Kickoff written by WillMorgan

Beneath the Foreverblue

A city floating in the sky. What could go wrong?

A father once said, the bleeding of blue like blood in the heavens, dying to a darkened sapphire before circling the celestial drain and closing down into charcoal black is a miracle that transpires overhead every single night.
That specific spectacle never failed to amaze a young man, and never ceased to inspire him. It was a simple simplification in the sense that whatever great power, if there was one, out there in the vast and immense foreverblue, took it upon itself to pull the sun down beyond the horizon and cast the light of day to the far side of the world. This momentous metamorphosis of everything that we can see happens twice daily, once forwards and once backwards, and that in itself is enough to inspire this young man to ask himself, what can I change?
Volitia. The city in the sky. We are not sure who built it or why, or even how long ago. It has always been and is all that there is out here. From its edges, one may peer down into the dank nothingness below and on the clearest
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of days see a bed of swirling green and black forked with streaks of malformed lightening. The Elders call it Greenocean, although that word is alien to us. It’s one of those sayings passed down from before, only we don’t know when before was, or how it came to pass. The old stories tell of something solid, like the Ore, existing beneath this cloud, but it’s impossible to know for sure. Going beyond the limits of Volitia is forbidden. The Ore, the stone that makes up the heart of our city, holds on to the forever blue and hangs there, safe from the Greenocean below, and its deadly embrace. The dead are the only ones who have ever visited it, and none have returned. Some have intentionally gone, driven by blind curiosity and misery; undertaking the foreverdrop voluntarily. We call it that because even if you scream all the way to the bottom, the sounds of your dying cries will dwindle in the wind long before the surface of the Green rises to meet you, if there is one at all. Your body will
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be consumed by it and disappear and that will be your end, destined to fall for all time. It serves as a stark reminder to our precarious position here in the Blue, trapped between two colours, one representing life, the other death, existing only so long as Volitia continues to fly.

And how does it do that? Well, I’ve often wondered myself, and have, I regret to say, in my impetuous youth, snuck down for a look, but it’s impossible to say really. The High Council seem hell bent on calling it the Lifemetal, the thing of which it’s all made, and are insistent on everyone else doing the same, but a vague propaganda attempt worries no one. We call it Ore.

Life is simple here.

We are assigned our jobs, told our life’s limit and can live happily within that limit, safely knowing it. But there are better opportunities. Vocations passed down is the norm; farmers begetting farmers, smiths begetting smiths, builders begetting builders, Arbiters begetting Arbiters, but in my case, a tinkerer
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seemed to have begat a dreamer. Tailor has always had high hopes; his mind is sharp and lustful, his heart empty and wanting. So off he’s gone to impress them. If he succeeds then they will grant him his wish, for more, but if not, and if, Blue willing, he offends them in some way, then he will see the Green.

The blue is fading to black now and the lanterns have lit. Blue be with you, Tailor Mikklerklek. Blue be with you.


Tailor Mikklerklek stood before them, before the high council, and waited for their answer to the question that he had just had to ask.

Could he defy is lineage and become an inventor? Could he find be granted the chance to follow his curiosities, and discover the secrets of Volitia?

By the look on their faces, he didn't think so.
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Plot twist

Award this author for a very awesome unexpected radical change in the expected direction.