Ephraim slept sprawled across his makeshift raft, limbs dangling over the edges as the vessel drifted lazily through the cloud sea. Ahead of him, Cloud Falls came into view. The waterfall was massive, three tiers stacked on top of each other like a giant's staircase. Water crashed down from tier to tier, throwing up clouds of mist that caught the morning sunlight and turned it into floating prisms of color. The sound was deafening even from a distance, a deep rumbling that vibrated through the air itself.
The raft bumped against the wooden dock with a hollow thunk. Ephraim's eyes fluttered open, squinting against the brightness. He groaned, rolling onto his side before pushing himself up with all the enthusiasm of someone being dragged from the best dream of their life. He grabbed his nap sack (the one with the Knife of Dedra inside) and secured it to his back. With a grunt, he pulled himself up onto the dock, his black and white Converse hitting the weathered wood with a soft thud.
He rubbed his eyes, the daylight blinding him for a moment. But once his vision adjusted, his hands fell to his sides and his jaw went slack.
Cloud Falls was beautiful.
The town sat in a wide valley, surrounded on all sides by cliff walls that rose up like the sides of a bowl. Buildings were carved directly into these cliffs, stacked on top of each other in layers that climbed hundreds of feet up the stone. Some were old, made of gray rock that had been there for centuries. Others were newer, built from wood and glass that gleamed in the sunlight. A few looked futuristic, all steel and crystal that reflected light in strange ways.
But what made the city truly unique were the waterfalls. The main falls split into dozens of smaller streams that flowed down through the city itself. Water rushed between buildings, under bridges, over the edges of platforms. Massive wooden wheels turned in the current, creaking and groaning as they powered whatever machinery the city needed. The air was filled with the constant sound of rushing water and a fine mist that made everything feel cool and fresh.
Bridges crisscrossed the space above him at every height imaginable. Some were simple wooden walkways connecting two buildings. Others were elaborate structures of rope and metal that swayed gently in the breeze. People and creatures of all kinds moved across them, going about their business.
At street level, market stalls lined every available space. Their canvas awnings created a patchwork of colors: reds, blues, yellows, greens, all faded by sun and weather. The smell was overwhelming in the best way. Roasted meat, fresh bread, spices he couldn't name, all mixing with the clean scent of the water.
Ephraim pulled out his holo pad. The blue screen flickered to life, showing a map of the city with a red dot pulsing in the center. The Messenger Station. The distance reading made him groan out loud. 200 miles.
"Welp time to get walking." His voice was cheerful but his shoulders sagged. He pocketed the device and started toward the city.
The first district he entered was cramped. Buildings squeezed together so tightly that their upper floors nearly touched, creating narrow streets that were almost like tunnels. The buildings here were painted in warm colors: oranges, yellows, terra cotta reds. Shop fronts opened directly onto the street, their goods spilling out onto tables and racks. He saw essence crystals that glowed with inner light next to mundane cooking pots. Weapons hung on one wall while clothing from a dozen different cultures draped over another.
The people were just as varied. A woman with moth wings sprouting from her back haggled with a vendor over a bag of what looked like dried herbs. A man whose entire body seemed to be made of living stone examined jewelry through crystalline fingers. A fox person with six tails carried a stack of books taller than itself. Cat folk and bird folk and centaurs and things Ephraim had never seen before all mixed together, shouting and laughing and going about their business.
The streets twisted back on themselves constantly, branching off in unexpected directions. If it weren't for the falls visible between buildings (always there, always roaring), Ephraim would've been completely lost.
After an hour of walking, the cramped streets opened up into something different. Here the buildings had space to breathe. Wide avenues replaced narrow alleys, and the architecture itself became art. One entire wall was covered in a mural of a battle scene, and as Ephraim walked past, he could swear the painted soldiers moved. Not obviously, but if he looked away and then back, they'd be in slightly different positions.
A sculpture in the middle of a plaza showed a woman with her arms raised to the sky. It was made of some kind of metal that changed color as the sun hit it from different angles: copper, then gold, then something close to silver. As he watched, the statue's pose shifted slightly, her arms lowering just a fraction.
The sounds here were different too. Metal hammered on metal from open fronted forges. Saws bit through wood in workshops with no walls. The smell of fresh paint mixed with sawdust and something floral he couldn't identify. Street performers worked every corner. A wolf person juggled balls of actual flame that didn't seem to burn them. A deer folk played violin, the music hauntingly beautiful despite their hooved hands. A group of merfolk (suspended in floating spheres of water) moved in perfect synchronization, and the light around them seemed to bend and ripple.
