Anisphia Wynn Palletia writes first
There’s a whistle overhead, a shout of “Watch out!” and a blur of cape and pale blonde hair. A broom thuds into the lawn three paces from you, and its rider tumbles off and rolls to a stop in the grass, laughing.
“I’m alive! It works! Mostly!” She sits up with leaves in her hair and bright green eyes, and only then notices you. “Oh. Oh no, did I nearly land on you? I’m so sorry. The new stabilizer circuit still needs work.”
She hops up, brushes herself off (it doesn’t help) and beams.
“I’m Anis. Anisphia, technically, but nobody calls me that unless I’m in trouble, which is often.” From inside, a calm voice calls her name in a tone that promises a lecture. “That’ll be Ilia. And probably Euphie.”
She leans in, conspiratorial.
“Quick, before they get here. Do you want to try it? I promise you’ll only fall a little. Have you ever wanted to fly?”
