The Fortress in the Clouds

WHEN ARGUS SAID that they were not in any sort of rush, he was not lying about it. When Naomi finally placed her graphite pencil down on the cold hard ground that was now warmed with her body heat, the sun was already well up in the sky. It glided across the azure and white, standing out brilliantly against the clouds in a grand contradiction of colors.

“Are you done already?” Argus asked, his tone kind and curious.

“Yes.” Naomi’s eye’s scanned over her drawing, fingers barely even grazing the details, careful not to smudge it. “Yes, I think I am done.”

“Let me see.”

Argus did not wait for Naomi to respond before he grabbed the leather bound journal from her hands, holding it close to his face before his lips parted slightly.

“Woah.” He whispered breathily, blinding a few times in concession.

His fingers traced the drawing, making Naomi cringe a little in fear of him messing up the fine lines and blurring them to an ugly smudge of gray. When his fingers gradually lifted off of the parchment, the stone that weighed down Naomi’s chest also lifted.

“This is amazing. I never thought that such a view could be captured so effortlessly. You did its beauty justice,” he applauded.

Hearing his words, Naomi’s eyes darted back to the paper. However, it seemed as though the longer she looked at it, the uglier it became. The lines were no longer accurate and the shading was all messed up. The sun was not a perfect semi-circle that kissed the surface of the ocean like it should have been and the clouds were bland and shapeless with no imagination to it. For the span of time in which she studied her own work, the more reason she found to criticize it.

It was not as ready to be seen by the world as she thought after all.

“No.” She shook her head, allowing her head of black curls to tumble around her face. “It is far from what you say it is.”

Reaching out, she took back the leather-bound journal painfully slow, prying it off of Argus’s hands before slamming it shut and shoving it into her bag. The carving of her name on the covers of the book burned her fingertips and she was careful not to pay it too much attention. She did not need to be reminded that all of the works inside that book was drawn by her.

All of them were failures.

Once it was gone from her eyes, she no longer felt the weight of her artistic failure. It was finally gone, tucked away from the eyes of those who deserved to see something better.

“You are just being modest, lowlander.”

Argus must have noticed Naomi’s sullen expression because he attempted to counter it with a cheery and bright smile. Standing up, he dusted his pants before reaching out a hand for Naomi to take. When she did, he easily hoisted her up to her feet before whistling for Rayner to follow along. The wolf had fallen asleep by Argus’s foot, eyes closed shut and breathing steady. At that moment, it looked no more threatening than a small teacup dog.

“Come on. We still have to get back to the main courtyard before my mother sends the hounds after me for missing breakfast. There is still so much to show you!” He gleefully laughed, pulling at Naomi’s hand before dragging her back where they came from, taking a different turn when they were met with a fork in the road.

It was not too long before Naomi saw the light at the end of the tunnel again. Before she could see past it though, she heard what was beyond that light. There was laughter that rang like a thousand bells, echoing merrily into the day sky. Occasionally, she could hear the bluebirds singing and the sound of water gushing.

Naomi was granted the chance to listen in on the sounds of paradise before she even saw it. When she did, however, she could barely even contain her awe-filled expression. It leaked onto her face, contorting her expression as she breathed in sharply.

Argus chuckled at her expression, slinging his arm over her shoulder like they had been best friends since infancy. Too engrossed in living out her dream, Naomi did not even bother to shrug his arm off of her.

“Welcome to the fortress, lowlander.”