Where the Clouds Are Thickest

Crystal Cloud Castle was the most beautiful thing in the sky — and Sir Percival had said so every morning for three years.

He stood on the highest balcony, armor gleaming in the early sun, and watched the clouds drift past like lazy sheep. Below the castle, far below, green fields stretched across the land. Above it, the sky was the most perfect shade of blue he had ever seen.

"Good morning to you too," he said to nobody in particular.

The castle hummed around him — not a strange hum, just the sound of thousands of crystals catching the light and sending rainbow ribbons dancing across the white stone walls. A small snowflake drifted past his nose, then another. The castle made its own weather sometimes. That was normal.

Sir Percival smiled and breathed in the cold, clean air.

Everything was exactly as it should be.

Then his boot scuffed something on the balcony floor — a crack, thin as a hair, running straight across the white stone.

The Parrot Who Said Too Much

Sir Percival crouched down and pressed his finger along the crack in the balcony floor. It wasn't just thin — it was long. Much longer than he'd first thought.

He followed it around the corner of the balcony wall. Then stopped.

The crack wasn't alone. There were three more, all running in the same direction, like fingers pointing toward the castle's center tower.

A sharp screech split the morning quiet.

"DOWN! DOWN! DOWN!"

Sir Percival spun around, hand on his sword.

Perched on the balcony railing was a large parrot — brilliant green with a red-tipped beak and wild yellow eyes — gripping the stone with enormous scaly feet and rocking side to side.

"DOWN! DOWN! DOWN!" it shrieked again.

Sir Percival stared at it. "What do you mean, down?"

The parrot tilted its head. Then, very clearly, it said: "The castle is going DOWN."

Sir Percival looked over the railing. Far below, the green fields were closer than they had been yesterday. Noticeably closer.