The Elementalist: Sky City (Book One)

Chapter One: Fallen Kingdom

Higher than any tree, far, far above the clouds, just where the sky meets the sun, hovered one of the four marvels of the Elemental Kingdoms: Sky City. The world could seem so strange and enveloping from up high. The winds howled and smashed against the strong, marble walls of the floating city, rushing down the crowded streets, past the school, past the homes, all the way to the gold and white trim of the prestigious palace—a breathtaking jewel atop an already astonishing testament to the skies. The entire city swayed effortlessly on its solid, metallic platform, supporting the weight of the city through mysterious means quite unknown. How it managed to stay afloat, and how it was ever built remains ever a mystery to those who lived then and to those who live there still. Some could live their whole lives atop the city, only leaving to soar among the clouds themselves, with gifts given to them at birth that could allow such things. In a kingdom atop the world, with people gifted in flight, most days were a blessing.

Where our story begins would, unfortunately, not be one of those days.

The king of Sky City, a burly man with a thick beard and hardened exterior, awoke from his bedchamber to the sound of thunder crashing, not an unusual occurrence in a city among the clouds, but with enough foreboding and thickness in the air to instill an unsettled feeling, nonetheless. The Sky King's senses were inflamed as though awakening from a bad dream, the individual hairs on his arms screaming instinctively that something was amiss. The force of the wind and the power of the thunder echoed from outside his kingly room, out into the tall, grand hall of the palace. Storms of such ferocity were not all-too frequent in the city in those days, but fear of such things would be far from the minds of any native of the city walls, accustomed to such acts of nature's wrath. Still, despite this, the king can't shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong, if not from the storm raging outside, than merely from instinct alone.

"What is it?" the queen mumbled groggily as she too sat up from her side of the bed. As she wiped her eyes and let loose a long yawn—the noise of the storm outside attempting to lull her back to sleep like a child—she noticed the grim expression of uncertainty on her husband's face. "Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice beginning to fill with worry.

"I'm not sure..."

"What is it?"

"It's—I'm not sure..." the King drifted as he squinted his eyes, attempting to let his instincts that had awoken him guide him further.

By now the queen was on alert. Despite not knowing what reason, if any, that there was to worry, her motherly instinct kicked in. Quickly throwing her feet over the side of the bed, she rushed to the crib lying in the corner of the room. Looking down, she saw the baby prince sound asleep amid soft silk blankets, laced in the gold trim of royal cloth. In moments like these, just brief moments of love and light, the queen could look into those blue eyes, eyes filled with curiosity and the possibility to change the world with their gaze, and she could forget all around her--if only for a moment.

The baby prince, future king of the Sky Kingdom, looked just like his father, with bright, blonde hair of the sun, befitting anyone born of the Sky Kingdom, and bright blue eyes, the color of the sky on the clearest of days. To wake him felt like a terrible thing to do, but soon the same instinctive feeling the king was wrestling with creeps into the queen's mind as well. A shudder of a cool wind bit at her neck and she quickly scooped her son from the bed. Fussing, he began to cry, his wails drowned instantly by the sound of bellowing horns being blown just outside the great hall.

Not in the royal family's lifetime had the signal been called, but they knew what it meant, nonetheless. As quick as an eagle, the king ran to his royal armor displayed on the wall, dusted regularly in that time of peace, and began to throw it on with haste. He'd grown in muscles and his shoulders had broadened since the last time he wore it in his impressionable youth, but it still fit, if slightly snug.