
And there he sat, laughing quietly to himself.
He Who Lives Above the Clouds.
"Let the trials begin," he whispered.