The reception was not the reunion I had expected. We were led not into a banquet hall but into a chamber of mirrors at the heart of the White Tower. The refugees were being guided away to "Acclimatization Zones"—vast, beautiful parks where silent, silver-clad attendants moved with a mechanical grace that made my skin crawl.
"Where are you taking, my people?" I demanded as we entered the council chamber.
The room was a perfect circle of obsidian. Killian and the twins were with me, but I could feel the tower’s dampening field—a localized version of the Dead Zone—pressing down on my mind. It made the silver fire feel heavy, like lead in my veins.
"They are being integrated," Lilith said, turning to face me. She wasn't alone. Sitting in a semi-circle of obsidian thrones were five other
