The wind in Celestia always had its own way of whispering—carrying the scent of eternal dew and the melody of murmuring stars. But that morning, to Lira, the whispers felt more like a tempting song, calling her to leap higher, beyond the clouds that blanketed her kingdom. Her sapphire-blue eyes blinked playfully as she looked at her father, King Eldrin, who sat calmly on the throne of clouds. A gentle golden aura radiated from his sky-diamond-encrusted crown, illuminating the crystal hall where they stood.
"Father, Lira wants to play," she said, her voice as clear as the chime of crystal bells. Her translucent wings, resembling spider silk dusted with morning dew, quivered with impatience.
King Eldrin looked at his daughter, a soft smile curving his wise lips. "Playing again, my little star? Didn't you already explore the Light Forest until the third sun rose yesterday?" There was deep affection in his tone, mingled with an ever-present worry he could never quite hide. Lira was his only child—the most precious gem in all of Celestia.
"But today's different, Father! Elara and Fael want to fly above the Rainbow Clouds. They say we can see Earth more clearly from there!" Lira gave a small jump, barely touching the crystal floor. Her eyes sparkled with the boundless excitement of a child who knew no limits.
King Eldrin sighed softly. "Very well, go then. But remember—not too far. And return before twilight wraps its arms around Celestia. You know I dislike the dark arriving while you're still out there." His voice was firm, but laced with concern. "The world below… it's not a kind place for fairies like you, Lira."
Lira laughed lightly, brushing off her father's worries like a breeze. "Yes, Father! I promise I won't be naughty!" She bowed respectfully, then with a graceful flap of her wings, soared out of the hall—leaving King Eldrin staring after her, eyes shadowed with worry.
Outside, clouds drifted into grand corridors. The crisp, cool air kissed her pale, porcelain-like skin. Elara and Fael were already waiting, floating between cotton-white puffs. Elara with her flowing blonde hair, and Fael with his ever-teasing green eyes.
"Took you long enough, Lira! King Eldrin must've given you another lecture about how dangerous Earth is," Elara teased with a tinkling laugh.
Lira pouted. "He always does that. But whatever, let's fly!"
The three of them shot into the sky, piercing the clouds, racing toward the highest point of the Rainbow Clouds. From up there, Earth stretched vast and wide beneath them. Bustling cities looked like clusters of tiny dots, rivers like silver ribbons, and forests like giant green carpets. They laughed, played, and chased one another through the wind. Lira felt free—as if the entire universe were her playground.
"Look! A giant bird!" Fael suddenly shouted, pointing below.
Lira and Elara followed his gaze. Indeed, a large bird—unlike anything Lira had seen in Celestia—was gliding far below. It had dark brown feathers and an enormous wingspan. Intrigued, Lira dove lower to get a closer look. She forgot her father's warnings, forgot the dangers of the Earth, forgot every limit she had ever been taught. Curiosity burned bright in her.
"Lira, not too close!" Elara called, but her voice was swallowed by the wind.
Lira flew closer… and closer, until the bird's silhouette loomed large before her. Suddenly, it swooped upward in surprise. Lira gasped. She tried to dodge, to veer away, but it was too late.
Crash!
The collision was brutal. Lira felt the crack of tiny bones in her wing, pain shooting through her body like fire. She screamed—not from pain, but from shock and terror. A violent thrust sent her spinning. Her wings, torn and fragile, could no longer hold her aloft. She fell, plummeting helplessly through the layers of clouds below. Elara and Fael screamed her name, but their voices faded, swallowed by the rushing wind.
Lira spiraled, her vision blurring. Celestia—the home that once felt so near—was now nothing but a speck of light growing distant above. Earth rose beneath her, vast and terrifying. Panic strangled her. This was no longer a game. This was a fall—real and irreversible.
---
Down below, in a shabby little hut surrounded by rows of vegetables, Arka crouched low, planting tomato seeds. The midday sun scorched his tanned skin, but he didn't care. The earth was his companion, and these vegetables were his lifeline. Arka was not a wealthy man. He wore a worn-out shirt and faded trousers. But his frame was strong, built from years of labor. His dark hair was tousled, and his face—though sun-worn—held a natural handsomeness with sharp cheekbones and a firm jaw. A face molded by hardship, yet quietly noble.
He was pressing soil around a seedling when something crashed loudly at the edge of his garden.
Thud!
Startled, Arka dropped his hoe and spun around. There, lying among the rows of young cabbages, was a glowing, delicate figure.
Arka blinked, unsure if he was hallucinating. It looked like… a tiny girl. But with fragile, torn wings on her back. Her skin was pale, her eyes shut, and a thin streak of blood marred her forehead. An odd aura clung to her, changing the air around her.
"Oh my God," Arka murmured, rising quickly. This wasn't a dream. It was real. He had never seen a being like this in his life. Cautiously, he approached. The girl lay there, small and frail, with despair etched into her delicate face.
He knelt beside her. She was breathing—barely. She was clearly injured. Without thinking further, Arka gently scooped her up. She was light as a feather, almost weightless. Moving quickly, he carried her inside his modest home.
The hut had just one room—a living space, bedroom, and kitchen all in one. A simple wooden bed with a straw mat was the only proper furniture. Arka laid her gently on the mat and rushed to fetch clean cloth and a bowl of water.
His hands trembled as he cleaned the blood from her forehead. The wound had dried, leaving a red stain. Her wings… he touched them softly, and she whimpered. They felt like shattered silk. Arka didn't know how to heal her, but he knew she needed rest.
He wrapped her tiny body in his old blanket, hoping warmth would help. Then he sat by her side, gazing at her peaceful face. Who was she? Where had she come from? And what was he supposed to do now? His mind spun. He was just a poor man with nothing but his garden. But he couldn't leave this fragile creature alone. He had to care for her.
Hours passed. The sun dipped low, casting golden rays through the gaps in the hut's walls. Arka remained beside her, checking her breathing from time to time. Then, suddenly, her eyelids fluttered. Slowly, they opened.
A pair of ocean-blue eyes stared at him—filled with confusion, fear, and then… utter shock. The girl tried to rise, but her body was too weak. She looked around the room, then back at Arka with disbelief.
"W-where… am I?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
Arka gave a gentle smile. "You're in my hut. You fell. I found you in my garden," he said softly, trying not to scare her.
The girl fell silent, processing his words. Then her eyes widened. She looked at her torn wings, then his hands, then the room around her. A bitter realization dawned.
"E-Earth?" she gasped, her voice trembling, almost a shriek. "I… I'm on Earth?"
Arka nodded slowly. "It seems so."
She lowered her head. Tears welled in her eyes. The fall—it wasn't a dream. She was truly here, in the world her father had warned her about. Far from home, far from Celestia. She looked back at Arka, eyes glistening with sorrow.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Thank you for helping me."
Arka simply nodded, handing her a glass of water. "Drink. You must be thirsty."
Lira drank slowly, her eyes never leaving the man before her. This man… Arka. He had helped her. In this strange, frightening world, he was the first kindness she found. And something stirred within her—something more than gratitude. A feeling she had never known before… not even in Celestia.
A feeling that would, in time, change everything.