Aether walked.
At first, nothing changed.
The islands stayed high, suspended above the sea, stone platforms hanging in open air as if the world had decided height alone was enough to keep people alive. Bridges stretched between them, creaking softly beneath his steps, iron fittings cold beneath his hands when he brushed past railings. The water remained far below, distant and unreachable, its sound muted by height and mist.
Up here, the city felt detached.
People moved with routine confidence. Merchants called out prices. The ring of metal from the smith echoed between walls. Lanterns burned even during the day, their glow softened by fog. Everything felt stable, as if falling was no longer a possibility worth considering.
Aether kept walking.
The bridges began to change.
