The Dream Beyond The Clouds

Ironically, the first complete short story I'm posting here is actually the last one I've worked on at this time. Well technically it isn't complete; I plan to make this story last for at least three chapters total, and hopefully not go beyond the word count for future publication oppurtunities.

It's still a work in progress, and one that I'll continue tinkering, but in the meantime I hope you enjoy it:




The Dream beyond the Clouds


High above the clouds stood the sky kingdom of Hadran, basking the earth below like a fresh morning sun. Within the floating buildings of aged stone and forged statues lived the Calmeel, a race of magical beings who practiced the art of peace and nature as the truest form of magic.


Down below the earth, nestled in the dark coves of fragmented graninte lived the Nirock, cave dwellers that have been denied the warmth of the sun, with the faint glimmer of the full moon their only source of light in their eternal darkness. The Nirock have been isolated and shunned by the sky farring Calmeel, due to their practice of dark magic and of their frightful appearance.


And so the two nations quarreled; a war of freedom and rights that has lasted for generations. The casualties have been innumerable from both kingdoms, and the years of bloodshed have caught up to the two magical races. Extinction was looming forth, but whether it would come for the Calmeel or Nirock, neither side could say for certain.


Within the cloud-covered walls of Hadran, the young Calmeel children lived in peaceful ignorance of the plight befalling their homeland. Outside the eastern building, the children dutifully but happily spent their days studying the ancient magic of their people, taught by the last remaining Sages of Hadran. Sage Hozi, the kingdom’s greatest living sorcerer worked as the children’s teacher. In truth Hozi was but a man still carrying the last bits of his youth, still unlearned in the lesson of magic and the magic of life, but the toll of the war has bestowed him with the burden of being Hadran’s greatest warrior.


“Master Hozi…” a young student called anxiously. “How much longer must we practice these childish spells? What good will these conjuration tricks do against our enemies?”


Hozi smiled patiently at his young pupil, ever restless in his path to magician and manhood.


“My young apprentice…” he began. “One cannot plant a seed in the ground and expect a tree to sprout within a day. It requires years of nurturing. So too must you learn to nurture the mana that swirls around your body, so that you may one day stand as tall as the greatest redwoods.”


“But you are nurturing me too slowly!” The boy continued in his defiance. “My brother is two years younger than I, and he has already learned the beginning spells of destruction!”


Hozi’s smile pulled back a bit upon that remark. Many of the Calmeel teachers preffered to keep their teaching methods seperate from one another, but news of their tutelage tend to reach each other through such murmurings among the students.


“I do not want to learn how to talk to stupid birds; I want to learn how to fight like my father!”


“It’s that sort of talk that keeps you from growing, my little sprout.” Hozi and his pupil turned around to face the new but familiar voice. A young girl entered the outdoor training area with the grace and presence of a woman beyond her years. Dressed in a flowing white garment, with hair as bright and yellow as the sacred sun, and a warm smile to match its radiance, the young girl waved her bare hand to prevent the young boy from bowing.


“Sweet child…” the girl spoke in a manner as patient as Hozi’s, “It takes more than mere nuturing to help a seed grow. There is another step beyond water and sunlight that the seed requires. Do you know what that is?”


“No...your majesty.” The young boy nervously shook his head.


“Love.” The maiden smiled wider, while her short golden hair shimmered as brightly as the embroided crest from her robes. “Love for the warmth of the glowing sun, for the cool taste of the flowing water, and for the gentle earth that sustains the seed’s life, like a mother that tenderly carries her child inside herself. Without these things, the seed could never grow into a tree, just as the child could never grow into a man.”


Gracefully, the young girl lifted her hands into the air, her slender arms sliding through the silky sleeves of her robe. “So too must you learn to carry the infancy of your magic, to appreciate and nurture your skills, so that they may one day grow as wondrous and pure as your very spirit.” And with a mere flicker of her blue eyes, a flock of white doves flew behind her as quickly and gracefully as a field of trees rocking in the wind. The young boy watched in awe, captivated by a conjuration so simple, yet so beautiful.


Hozi’s smile returned, thankful that Hadran’s prized student had time to teach her successors the true ways of magic. He commanded the boy to continue in his studies while he followed the young girl to the edge of the hall, overlooking the entire kingdom as the sunlight poured through the stone walls and grand windows.


