The Chronicles of Ether Drive

  EPILOGUE: The Summer Solstice More than a month had passed since the Great Collective Grounding, and Anemo had succeeded in publishing The Chronicles of Ether Drive. He had even held several book-signing sessions with children who had become, overnight, fervent fans of the writer and the furry inhabitants of the House of Winds. The evening I am speaking of was no ordinary one; it was the night of the summer solstice, June 21st. The light of the longest day of the year did not yield easily; it refused to make way for the dark, instead dissolving imperceptibly into a violet evening, seemingly woven with magic. In Anemo’s living room, everyone close to him had gathered: Fleur with her curly tuft of hair, Noel alongside Gill and Jim, Aura and Simoon, Remi Storm, and, of course, Mr. Arbalest—officially known as Archibald Peter Stone. They were all prepared to watch the pilot episode of the animated series already streaming on Netmix.  The furry residents occupied a place of honor...

Chapter 20 The Great Grounding  Aeolus had vanished from among the white geraniums, but not entirely. He hadn't fled from the TIIIIII that was shattering the garden. He wasn't afraid of big words. He had gone on a mission... Agent 003.5. Half the size of James Bond. Twice as brave. With a license to press red buttons. He couldn't leave Anemo prisoner to that dreadful microphone, with all its feedback and his implausible, rambling, and... elucubrant speech. A prisoner of the burning spotlights. The audience held its breath. Daisy Queen had dropped her fan. Remi was biting her lips. Anemo wanted the earth to swallow him up, microphone and all, but he couldn't stop spouting "pearls." So, Aeolus said to himself: “Enough.” He slipped under Arbaest ‘s table. He sped past Daisy’s heels. He turned down the side aisle, past the green, black, and brown bins. There, hugging the wall of the house, the gray cabinet awaited him. “ESB Meter + Garden Circuits,” it read. The s...

 Chapter 18 The Collar of the Two Skies “I’m so glad to see you, Dad! I can’t wait for you to tell me everything. Did you meet Noel? Your friend is as full of life as ever!” “Well said, son! Come, take your coffee, or better yet, let’s make one for him too and head over to Noel’s!” “Through the yard or the front door?” Anemo asked while preparing another mug of his “mummy-waking” potion. “Through the front door, like the civilized people we are, son. I can’t wait to see the look on his face!” Silence settled over Anemo’s kitchen, interrupted only by the buzz of a stray fly and Sirocco’s hurried breathing. The khaki backpack, left “to be tempted” by the table leg, was now their great challenge. “Now is the moment!” Mistral muttered, positioning himself strategically on the tiles. “Kiddo, show us what you fished out of the Professor’s ‘cave.’ But be careful, it’s an arfefact, not a chew toy!” Sirocco didn't hesitate. With a determined tug, he pulled out the Collar of the Two Skies. T...

     Chapter 17  Arfefacts and Tevevision Preparations On Wednesday morning—that Wednesday—the sleepy silence of the House of Winds was shattered by some impatient pounding on the door; the lion-shaped metal knocker had turned into a true percussion instrument. "ba-baba-bam-ba-ba-ba..." Asleep on the living room windowsill, not on his comfortable pillow, Mistral would have cursed, but he remembered he was an educated chat noir. "Mon Dieu! Ce n'est pas possible! It’s still early! My fur needs at least 9 hours of sleep, otherwise it loses its sheen!" "Who-who is coming, Mistral? Is it the Lady Mother? Has that event already started and we... we are still sleeping?" Sirocco asked immediately, making an instant appearance with his fluffy tail in the shape of a question mark. "Mistral, is it time to wake Anemo? Has Mrs. Aura arrived?" Aeolus asked as well, preparing to make his way from the corner of the fireplace to the windowsill where Mistral w...

    Chapter 16: Wi-Fi and Lemonade Anemo walked slowly beside his editor toward the house. He was still barefoot, as his plush slippers were too muddy to be worn, so he carried them in one hand like a fresh catch from a day of hunting or fishing. He didn’t walk on the pavement but along its edge, through the grass, struggling to keep his soles clean; he tried to appear relaxed, breaking the awkward silence between him and Stone with an occasional "Ahem" or a "So..." tossed out aimlessly, just to give himself time to think, to remember whether or not he had actually sent the manuscript. He was so confused that he had begun to wonder if he had truly finished writing or if he had only dreamed it, but now there was nothing left to do but continue his journey alongside the man of "grounding," swinging the arm holding the slippers and launching an occasional small projectile of mud that Fleur, a few steps behind them, had to dodge. From time to time, a more stub...

