Chapter 7Club Nox was busier this Thursday than last. Jet had first come here a week minus three hours ago, and wow, longest and weirdest week ever.
The busy-ness seemed to be largely farewell parties for people who were leaving for, or going back to, college. Like Jet wished he were, like Darken should have gotten to do three years ago.
Jet shook off the self-pity. At least he wasn’t the morose classmate being mocked over his shorn head, who was shipping out to boot camp tomorrow. Presented with the choice, Jet would definitely opt for ominous magical doom over being devoured by the military-industrial complex.
Which, looked at that way, gave him such a lightbulb moment of perspective that he suddenly felt more optimistic than he had since a week ago.
No, longer. Years, maybe.
It was
