I grab my sister’s hands and pull her towards the direction of the cliff edge with me. She nods slowly in my direction. Then we jump.

For a millisecond, we’re weightless, falling fast as the wind whips against our faces. I feared we would shattered apart in the air, but instead I grabbed tighter. The sea is clashed up to meet up, but just before we sink in, everything shifts.

We don’t crash, or even land. No splash.

Instead, we’re floating. Suspended. The air feels thicker like warm water and waves freeze mid crash. The sky turns a deep unfamiliar colour - it’s not day or night. It’s something in between. The sounds drop low to a bass as we slow.

My sister turns to me, wide-eyed.

“It worked.”

I glance up to the world above, floating - impossible. I remember this so vividly and for years I thought it was a figment of my childhood imagination but now. It’s the same.

“Do you think she’s here?” My sister asks pensively. Her finger tips drum against mine. So I nod.

“She has to be. Our mother wouldn’t leave without a path for us.”