1710:
From The Little Book of Fitzartur Foibles
In a land far beyond the reach of sun and star, there was a tiny room suspended deep within the heart of a mighty, enchanted forest. This small chamber hung, like a bird in a cage, within a great glass box that drifted gently through the vastness of the sky. The box was light as a feather, free to fall wherever the wind might will it to go, over hills and rivers, across mountains and seas. No lock or latch barred the box’s walls, yet those within could not step beyond its frail crystal boundaries.
Inside the box lived a curious child, wise beyond her years, who often wondered about the mysterious world beyond her glass prison. She would study the trees waving their arms far beneath her, the clouds drifting lazily above, and the distant reaches where earth kissed the horizon. Yet try as she might, she found no secret whisper or shadow clue that told her she was falling, voyaging ever downward through some unseen force. To her senses, the world hung still and silent, as though she floated in a peaceful, endless sea of nothingness.
Sometimes she thought she might be the only one alive, serenely adrift in a realm where no gust could touch her and no burden weigh upon her. Other times, a flutter of hope stirred—that some hidden magic or silent guardian watched over her journey, invisible but real. Still, no gleam or tremor betrayed the hand that led her on this silent passage. It was as if she were both bound and freed by enchantment, locked forever in a beautiful cage she could neither escape nor fully understand.
Thus, the little girl learned that some mysteries are not to be solved at once, and that one may travel through wonders unseen yet not know of their presence. And so she waited, her heart a lantern in the endless dusk, until she might find the key to open the unseen door and step into the world that gently carried her along its secret path.
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