In the tidy, practical village of Groundwell, dreams were kept firmly underfoot. The sky was a ceiling, the horizon a wall, and the clouds were merely decorations. No one ever looked up for long. Except for a girl named Elara, who spent her days lying in the meadow, imagining what the clouds were made of.One afternoon, a shooting star, a silver scratch across the twilight, seemed to fall directly into her meadow. Curious, Elara found a small, crater-like dent in the soil. At its center lay a single seed, unlike any she had ever seen. It was pearlescent and swirled