The dust of the old track lay behind his boots, every grain wordless testimony to the miles he had devoured. Felix stood on the final rise, the wind pulling at his travel-worn cloak, and felt the catch of breath in his throat. The world that was his—soil of silent forests, solitary heights, and the occasional dusty village—gave way, to be followed by a vision so colossal in scale that his brain, for a moment, literally wouldn't take it in.
Hafthor. City of Tomes. The Seat of the Grand Academy.
It wasn't a city, if by city he understood anything that had ever existed. It was a mountain range of architecture, a forest of stonewood and stone and magic and light, stretching over the horizon and reaching up towards the sky. There were towers, needle-thin and impossible to height, that broke t
