“Madela, stay away from the cliff!”

“Yes, Grandma!”

The girl stepped back from the ledge. It wasn’t a long fall: She could easily make out the people walking down below, back home in the quiet country village of Briar And Veil, but today wasn’t about them anyway. Today was her ninth birthday, and she and all the other children had come up to the top of the Giant’s Chair to celebrate.

It was a beautiful day for it, too: the wind was present but not too harsh, the weather was warm without boiling, and there had been no sign of rain. Above them, a skycalf drifted by, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of cloud. It was early spring, and the grass on the hilltop had never seemed greener. Even the walk up through the woods had been less scary than usual: Grandma had even commented on how brave she’d been, how quickly she was growing up. The trip wasn’t entirely without its frights, though: she’d seen a horned boa, but it was far away, and she was pretty sure it had been asleep. Maybe she still had some growing up to do.

Her nose picked up the scent of something delicious, and she turned almost instinctively toward the picnic blanket where Grandma was setting up the food. As she watched, the old woman reached into her basket and pulled out… was that? It was! Bloomberry pie! Madela’s favorite, but it was a rare treat these days: The harvest had been poor this year, and fresh bloomberries were expensive.

She reached out toward the pie, but Grandma gently pushed her hand away. “Now, now, dear. It’s not time to eat yet. Why don’t you go play with your friends while I finish setting up?” Madela glanced over at the other children, playing a game of groundball by the forest’s edge, then glanced back toward the pie. Grandma smiled and kneeled down to meet the little girl at eye level.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said, placing a hand on Madela’s shoulder. “We can’t eat yet, but if you wanted to open a present early, I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Madela’s eyes widened. She never got to open her presents early. Grandma reached over to the pile and picked up a small wooden box. “Here,” she handed it to the girl. “This one’s from your mother. She wanted you to have it.”

Madela’s hands trembled as she gently lifted the lid. She hadn’t seen her mother in almost a year, since she’d gone off to the front lines. Some of the other kids said she was dead, but Madela knew that wasn’t true. She’d come back to Briar And Veil some day, once she’d won the war.

Inside the box was a necklace. It was nothing fancy, but Madela recognized it immediately: Her mother used to wear it every day. It was a simple bronze chain, with chipped paint intended to make it look silver, and in the middle sat a shiny red stone. “She couldn’t take it with her,” Grandma said as Madela stared, mesmerized. “She couldn’t risk losing it on the battlefield. It’s a family heirloom, that: it was mine before it was hers, and now it’s time for it to be yours. Take good care of it, Madela. Who knows, maybe someday you’ll pass it on to your daughter.”

Madela rolled her eyes and lifted the necklace out of the box. She had some trouble with the clasp, but with Grandma’s help she managed to put it on. It hung a little loose around her neck, but she’d grow into it. “Now go play with your friends,” Grandma said. “I’ll let you know when it’s time to eat.”

Madela nodded and wandered over to the other children. They already had full teams, but it was her birthday so Yuin volunteered to sit out so she could play. She wasn’t very good at groundball, so she always played backstop: most of the kids couldn’t hit it that far anyway. Still, it was fun to run around.

“Food’s ready!” Grandma called after a while. Madela turned toward the picnic blanket, but before she could start walking she heard Josi shout “One more inning!” and turned back. The bloomberry pie could wait a little longer.

It was an eventful inning. Madela even scored once, although she privately suspected Tyla had held her throw a little too long in order to let her. She hadn’t complained, though: It felt good to be winning. But now she was back in the field, holding down the backstop, and Josi was at the plate.

Most of the kids were decent hitters, but Josi was something else. She was a year older than Madela, and all the kids knew she was the best player in Briar And Veil. Her team had two people on the field already, and when Ozra rolled the ball, she knocked it deep, hitting straight through the gap between Dayla and Callo and barreling toward Madela.

“I’ve got it!” she shouted, positioning herself directly in the path of the ball and preparing to scoop it up, but at the last second, it bounced off a rock and went careening through her legs. The other children laughed, but Madela was determined, and turned to chase after it.

“Madela, look out!”

She hadn’t seen the rock. It barely protruded from the ground, but it was enough to trip her. She hadn’t seen the cliff either, but she realized too late that the ball had gone over, and if she couldn’t stop her momentum, she would too. She tried to grab the edge, but it was soft dirt, and even as light as she was, it gave way under her weight.

It hadn’t seemed like a long fall, but now that she was in it, it felt like eternity. The ground was rapidly approaching, and yet still distant. She tried to brace her hands for the landing, and then…

Nothing.

There was nothing. No ground, no cliff, no Giant’s Chair, no Briar And Veil. The world had disappeared. She was still moving downward, but it felt wrong to call it “falling”. There was nothing left to fall into.

Water.

There was water. She hadn’t landed in it. There had been no splash, no ripple, no disturbance of any kind. It just wasn’t there, and then it was. She couldn’t breathe, but she’d always been a strong swimmer, and the surface wasn’t far above her. As she broke through, she took a big gulp of air, looked at the water, and froze.

The lakes around Briar And Veil had been crystal-clear. You could see all the way to the bottom, where the brightly colored fishes swam. Grandma always said not to go down there, not to bother them in their fishy homes, but when Grandma wasn’t looking, it was Madela’s favorite place to be.

This water was different. It was dark and angry. She could barely make out her own feet through the murky waves, but that wasn’t the strangest part. What she couldn’t understand was how the water seemed to curve, rising up toward the horizon and slowly becoming the sky. It gave her the impression she’d been trapped inside a balloon.

A stone skipped past her head, bouncing a few more times on the water before sinking down to the depths. Madela turned around, and saw the island. It was small, barely big enough for the cabin that sat on top. The cabin itself was falling apart, with signs of rotting wood in places. Most of the windows were broken or missing, and the door hung off its hinges.

Jutting out over the water toward where Madela floated was a wooden deck, and on the edge of that deck sat an old woman, older than anyone she’d had ever seen. The woman wore a plain black robe, with a pointy black hat resting at an angle on her head. The hat looked faded and the buckle hung open, although Madela wasn’t sure why a hat needed a buckle in the first place.

The two stared at each other a long time, Madela treading water while the old woman watched and pondered… something. Eventually she stood up, grabbed a rope from the deck, and lowered it down so the girl could climb up. Madela hesitated: Grandma had always told her not to trust strangers, and this was one of the strangest people she'd ever met. But the woman beckoned her up. “Come now, dear, you’ll catch cold if you don’t get out of there…” She had to admit she was cold, and her legs were getting tired from treading water. She wouldn’t be able to swim anywhere else, if there was even anywhere else to swim to. Surely Grandma would understand if she trusted a stranger just this once.

Once she was up on the deck, the old woman handed her a towel. “You best dry off, dear. I’m afraid I haven’t got any clothes in your size, but I’m sure we can find something suitable.” Madela wiped the water from her face, then looked up at the woman. Up close, any illusion of frailty about her was gone: confidence and power were written all across her wrinkled face. Madela was surprised to realize that she wasn't scared. “What’s your name, Dear?”

“Madela,” she replied quietly. “Who… Who are you?”

“Call me Granny,” the woman leaned over, brushing a wet strand of pink hair from Madela’s face. “Now… I wonder how you got here?”