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I am currently at 12700 words, and I will probably get a lot more today.

I haven’t posted on here for the past few days, but my favorite lines two days ago was this: (The Curtain is a huge waterfall stretching into the sky, btw)

“Be calm.”

Vromidon could hear a voice instructing him in his head, but it was hard to obey it.

“Be calm.”

Vromidon bent his mind toward obeying that simple task; being calm, and the world speeding past him seemed to slow.

“Be calm,” Jay whispered again, trying to shut out the nausea and the hopelessness. He had to go out strong, not as a coward. He had to make his last moments count. Dying boldly might be his only chance at being a hero.

“Be calm,” he whispered again, and he shut his eyes, and forced himself to smile. The spinning seemed to stop, and although he could still feel the wind rushing past him, it was easier to imagine that he was not plummeting. He was calm.

Vromidon waited for his mind to replay the quiet encouragement again, but it didn’t come. There was no voice telling him to be calm. It was no longer time to be calm, he realized. It was time to act, to be bold and to be strong. It was the time to be do it. It was the time to fly. He couldn’t drop forever; at some point he would hit the ground.

Vromidon thought about all the reasons why he should fly and how he would do it for several minutes. It was much easier to think about the job in front of him, but it was much harder to actually do it. Vromidon lifted his eyes and saw the White Curtain shining in all its glory in front of him. It looked just as glorious in moonlight as in sunlight, and regardless of the light, it still seemed to shine. Normally when he saw the Curtain, the drops were falling too far for him to concentrate on them, but now they seemed to be rising. He knew it was because they were not falling as fast as he was, but somehow he wanted to think that the Curtain was doing magic. Or was it always doing magic? Why did things even fall? Was it magic? Was he part of magic right now?

Was he even falling, or was the world shooting upward? Maybe the world was traveling up the curtain, and Vromidon was the one thing not moving.

As he watched the curtain move upward, he felt as though he were not moving but was frozen in midair, and it was normal for the curtain to flow upward. But he knew how to fly; he had wings. He was a dragon. He didn’t have to stay down here. He could follow the water. Where was the water going? What was at the top of the falls? Vromidon wanted to catch the water droplets and keep up with them. He wanted to beat them too the top.

Vromidon raised his wings, barely noticing the pain. He picked a water droplet and raced. He was slower for only several seconds, and then he found that he was pulling into the lead. But the water wasn’t rising anymore; it was falling like normal. The magic was over, but a new magic had begun. He was flying. He had thought he couldn’t fly anymore, but he had. And he was still.

The water began to slow to a stop, and for a second, the curtain seemed completely still. Vromidon knew what would happen if he didn’t rise again. The magic of the curtain going upward would begin, but the magic of flight would end. So Vromidon stroked and he flew slowly at first, but he began to grow in speed.