It’s a blessing that the event occurred on the farthest coast of Nova Terra, allowing the Imperium Alius and the Custodes Hominum to create a clear barrier between the anomaly and the rest of the world.
THE SCIENCE OF CHANGE BY BARTHOLOMEW REGINALD
Chilly air slapped me with the tang of the sea as I stepped out of the port and onto the platform of Nightsbridge Station. Weathered white stone pillars bordered the black-and-white checkered ground, housing a small redbrick guard’s building. The air between me and the churning gray clouds shimmered with an electric blue glow, the wards protecting travelers from what lay beyond. The ocean on either side of the station acted as a natural barrier, rippling and rolling toward the land, lapping hungrily at the jagged beach beyond the platform.
I took a moment to drink in the sea air and serene vista while my stomach settled. I hated the aftereffects of port travel. Being magically broken down then reassembled hundreds of miles away felt downright wrong. But it was the most common form of travel for long distances, and theonlyway to get to Nightsbridge. It made sense, Nightsbridge wasn’t exactly a tourist attraction, and the only people who lived there did so because they had no choice.
And here I was, hoping to become one of them.
Behind me, the glow of the port faded with a soft crackle, and I hauled my backpack onto my shoulder and strode toward the guard’s office. A tram sat on the tracks beyond, its windows tinted black.
I guessed that was my ride.
The wind whistled a soft lament as I pushed open the door to the guardhouse and stepped into what looked more like a comfortable sitting room than an office. Two armchairs bordered a cheery hearth, and books were piled on a table in the corner beneath a painting of a man with a wiry beard and stern eyes set beneath bushy brows. There was only one window in the building, open despite the chill—a waste of heat if you asked me. But whatever.
A man—who looked very much like the one in the painting but without the beard —was parked behind the official desk. He nursed an impressively large mug in his hands. Tea, if the teapot beside him was anything to go by.
He took a slurp of his beverage and surveyed me from beneath his salt-and-pepper eyebrows. “If yer done gawping, I’ll have yer papers.”
I pulled the pass from my pocket and handed it to him. “It’s sealed and everything.”
“Course it is. Not every day we get avoluntaryvisitor. Especially one who’s requestin’ aPerculiari Petitione.”
“News travels fast.”
He tutted. “Crazy to petition to be admitted here. You do know it’s a death sentence, right?”
“Surely not always.”
“Optimist, huh?”
“No. A survivor.”
A large bird flew in through the window behind him and landed on the top of the armchair.
A raven.
A massive one.
It preened for a moment, then cocked its head to fix me with a cold and calculating stare that was far too intelligent.
“Yes, news does travel fast around here,” the man said. “I mek sure of it.”
The raven cawed as if in agreement.
It had taken five weeks from my legal representative filing the necessary documents to obtain a date for this visit. I didn’t want to wait around another second. “When does the tram leave?”
“As soon as you get on it,” he said. “Not expectin’ anyone else today, are we, Maddox?”
“We certainly aren’t,” the raven replied.
The ravenreplied? Out loud. Fucking hell. I’d come across critters who could communicate through psybonds, but never across an animal that could speak out loud.
The guard let out a bark of laughter and slapped his thigh. “Been a while since I saw that expression on someone’s face.” He turned to Maddox. “Let the border guard know that Miss Onyx is on her way.”
He saidOnyxwithout any inflection of disgust.Didn’t he know about the shit associated with my name?
His eyes narrowed. “Can’t have been easy for you.” The kindness in his tone had unwanted heat gathering behind my eyes. No one, not in all my twenty-one years, had ever shown such consideration.