  Chapter 15: Fun and Loy-lity “Hey, gang!” came a voice from behind. “Next time, take me along to play too!” Remi Storm, looking like a teenager in her sports gear, was waving for them to wait. “She’s the only one missing!” Mistral thought with weary resignation, but to his surprise, the whole gang stopped like a freeze-frame to wait for the newcomer. “How are you, Mr. Noel? I haven't seen you in ages.” “I’m doing well, child! Seeing you makes me miss my own children a bit less!” Noel replied, visibly delighted to meet Remi. “Do you still have the whistle you used to start our races? Remember? Anemo, me, Gill, and Jim, all lined up and waiting for the start... Anemo and Jim were the fastest, taking turns.” “Oh, these allergies!” Noel said, wiping away a tear. “I still have a whistle in my pocket, want to see?” Noel opened his palm slowly, presenting a silver whistle that gleamed in the sunlight like a precious treasure. “Is that what you used to train your pigeons, right?” Fleur a...

  Chapter 14: The Match of the Century "Pssst, Mistral! Mistral, you really should warn Anemo somehow!" Aeolus was trying his hardest to be heard and understood by his furry comrade, who was once again busy with his siesta on the living room windowsill. He lay in the honey-colored sunlight that transmitted only the warmth, but not the biting "teeth" typical of Irish weather, through the glass. But Mistral was simply deep in... siesta, much like Anemo often plunges into the fever of writing, hearing nothing. Sirocco, wanting to lend a hand, executed a leap that wasn't exactly successful. Intending to land next to Mistral on the windowsill—but since mathematical calculations and distance estimation are not, as you know, the little guy's forte—he found himself clinging with his tiny claws to the curtain. He dangled dangerously, ready to fall, but with another leap, he landed "safely"... right on the black coil known as Mistral the Parisian, who jumped...

  Chapter 13 Dawn and Feline Betrayals It is true that in Anemo's house there is a dedicated room—an office equipped with everything a writer might need—but that room is rarely used. This particular writer writes in the kitchen, the bedroom, the living room, the yard, or even the bathroom. His house (at least before his mother’s intervention) was usually scattered with sketches, notes, strange maps, and scribbles. When the "writing fever" hits, it isn't an easy burden to bear; it comes like a possession, like a dagger thrust into the ribcage from the inside, and when it leaves, it leaves total exhaustion in its wake. This time, after a whole night of uninterrupted writing, Anemo was fast asleep, his head resting on the round kitchen table that had served as his desk. Beside him lay a little coil of orange fur and a laptop adorned with a heart sticker. At last, he had the story! Aeolus, like a true bookworm, had saved everything and closed the laptop. Now, perched on t...

  Chapter 12: Inspiration in a Cone After Aura’s departure, the House of Winds shone with cleanliness. Order had been established everywhere: every fork, plate, pen, paper, book, reading glasses, slippers, outdoor shoes, reading glasses again, trinkets, and—once more—reading glasses. To put it simply, every little thing now had its place in a house of winds that no longer deserved its name. It looked more like a house prepared for an exhibition or a viewing for potential tenants. With his laptop placed on a round, perfectly polished table in the kitchen, Anemo felt awkward, clumsy, and as if encased in a 19th-century ballroom gown. He would have written, he would have paced from one end of the ground floor to the other, he would have settled comfortably on the sofa in a position natural only to him—but nothing was familiar. The house was no longer his home, and a story does not come to a mind terrified by order. The cats, equally awkward in their shiny fur, were lined up like plush...

  Chapter 11 What is a Durga? "Forgive me, Fleur, but I really can't think today!" Anemo says, taking his mug of coffee with whipped cream in one hand and beginning to pace the lawn with large, barefoot steps. " I believe you, sir! Your Mother Lady is... a different kind of whirlwind; she brings order and..." "A whirlwind, you say? She’s the Great Chaos Tamer... she wouldn't have even needed a whole team to clean up! Anemo continues, looking toward the window where his mother’s silhouette moved with unreal speed. She’s like a Durga of cleaning, Fleur. You get the impression she has ten arms multiplying in the air: with one she's dusting, with another she's sorting bills, with a third she's guiding my life, and with the remaining seven she's driving away any trace of inspiration from this house." Gathered for a council in the flower bed, the three furry friends—the kittens and the recently rescued from the "clutches of pest cont...

  Chapter 9 A few shades of pink With a growling stomach nearly stuck to his spine, yet buoyed by the unexpected news he had just received, Anemo showed up at Aura Gale’s door. The house was located on the even-numbered side of the street, at number 42. He rang the doorbell of the crimson door and, as it chimed, he had the impression that his stomach was growling louder than the bell and that his mother surely heard it. Aura Gale, in her emerald silk robe, was as elegant as ever; she looked at her son with confusion and a hint of worry. “Anemo! Has something happened to your furry ones?” “Mother, I am your son—worry about me, not about those pirates who robbed me of my liver!” Aura sized up her son from head to toe and back again, as if checking to see that he was in one piece and not actually missing his liver. “Are you alright, son?” Stepping into the house with three large strides, Anemo was already in the kitchen. “I’m not alright, Mother, I’m starving. I had prepared a wonderf...

