The soaring sky darkens at my presence as it always had. Science would never be able to explain it, because it wasn't. In the appearance of human life, the floating island seems to dim, as though the very protection of it depended on the dusking sky.

The thought of it bewildered me at first, but the sight of it over time made me despise it. It was hiding it. I just know it. This island was hiding it. Grandfather could have warned me. But he would never as he would say," Your struggles shape you to become better than the pain". I always hated that about him. His glimming smile as he filled our day with secrets and riveting stories of his magical past. The tales he would spew made me wonder if he was really just a mad person. I'd believed them all my life, but at the very age of 35, I soon realized that his tales were something more. What striked this realization, I couldn't quite touch it, but a worn letter in the mail told me more than I needed to know.

It was on this land.

At night, when the world stopped breathing, I saw it beating. A shiny light emitting from its middle. It was floating it the midst of the jungle, freezing the very life within its hold. I was a grasp away. My fingers inching to seize it from its hold. One second it was breathing, the next it vanished into thin air.

No, no, no.

I had been so close. The answers I have been seeking my whole life, so close yet so far. I will not give up this time. Not after last time.

I will find it.

Rain threatens to fall as the brewing thunder strikes the air. In a minute or two, the land would be drenched in water, soaking the floor with heavy downpour.

Phase 2.

I'd been here long enough, month after month, to recognize the different phases the land will be parade in order to hide it away. I plunge through the muddy forest floor, making my way to the hidden cottage of the west. Time and time again, I went there. The cottage became my refuge, cozying me and thawing me enough to continue forward everyday.

The creaking door rattles the forest, the sound echoing round. Drizzle has already tumbled down, rushing me forward. A quick look around and I knew this time, someone's presence was evident. The stacks of crumpled paper lay dormant, untouched, the coats hanging about their hangers hung steadily, the leftover cans of food sat spoiled atop the mini table, but it was the rummaged closet door that caught my attention.