Broken Glass - Taekook

35

The first things to draw my attention are the towers, these slightly curved structures that seem to reach into the heavens, far beyond the height of the walls behind us. Each one is entirely unique. Some are impossibly thin, so much so that I wonder what could possibly reside within them and have the space for everything they might need. Others are so wide they're more like tall buildings, stretching over the space of an entire district. 

There are towers that, when they've reached a certain height, split like an open mouth and become platforms for neighbourhoods in the sky, before forming a roof above, and tapering into a barely visible point that must be about cloud level. I can just about see the individual windows on these strange little settlements in the towers, individual buildings with gardens and fences and great variety of design. 

The materials used don't entirely make sense either. There are towers made of dark grey stone, some of a jade-like material, others of shimmering mother-of-pearl, others of swirling marble of various shades, one fashioned from what looks like the trunk of an ancient oak tree. There are even branches and a great swirl of ivy leaves that curl round the entire structure. The leaves themselves seem oversized, to the point of ridiculousness, but it's also somehow incredibly beautiful. 

But once I manage to tear my eyes away from the skyline, the ground level is equally baffling. I see houses that are squat and flat, made of roughly hewn sandstone. There are houses made from wood, though I cannot tell where the trees originally were. There's a descending staircase of marble that makes its way down into the earth below, presumably to some sort of underground settlement underneath the city. 

About a hundred feet away, a winding silver river flows through the centre of the city, seeming to meet itself in a giant infinity-shaped loop, constantly feeding into itself. The water is perfectly clear, reflective, though the surface is occasionally disturbed by something moving below. It's surrounded by natural reeds and grasses, which are occasionally rustled as something runs through. At one point, I catch sight of something faintly glowing within the reeds, and then two blue eyes lock onto mine and fade into nothingness. 

The city feels natural and manmade, alien and completely familiar, all in one. Wherever I look, it's like my mind has to keep up with the design choices, the strange twists and turns of the paths that lead from where we stand. The materials they're made of seem to shift, changing from stone to gravel to sand to dirt and back to stone again, as we watch it. 

This city makes no sense, but I love it. 

Once my amazement at the structures within the city begins to fade, I find myself wondering where the people are. Where are the faeries? Why do they need all of this architecture, if they're so small? Queen Arlayna was the size of my little finger when I saw her last. Why would she need something this massive? 

And then the people of this strange world begin to appear, and I start to understand. This isn't just a city for the faeries. It may have been just that, once upon a time, but it now hosts a much larger diversity of creatures. They are the reason for the variety in styles and living conditions. They are the explanation for the confusion and chaos that seems to meld into order around us. 

At the doorways of a few houses, figures start to appear. Some seem humanoid for a moment, before my eyes focus and realise that they have extra arms, or extra legs, or wings, or something else is different about them. I see about three houses, all similarly tiny and mushroom-like, from which three small creatures emerge. They're humanoid in basic shape, but three feet tall, and their eyes are pure black. A lizard-like tail is just visible behind them, and their skin looks scaled, green and vibrant as lichen. 

Another group of individuals is more obviously recognisable as a family of centaurs, or maybe even a herd. I wouldn't know the correct terminology. There are humans with pointed ears and refined, smooth faces that nod at us as we begin to step through Arlayna's version of Eithyr. There are orcish creatures that grunt as we pass, long ivory tusks jutting out from their lower jaws, with light green skin and amber-coloured eyes. A dragonfly the size of my hand passes me, brilliant purple, and Taehyung and I find ourselves mesmerised by the quiet humming of its wings, the gentle music it seems to create as it moves.