Chapter 1: Redwood kingdom

The redwood kingdoms never slept, but mornings came loudest.

Marci vaulted the last rope bridge with too much force, boots skidding on dew-slick planks. Below, the drop plunged hundreds of feet to mist-choked roots the size of rivers; above,

 the canopy swallowed the sky in green cathedral light. He caught his balance, heart hammering not from the height, but from the stupid thrill of almost falling. Again.

“Late again, hero?” Kael’s voice boomed from the school platform ahead. The tall boy leaned against a vine railing, arms folded, grin wide enough to show the gap in his front teeth. “Master’s gonna make you run laps around the trunk this time.”

“Master can try,” Marci shot back, jogging up. He bumped fists with Kael, then ducked as Lira flicked a pebble at his head.

“Try harder next time,” Lira said, smirking. Her dark braids swung as she balanced on one foot, pretending to tightrope the edge just to mess with him. “Or are you too busy staring at certain people to notice clocks?”

Torin, sitting cross-legged with a book balanced on his knees, didn’t look up. “She’s not even here yet.”

Marci’s ears burned. “Shut up, both of you.”

The platform buzzed with morning chaos kids shouting, teachers calling roll, the distant creak of pulley-lifts hauling supplies from lower levels. Marci dropped onto the wooden bench beside Torin, trying to act normal. Normal was hard when Fyumi walked in.

She moved like wind through branches light, sure, never quite hurried. Black hair tied back with a red cord, sleeves rolled to her elbows, a small scar on her cheek from some childhood fall she never talked about. She laughed at something a younger kid said, and the sound hit Marci like a warm gust.

Kael elbowed him. Hard. “Breathe, man.”

The morning passed in flashes of stupid joy.

During break, they raced the outer ring leaping from one suspended walkway to the next, betting strips of dried fruit on who’d slip first. Kael won by cheating (a dramatic fake stumble that sent Lira shrieking), then lost spectacularly when Torin calmly stepped over him and claimed the prize.

Later, sprawled on the sun-warmed trunk ledge overlooking the endless green sea below, they traded stories. Lira told the one about the trader who tried to sell 

“genuine dragon scales” that were just painted bark. Torin quietly corrected every exaggeration. Kael tried and failed to impress them with backflips.

Fyumi joined halfway through, sliding onto the ledge beside Marci without a word. Their shoulders brushed. He forgot how to speak for three full seconds.

“You guys are loud enough to wake the roots,” she said, stealing a piece of fruit from Kael’s pile. “What’d I miss?”

“Marci almost confessed his undying love to the sky again,” Lira deadpanned.

Fyumi turned, eyes sparkling. “Did he now?”

Marci wanted to die. Or fly. Mostly die.

“I—I was just saying the view’s nice,” he mumbled.

She smiled, small and real. “It is.”

The bell rang too soon. Friends scattered with promises to meet after classes. Marci lingered, watching Fyumi disappear into the crowd. Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow he’d actually say it.

Evening crept in gold and shadow. The canopy turned amber, wind carrying the scent of pine resin and distant cookfires. Marci jogged the familiar spiral path upward, stomach tight with nerves and hunger. He’d promised Master no more tardiness.

The training platform hung high, isolated, lashed between three colossal trunks. No railings just open air and trust.

Marci burst through the last curtain of leaves, panting.

His master stood at the center, back straight, arms crossed over his weathered chest. Long silver-streaked hair stirred in the breeze. The old man’s eyes sharp as hawk talons locked on him without surprise.

“You’re late,” Master said quietly.

Marci swallowed. The words felt heavier than the drop behind him.