24
MYLA
Minutes later, Lincoln and I walk along yet another sparkling corridor in Arx Hall. At the end of this passage, there’s a tall alcove and a pulpitum transfer platform, which is a large metal disc that’s set onto the floor.
As we step onto the circle, a voice sounds from hidden speakers.
“Greetings, your Majesties.”
“Hello, Alfred.” Lincoln knows who’s on duty this time of at Transfer Central because, duh.
“Are you ready to transport to Purgatory?” asks guy that I now know is named Alfred.
Lincoln guides me so my back settles against his chest. He then wraps his arms around me, resting his palms on my belly. This isn’t just a snuggly position. Transfer platforms jerk along worse than a human-style roller coaster. It’s best to have someone to hang onto.
“Ready,” I call.
Linc
