Masters of the Sky

Prologue - The Girl Who Wished To Fly

The sun was barely visible through the thick veil of smog in the city's industrial area. Celia pressed her breathing mask tightly to her face to ensure she didn't inhale contaminated air. The apparatus should be tightly fitted to her face and provide a constant flow of clear air, but it was far too big for her ten-year-old face. Those sorts of gadgets were expensive, and her family couldn't afford to buy her a brand new one fitted to her size, so she had to do with a hand-down from her father. But the girl was so used to it that she barely noticed it was anything out of the ordinary.

Her small feet made quick work of treading the metal platforms. It was the least pleasant part of her route, and she wanted to pass it as soon as possible, as did everyone else passing through here. No one stayed here for pleasure. People were barely visible under their breathing masks and hats, putting collars of their trench and leather coats up to cover as much skin as possible, protecting themselves from the toxic fumes. From Celia's eye level, they all looked like some otherworldly creatures from the stories she loved.

The girl turned sharply into an empty alley with a dead end. She glanced at the brownish water sloshing through the metal grate and wetting her leather shoes. The sea level had risen again. They would have to move up all the factories again in a few months. She shook her head, making her brown braids jump on her narrow shoulders. Sometimes, she wondered what the world looked like before the Great Floods. All she knew was life dependent on the unforgiving rage of the sea.

Celia reached the end of the alley and looked up at a plant's brick wall where the half-corroded maintenance ladder hung just a few feet over her head. She let her breathing apparatus dangle freely on her neck and stretched her wrists. She ignored the sharp smell of sulphur and crawled up the pile of rotten wooden boxes. By some miracle, they held her weight. Not wanting to try her luck, she jumped and grabbed the lowest rail of the ladder, which shuddered under the sudden impact but held.

With a laugh, the girl swiftly made her way up to the plant's roof.  The air here was a little cleaner than down on the surface passageways. She took a big breath from her apparatus to be safe and strolled to the other side of the roof. What she was doing was dangerous and certainly illegal. If her parents knew she still used this shortcut, they would probably ground her for life. But Celia could never resist the exciting thrill of adventure.

Celia grinned when she spotted the metal line still tightly fixed on the pole going down to the docks over the roofs of lower buildings and surface routes. She could go to the port using common ways, like a good girl, but where would be fun in that? Iron Shore had plenty of shortcuts; if one was not scared of a bit of risk, one could traverse the vast metropolis in half a day.

The girl double-checked if her parcel was still secured tightly to her wide leather belt, and from one of many pockets, she fished out a narrow chain with a hard piece of leather in the middle. Without thinking, she stepped to the roof ledge, throwing her chain over the metal line. She wrapped one side securely over her right wrist and grabbed the other end tightly.

"Hey, kid! What do you think you're doing?!" a gruff voice shouted. "Get down from there before you fall to your death!"

"Sorry, no time!" Celia yelled, and without looking back, she jumped.

Sliding down the metal rope was the closest she ever got to flying. The wind rushed at her face, making her eyes tear up, and her braids lash behind her. Her feet dangled hundreds of feet from regular people, making them all small and insignificant. This ride made Celia feel alive like nothing else in the world.

But as with all beautiful things, the slide lasted only a few moments. The girl expertly chose a moment when she let go of one end of the chain, landed on a wooden pier, and rolled to lose momentum, stopping in a crouch. No one paid attention to her except for a few disgruntled seagulls fleeing in panic.