Castles in the Clouds
by KJ Kabza
The Fortress of Omn hums in the heart of a cumulonimbus cloud. We are the warriors who bring the lightning and the storms. "A cold front," say the duped meteorologists on the surface world below. The warpath, say we.
Every generation has its radical philosophers, but mine has the deadliest. "Why must we live so brutally?" they argue, in grand halls of ice and dark. "Why worship chilling tempests? Why not gentleness and warmth?"
Our unspent lightning piles up. My comrades, the dwindling few who believe in the nobility of toil, die from overwork, slinging hail. Their mourners are even fewer, and finally, it's just me.