Gravity was a suggestion. Currently, it was a bad one.
Victor Corvinus hung upside down from the central crystal chandelier. His knuckles were white as he gripped the brass frame. His hair dangled towards the ceiling, which, according to his inner ear, was now the floor.
The gravity had shifted overnight, rotating a full 180 degrees. The manor was throwing a tantrum.
Blood rushed to his head. It throbbed behind his eyes, a rhythmic pressure that made thinking feel like wading through syrup.
"More tea, Master Victor?"
Yggdrasil stood on the ceiling. To the wooden butler, the inversion was perfectly natural. He was currently polishing the plaster rosette with a rag, humming a tune that sounded like wind through dead leaves.
"No," Victor gritted out. "I want... down."
"Down is relative
