The reality of the jail cell was a stark, brutal contrast to the gilded cages of my former life. The air was thick with the smell of stale cleaning chemicals and human despair. The mattress was thin, the walls were concrete, and the silence, broken only by the clang of distant doors and the low mumbles of other inmates, was deafening.
I was in a holding cell in Rikers Island, booked under several counts of public disturbance, property damage, and violation of bail terms. But my mind wasn't focused on the judicial system; it was focused on a bioluminescent fungus growing thousands of miles away.
My seventy-two hours of enforced penance, orchestrated by Elara through her proxy lawyers, had begun.
My defense attorney, an overworked man named Mr. Chen who was clearly confused by the strange
