PREVIEW

... e like city cold. Metal and dust and ozone left over from ten thousand bad enchantments. The kind of cold that stuck behind your ears.

His boots hit pavement.

Still cracked.

Still half-sunk in old rail lines and the smell of engine oil and dead moss.

Behind him, the others came through. One blink at a time. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Senna. Mira. Callen.

All alive. Mostly upright.

Lucen didn’t look at them yet.

He was looking at the man lean ...

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