The edge of Aethelgard's outer district faced the Convergence Waters directly. Here, the stone of the floating island dropped away into the deep nothing below, and the wind swept in from the water, carrying the mineral sharpness that Rex had come to associate with this city at this particular hour.
He stood there for a moment, letting the wind work on him, contemplating the threshold he was crossing, the one he had already crossed, and the one that lay ahead.
The city behind him was settling in at night. The streets he had walked through to reach this point were empty in a way unique to places whose inhabitants had made their peace with the darkness, uninterested in negotiating with it.
A few lamps flickered in upper windows. The Academy's outer wall loomed to the northeast, dark save for the duty lanterns at its gate.
Somewhere in the residential district, the Brightsoul household was quiet. Apollo stood in a hallway, cup in hand, reflecting on what Rex had said.
