The next morning, we’re on the move again. Killian calls a cab. As the sleek dark sedan pulls up, Killian gives the driver a gold coin and an address that doesn’t exist on any map.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To a place only those like us can find,” he replies. “Hold on tight.”
I grip the door handle, heart pounding, the driver veers into an alley too narrow to belong to any city grid. The air thickens. Sunlight dims. Outside the window, the world blurs, like fog sliding over glass, until the illusion dissolves completely.
We’re no longer in the same city.
The buildings lean with age, their ancient stones whispering secrets. The sky hangs darker, tinted with perpetual dusk. Lamps flicker with amber fire, casting shadows that move on their own. The people aren’t quite human, eyes gli
