[000] higher, higher, higher

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┌───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────┐
PROLOGUE
higher, higher, higher
└───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────┘

┌───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────┐PROLOGUEhigher, higher, higher└───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────┘

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☆.。.:*  .。.:*☆

THE jet-shaped shadow of naval aircraft soars over Californian soil, whistling in the air as it cuts a trail in the sky. Sunset has turned into dusk, the first glittering specks of starlight visible on the pale canvas above the world. In one small corner of the planet, in a much-frequented playground, a seven year-old girl sits on a squeaky swing set. Her eyes are trained on this endless expanse above her — she studies it with laser-focused, but most importantly serious fascination.

Celeste knows she has to be up there one day.

She doesn't know how, or why. But the feeling is deep in her bones, her knuckles tightening around the swing's chains as she stares upwards in awe. Maybe it was always going to be inevitable. After all, her childhood consists of being shuttled around naval bases, thanks to her helicopter pilot father. The aviation bug was bound to bite the Sterling children at some point.

Something about Celeste is different, though — she wants more.

Next to her, a muffled mess of limbs squeaks down the playground's tube slide. The plastic cylinder spits out a young boy Celeste knows very well — Bradley Bradshaw. A week shy of his eighth birthday, the boy still has plenty of growing to do, and yet takes quiet pride in being the oldest of the group. And by the group, he means the faces he and Celeste associate with the long days spent waiting for their fathers at naval bases. Bradley likes the responsibility he thinks he has, in all honesty. When he gets out of the slide, he straightens the baseball cap on his head, framing his cautious dark brown eyes.

Bradley squints over at the girl on the swings, watching her skyward-cast gaze.

"What're you looking at?" he asks.

"The sky," she replies simply.

"Huh..."

For the lack of a breeze, Bradley walks behind the girl and starts gently pushing the swing. Celeste's breath catches as every push draws her nearer to the stars, the promise of reaching them appearing at arm's length. Meanwhile, another plane soars over the children from the nearby naval base.

"I figure I'll be flying like them someday," Bradley announces. "Like Mav, and... and like Dad."

"You think?"

"Yeah. I couldn't do anything else. Could you?"

Celeste's lip quivers with a quiet mischief. She pounds her feet against the ground, letting it push her higher up along the swing's pendulum motion.

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