The City Above the Clouds

No one in Arham’s village believed the stories about the City Above the Clouds. They said it floated in the sky, hidden behind thick silver mist, and that only those who truly believed in impossible things could ever see it. Children whispered about it during play, and elders laughed gently, calling it nothing more than an old legend told to make nights interesting. But Arham never laughed. He believed.

From a young age, Arham had watched the sky more than the ground. While others worked in the fields or repaired fishing nets, he would lie on the grass and stare upward, imagining tall towers resting on clouds and glowing bridges stretching between them. His father often shook his head and told him to focus on real life. “Dreams are beautiful,” he would say, “but they don’t build houses.” Still, Arham continued to dream.

One evening, after a long day of helping his family, Arham noticed something strange in the sky. The clouds were not moving with the wind. They were still, almost frozen, and faint golden lights flickered behind them. His heart raced. This was different from anything he had seen before. Without thinking twice, he grabbed his old backpack and began walking toward the hills beyond the village, where the sky always seemed closer.

The climb was difficult. Rocks shifted under his feet, and cold wind pushed against him. Doubt whispered in his mind, asking if he was foolish. But every time he looked up and saw that soft golden glow, his courage returned. After hours of climbing, he reached the highest cliff. The clouds were thick in front of him, glowing brighter now. He stepped forward.

For a moment, there was only mist. Then the fog parted.

Before him stood a city unlike anything he had imagined. Towers made of glass and light shimmered gently. Bridges curved gracefully between buildings. Gardens floated in midair, filled with silver trees whose leaves shone like stars. The air felt warm and calm. Arham stood frozen, overwhelmed by beauty.

A voice spoke behind him. “You finally came.”

He turned to see a woman dressed in simple white clothes, her eyes kind but powerful. She did not look surprised to see him. “Where am I?” Arham asked softly.

“You are in Alerion,” she replied. “The City Above the Clouds. It exists for those who refuse to stop believing.”

Arham could hardly breathe. “Why can I see it?”

The woman smiled gently. “Because belief is stronger than doubt in your heart. Most people lose that balance as they grow older. You did not.”

As he walked through the city, Arham noticed something unusual. The people there were not extraordinary beings. They looked like ordinary humans—artists, inventors, teachers, dreamers. Each person carried a glow around them, faint but visible. “What is this place really?” he asked.

“It is not just a city,” the woman explained. “It is a reminder. Every person here once stood where you are now. They chose to protect their imagination instead of surrendering it.”

Arham felt both inspired and confused. “Can I stay here?”

The woman paused. “You may stay. But if you do, your village will never know what you discovered. Or you may return and carry this belief back with you.”

He thought of his father, of the children who laughed at legends, of the fields and simple houses below. He realized something important: the city was beautiful, but its purpose was not escape. It was inspiration.

“I want to go back,” he said finally. “But I don’t want to forget this.”

The woman nodded. “You won’t. Alerion is not only in the sky. It exists wherever imagination survives.”

The clouds surrounded him again, and when they cleared, he was back on the cliff. The golden light was gone. The sky looked normal. For a moment, he wondered if it had all been a dream.

But in his hand, he held a single silver leaf.

Arham returned to the village changed. He did not speak about floating cities at first. Instead, he began building small inventions, teaching children creative games, and encouraging others to imagine bigger possibilities. Slowly, the village changed too. People experimented more, created more, believed more.

Years later, when children asked Arham if the City Above the Clouds was real, he would smile and say, “It is real for anyone who refuses to let their dreams fall.”

And sometimes, on clear evenings, when the sky glowed softly gold, he would look up and feel that Alerion was still there—watching, waiting, shining quietly above those who dared to believe.