“Thank you, princess.” Hozi spoke.


“Please, Hozi, call me Kinah”. She responded. “You know I like that title no more than you like being referred to as Sage Hozi.”


“Of course, your majesty. However, do remember that your title was bestowed to you on birth, while mine was merely passed along.” Kinah could sense the bitterness in her friend’s words, still discontent of his promotion. However, she also knew that there was something more than titles that bothered him.


“The children beyond my class are being taught destructive spells at a faster pace than I would care for." The young teacher leaned forward at the moss covered railings, looking onward at the sea of clouds. "The other teachers are trying to raise new defenders of Hadran, but they are only hastening the deaths of these poor younglings. They cannot sharpen frail twigs into tempered steel. Whether by training or combat, they will only break.”


“Do not think such horrible things, Hozi. You are far too young to worry so. At this rate you will grow more wrinkles than our old teacher.” Kinah placed a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder, reminding the burdened mage of a time when they were once equals under the same classroom.


“This war is reaching its end, princess.” Hozi continued, unmoved. “We do not know how many of the Nirock remain, but the youth of their recent attackers prove that their numbers are as dwindling as our own. At this rate, there are but three outcomes: They wipe us out, we annihilate them, or we both face oblivion.”


“This war will end, Hozi, but with a fourth option.” Kinah replied, unshaken. “The Nirock are as tired of this war as we are. I am certain that even now, we can still negotiate a truce.”


“I am thankful for your optimism, Kinah, but I am not comforted by it." Hozi adjusted his prized spectacles with a single finger, a common tell whenever frustration seeped within him. "The Nirock are cruel, monstrous creatures. No amount of sunlight will mend their twisted roots, so they instead seek to tear down our society, down to the last sky tree. Your talks of peace are often overlooked as royal sanguinity; but were they spoken by a common woman, she would be punished for her heresy. I have no right to command you, princess, but I beg of you as a dear friend to never speak of such nonsense again.”


“Very well, Hozi.” Kinah spoke, defeated, but not insulted. “If you will excuse me, I shall be taking my morning stroll. Why not come with me, to give your wings a good stretch?”


The Sage laughed, his misery all but vanished. “I’m afraid my wings are far too old to follow, but yours are still as fresh and flighty as a newborn chick. I’ll remain content at watching you fly away.”


Kinah gave another smile, one that served as a farewell to her friend. Turning around, the Hadran princess lightly stepped atop the edge of the balcony, a mere step from falling to the earth below. She could feel the aged vines dance around her bare toes, the same roots that surrounded her city for as long as the stone was were built.



With a deep breath, she tugged lightly at the back of her flowing white robes, until at last her white wings arose from the openings of her dress, stretching above and beyond her like living birds awakening to the gentle air. With a small leap, she surrendered herself to the cool wind as it cradled her wings into a graceful flight. Bidding a curtly wave to her Hadran brethren as they engaged in their own morning flights, Kinah flexed her milky white wings inward, and descended into the earth below.


The winged princess shut her eyes as fierce gusts of wind plowed through her face, small tears prying free with gratitude over the wondrous touch from her mother earth. After a time, Kinah opened her eyes to gaze across the wide world below her, endless waves of green grass and brown mountains stretched beyond her sight. She would gladly spend hours soaring from this height, ignorant to the ravages and toils their war have marked below; but today she had a particular destination that she needed to reach, and with one final glance she pulled back her wings again, to descend even lower to the small dark patch of earth below her.


From such a high distance, the small mound of charred soil and black trees appeared as nothing more than a small blemish in the face of the land; but to the Calmeel, it served as a grim warning: the Wastelands, a graveyard of forgotten souls bound forever beneath infertile soil. Neither the Calmeel nor the Nirock dared to step foot into the Wastelands, as tales of malicious wraiths and binding curses have existed as long as both kingdoms have prospered. To Kinah, however, the shared superstition served as the ideal location for her secret endeavors.


Once the winged princess’s bare feet touched the charred soil, her body shivered, despite the lukewarm temperature of the area. Even though she has trotted on this unholy ground several times in her life, a cold chill would always greet her every time, from the tips of her toes to the top of her wings. Even the morning sun was obscured from the dust covered wind that blew around. Regardless of her views on the war and her enemies, the Calmeel child held no doubts that the Wastelands were an unspeakibly evil place.


