Chapter 93 — The Road To Echoes

• They left the place the Seraphin Drakes had chosen for them while the air still tasted of starlight.
• The plateau fell away into the valley like a folded page, and the caravan descended into a world molded of light. Rivers ran like liquid glass beneath braided bridges of pale stone. Trees grew in concentric rings, their leaves glinting in colors Lucia had no names for. Every footfall set faint bells ringing in the air — some natural, some woven into a geography that was older than the people who trod it.
• Kelvin rode at Lucia’s shoulder. He watched the land as a man reads a book he cannot yet put down. The shard at Lucia’s hip sent a subtle warmth through her sash; it pulsed when she slowed, and quickened when she urged the mare forward. The valley around them seemed to take its beat from that light.