Three hours later, the city changed again. The buildings here stood apart from each other, separated by carefully manicured gardens and lawns. Each structure was a statement: all glass and steel, or ancient stone covered in flowering vines, or something that looked like it had been grown rather than built. The gardens were full of plants Ephraim had never imagined. Trees with silver bark and leaves that chimed like bells when the wind touched them. Flowers that glowed soft blue and purple even in broad daylight. Vines that climbed walls in perfect spirals.
The people here moved differently too. Slower, more relaxed, wearing clothes that looked expensive and impractical. Snake people with iridescent scales. Insectoid beings with multiple arms. Humanoids made entirely of glass or crystal. The streets were cleaner, the air smelled like flowers, and everything felt lighter somehow.
By the time five hours had passed, Ephraim's feet were killing him. His back was soaked with sweat. His initial amazement at Cloud Falls had been replaced by the simple misery of walking 200 miles through a city he didn't know.
He spotted an inn tucked into a corner where three streets met. The building was old, wooden beams dark with age, windows that sat slightly crooked in their frames. A sign hung over the door: a faded painting of a bed and a mug. But the place was packed, which meant the food had to be decent.
He pushed through the creaking door and was immediately hit by a wall of noise and heat. The inside was dimly lit by lamps that cast everything in warm orange light. The crowd was unlike anything he'd seen. Orcs with tusks that could impale a man. Dragon people with scales that shimmered when they moved. Robots whose eyes glowed as they tracked movement. Bear folk and rabbit folk and things he couldn't begin to name. The smell of cooking meat and bread made his stomach growl loud enough that someone glanced over.
But one person caught his attention immediately.
She stood near the bar. Just slightly shorter than him, maybe five foot eight. Tan skin with black hair that fell past her shoulders, somehow both curly and straight at the same time. Her eyes were purple. Not light purple or violet, but deep, actual purple, like gemstones. Her lips curved up naturally at the corners like a cat's smile, and they were full and perfectly coated with gloss that caught the light.
The uniform she wore looked expensive. A deep royal purple suit jacket, double breasted with red and gold trim that didn't look tacky somehow. It fit her perfectly, tailored exactly to her body. Her pants matched, crisp and professional. On her shoulder and chest was a crest: a golden bull with a broken sword between its horns.
Ephraim didn't think. He grabbed onto the magnetic fields around him (he could feel them like invisible threads in the air) and pulled. His body shot forward in an arc across the room, spinning once for flair, aiming to land right in the center where everyone could see.
Every head turned. Every head except hers.
He landed in what he thought was a perfect superhero pose, using magnetism to slow his impact. "Dammit she didn't look," he muttered.
A gruff voice nearby asked, "Why'd you do all that?" It came from an orc with a scar cutting across his face.
Ephraim spun toward him. "Uhhh cause I'm that nigga?!" He pointed both thumbs at himself.
The orc scoffed. "You look fuckin dumb pal"
Heat flared in Ephraim's chest. "We can take this the fuck outside I will. Beat. Your. Asssss" He jabbed his finger toward the orc's face with each word, stepping closer.
The orc pointed at Ephraim with his thumb, announcing to everyone: "Get a load of Tommy tough knuckles over here guys"
Across the room, a stocky human with massive arms jumped to his feet. "Yea?!"
The orc immediately backed down. "Na...no no not you Tommy I mean forget about it"
Tommy's face went red. "Well ya fuckin called me don't get prissy"
While they argued, Ephraim caught movement from the corner of his eye. The woman in purple was walking toward the door, completely unbothered by the chaos. His stomach dropped, but he'd started this. Walking away now would make him look weak.
Tommy turned back, his expression ugly. "Look look Tish Rah let's just kick this kids ass for makin us argue I hate this. This isn't us!"
Ephraim laughed. "Dude your name is Tish Rah what a wack ass na—"
The fist hit him before he finished. Tish Rah's arm transformed instantly. Scales burst across the skin, the limb swelling to three times its normal size, fingers becoming claws. The punch caught Ephraim square in the chest.
He flew backwards through the wall. Not through the door. Through the actual wooden wall. Splinters exploded everywhere. His nap sack tore free from his back and sailed through the air, landing in a hay cart twenty feet away.
Ephraim didn't see where it went. He was too busy grabbing at magnetic fields, trying to slow himself down, twisting his body so he'd land on his feet. He hit the cobblestone street hard, knees bent, arms out for balance.
Tish Rah walked through the hole he'd made, his arm shrinking back to normal. Tommy followed behind, cracking his knuckles. Tish Rah's voice was almost gentle: "come on kid le—"
He never finished. Ephraim moved (so fast it looked like teleportation) and drove his fist between the orc's eyes. Tish Rah's head snapped back and he dropped like someone cut his strings.