   CHAPTER 8:  The Abduction of the Wizard Liver and the Furry Little Angels A special chemistry had formed between Anemo and Fleur from the very beginning. They complemented each other and, despite the age gap, they took turns being the adult or the child, as if these roles were interchangeable. Now they were both in the kitchen, talking about the new book that seemed to be writing itself, and they were cooking. Fleur had been given the mission of creating a special kefir sauce for the beef liver and onions that had just been searing in the cast-iron skillet. Now, it sat there soaking in its juices, sprinkled only with a pinch of pink salt and some pepper. “Watch closely, Fleur! The sauce you’re preparing is pure magic. We can add a very small clove of garlic—a tiny, tiny one—just so it doesn't overwhelm these golden onions.” Anemo’s stomach and the little girl’s creaked discreetly but in unison just as Anemo’s cell phone, lying right on the kitchen table, began to sing ...

           Chapter 7       To Be or Not to Be Zen At the House of the Winds, the furry ones were making the most of a sunny day, each doing what they did best: Mistral was siesta-ing. He was a true professional in the matter; no one could ever do it more professionally than our dark kitten with his Parisian airs. Sirocco was striving to be a diligent pupil of Aeolus. Truth be told, he wasn’t very good at it, but he was giving it his all to learn how to count: "O-one, t-two, thr-three, f-four, fi-five, se-seven..." Mistral, without even opening an eye or making a move, cleared his throat: "Ahem, kiddo! I guess Anemo’s kibble wasn't enough for you! Where did you leave number six? Did you eat it?" Aeolus took a deep breath: "Come on, focus!" "O-one, t-two, thr-three, f-four, fi-five, s-six, ei-eight, n-nine, te-ten, e-eleven, done!" This time, Mistral opened one eye and raised his head slightly, in a casual sort of way, but immediately returned ...

Chapter 6   The Mother's day   Sunday morning at the House of Winds. Eol, perched on the mantelpiece, "accidentally" dropped a blueberry onto the whiskers of Mistral, who was dozing curled up on the rug. " Pssst!" " I think you’ve grown tired of having teeth in your mouth, you impudent rodent!" Mistral grumbled without even opening his eyes. " It’s Mother’s Day! We have to do something!" "Do I look like your mother to you, little one? Calm down, I was just dreaming... never mind of what, go bother someone else!" Sirocco, also on the rug in the middle of the living room, shifted his gaze from one to the other as if watching a tennis match. "Mother’s Day! So that means Lady Mother, uh, Mrs. Aura Gale has... or hasn't? Tell me, Eol, what does Mrs. Gale have?" " It’s Mother’s Day and our scatterbrain has no clue! After he dismissed her so rudely last time... I’m just saying, a recon... that is, a reconciliation wouldn...

                              Chapter 5  The Spare Sun At the House of Winds, the sun had finally emerged from behind the clouds with a cheerful arrogance, following a long, rainy night that had left behind a physical and mental exhaustion difficult to shake off. Thirsty, it evaporated the droplets from the windowsills and the glass top of the wrought-iron table, while Anemo, barefoot on the still-damp grass of Ether Drive, stretched his stiff neck. He listened to his vertebrae clicking discreetly to the rhythm of a fado melody drifting through the half-open door of number 49. Beside him, a coffee with a pinch of pink salt, cinnamon, and a thick collar of whipped cream promised to resuscitate the spirit. The furry residents had already occupied their strategic points: Aeolus watched everything discreetly from a bed of yellow daffodils and tulips; Mistral was sprawled in the sun on the porch swing; and S...

Chapter 4  The Plush Twin Anemo left the Littlepace shopping centre almost at a run. Outside, the sky was the color of lead, and a fine, cold rain had begun to fall, stinging his cheeks. The walk home, usually a ten-minute stroll, now felt like a survival marathon. He glanced nervously left and right; he wasn't afraid of the few passersby, but of a possible encounter with  Aura , his mother, who the pharmacist had mentioned was "in the area." The main problem was at his feet. On one, he wore a white sneaker, and on the other... the plush dog slipper, brown, soaked, with a pink tongue hanging out insolently. Anemo walked with an exaggerated stride along the edge of the pavement, trying to mask the "beast" among the yellow tulips and daffodils lining the road. With every step, the water-logged plush made a sickening sound:  "Squelch!" Suddenly, out of nowhere, SHE appeared.  Daisy Queen . Plump, elegant, and under a giant umbrella, Daisy blocked the pave...