Flutterby knelt in the dusty soil behind her small cottage, fingers pressing a seed into the earth. She wanted to build a butterfly garden that would draw travelers from across Roar. A place where people could find hope among the flowers and wings. She patted the dirt down and stood, brushing her hands on her shorts. The garden needed more than flowers, though. It needed something special, something magical that would make people stop and stay. She walked to the edge of her property where the ground dropped away into mist. Through the white clouds, tall spires rose into the sky like fingers reaching upward. The old castle floated there, its towers made of clouds that never quite dissolved. Flutterby smiled. That's where she would build the heart of her garden. She would fill those ethereal halls with butterfly houses and blooming vines. Travelers would climb the spires and find butterflies waiting at every turn. Her wings fluttered with excitement as she pictured it: a sanctuary in the clouds where hope lived on delicate wings.