Tommy looked at his unconscious friend, then immediately dropped to his knees, hands up, groveling.
"YEAAA NIGGGAA YEAA YOU WAS TALKIN ALL THAT HOT SHIT TILL YOU GOT PUNCHED IN YO SHIT!" Ephraim's voice echoed off the buildings. He turned to Tommy with a mocking smile. "Nowww I must say Tommy if your really sorry then you might be so gracious to make lunch on you this time obviously as a I'm sorry to me"
Tommy nodded so hard his whole body shook. "Yea man yea you got it you got it"
Then Ephraim remembered. He spun around, looking frantically down the street. "OH NOOO!!" He looked down at unconscious Tish Rah. "Dammit I forgot that hot girl left fuckkk I should've just left and at least got her holo tag" He yelled at the body on the ground: "It's YOUR FAULT"
He kicked dirt at the unconscious orc, then stomped back through the broken wall, Tommy scrambling after him.
The murmuring started immediately. Ephraim caught pieces of conversations as he walked to the bar:
"That's a mudblood, right? Filthy half breed shouldn't even be allowed in here."
"Did you see that? One punched a Leonice messenger like it was nothing."
"Kid's got balls, I'll give him that much."
"Fucking dirty blood probably cheated. Used some essence trick."
"People like him shouldn't be walking around free. It's not natural."
"You think the Leonice family gonna let that slide? Their boy got embarrassed."
"Heard he's eligible for the tournament. Imagine. A mudblood as a Prophet. Gods forbid."
Ephraim ignored it all. He'd been hearing it his whole life. He slid onto a barstool and Tommy sat next to him, looking miserable.
The bartender approached. A grizzled man with a mechanical arm and an eye patch. His one good eye studied Ephraim with the wariness of someone who'd seen too many bar fights. "What'll it be?"
Tommy pulled out his wallet like it physically hurt. "He's ordering. On me."
Ephraim grinned. "4 of the chicken and rice with the hot chili glaze, 2 of the meatloaf surprise with extra surprise please, a slice of pizza for every possible topping combination and topping choice, a 30 piece hot honey combo with fries annnnddd a rum. Sorry sorry 2 rums"
The entire inn went silent. Every conversation stopped. Every eye turned toward him. Expressions ranged from shock to disgust to barely concealed hatred.
Tommy stared at his wallet like it had betrayed him.
The bartender's eyebrow climbed toward his hairline. "Ayyyeee you old enough for fries kid?"
"yeaaa yea man I'm 18 come on Tommy tell em"
Tommy nodded weakly. "yep man he's 18 I'm telling ya"
The bartender studied them both, then shrugged and headed to the kitchen. "Your funeral."
The moment he disappeared, Ephraim started patting his pockets frantically. His hands moved across his jacket, his jeans, his chest. "OHHH No- oh never mind I got it" He pulled out a pack of blunts and a lighter from his back pocket. "Whewww thought I fuckin lost this bad boy don't know what I'd do without it"
He pulled one out and lit it, taking a deep pull and exhaling slowly. The smoke curled up toward the ceiling. The smell (earthy, sharp, unmistakable) spread through the room.
Nobody said anything. Maybe out of fear. Maybe they didn't care. Maybe in a place like Cloud Falls where every species and culture mixed together, one kid smoking wasn't worth the trouble.
He finished the blunt without any objections, then the first half of his feast arrived. Four plates of chicken and rice glazed with something red and shiny. One massive slab of meatloaf that had things mixed into it he couldn't identify. Ten slices of pizza, each with different toppings. Fifteen wings that glistened with honey. A basket of fries. Two glasses of rum.
Ephraim dove in like he hadn't eaten in days. He cleared plates at a speed that made people stop their conversations to watch. Twenty minutes and everything was gone except the empty dishes.
But just as the second wave of food was about to arrive, it hit him. His eyes went wide. "MY FUCKIN BAG!!!"
He bolted out of the inn, looking around frantically. The spot where the fight happened, the street, the corners. Nothing. "FUCK FUCK THE DAGGER ANNND MY HOLOPAD WAS IN THERE!"
He ran through the streets, checking every corner, every cart, every shadow. Still nothing.
Then he stopped dead in his tracks. "WAIT. If they got my shit they'll have to redeem it at the messenger station so I just have to beat them there"
He grabbed onto nothing but air and pulled. His body shot forward through magnetic propulsion, swinging from invisible current to invisible current. Buildings blurred past him. People shouted as he flew overhead.
The messenger station was 200 miles away. It would take three days at a normal pace.
He'd just have to swing faster.
TO BE CONTINUED