“You are far from your cage, little bird.”


The whispering voice echoed throughout the dead land as quickly and coldly as the chill Kinah felt upon her arrival. Turning around, she could see a moving body materializing from the shadows and into in the faint light. A young man stood, covered head to toe with the ragged clothing and cobbled dust of a hundred year old corpse. Beneath long flowing rags of unwashed robes, his young features remained concealed behind a veil of pale flesh. His black hair split apart atop his head like a rotten cabbage, and his eyes shined as coldly and brightly as pale moonlight. The man shambled toward Kinah, his silver eyes focused and unblinking, but the Calmeel girl did not step back, but forward. Her face was not filled with fear, but joy.


“Siel.” Her voice was soft, but without reproach. Kinah increased her steps and wrapped her bare arms around the dark robed man, burying her head into his unwashed robes. She did not repel the grime and cobwebs, but reveled in them like a warm blanket. The young Nirock did not return the Calmeel’s affection, but he welcomed it nonetheless.


“I thought we agreed to limit our meetings to avoid suspicion.” Siel spoke in a reserved, devoid tone, yet Kinah could decipher the concern hidden within his voice.


“I know, my love…” Kinah replied, her affection unrestrained. “But I could not bear to be apart from you even longer. For every slain Nirock reported by my Lord father’s soldiers, I always worry about you. I can never rest peacefully until I can see you here, alive and well.”
Siel stood silent, not caring to protest any further. He brushed his pale fingers lightly across his lover's white wings. “As radiant as the moon itself, but you do me too much honor. If your father knew that his only daughter's wings were defiled by a Nirock's touch....”


“Do not say that!" Kinah’s voice rose. “Your touch brings more comfort to my wings than the morning breeze. Please Siel, show me yours. You should know by now not to feel ashamed.”


The Nirock youth stepped backwards, staring silently into the Calmeel’s eyes. Any doubts he felt vanished as quickly as the Wasteland’s wind, and with a mere tug of his robe, a pair of black wings protruded from his back like a waking bat. Where Kinah’s full-feathered wings bloomed brightly in the dark of the Wasteland, Siel’s thin grey appendages easily blended into the darkness, strands of black feathers dragged across the air like dead leaves.



“They are beautiful Siel, I have told you several times now.” Kinah spoke with absolute truth in her voice.


“They are nothing but withered weeds, princess.” Siel spoke, unconvinced of the lie. “Even as a prince, my wings are no more special than any of my kind. Despite what you claim to believe, it is our horrid appearance that is the cause of your people’s hatred toward us.”


“Very well, Siel. It is true that I knew you long before our wings had grown, but we still became the dearest of friends when we were small. Finding out about your heritage did not change my feelings toward you. That is why I believe our kingdoms can coexist. If I could look beyond your black wings to see the gentle soul concealed within, then I know my brethren can do the same.”
Kinah could see Siel’s face unchanged by her words, as usual. But she did not want to waste their short time any further. “Come, Siel, let us be on our way.”


The Nirock prince and the Calmeel princess took hand in hand, and together they flew high into the air, beyond the Wasteland, and higher still beyond the clouds, and even higher beyond the sky city of Hadran, using the sun's blinding rays as concealment from the flying citizens. With the combined strength of their wings, both ugly and beautiful, the two winged lovers flew higher than any one of their clansmen had ever dared. After minutes into hours of upward flight, they stopped at last at their destination; a solitary mountaintop that overlooked the sea of clouds that formed the top of their world.


The two heirs of the warring kingdoms stood silently atop their secret summit, their hands locked together and their eyes trailing across the vast white plains. Far across, a handful of mountains both smaller and larger than their own protruded beyond the clouds, standing as tall and aged as the oldest trees, for Kinah and Siel were the first two living beings in thousands of years to witness these ancient monuments. For only they knew that no Calmeel or Nirock could ever make the journey above alone; it would take the united strength of both their wings to reach beyond the clouds, beyond their dreams. The only dream they shared now was the hope that one day both of their kingdoms would unite together, as they have, and rise higher than they ever could alone.