Chapter 23: The Mouth of the River

The rain started as a whisper, a soft patter against the grimy windows of the abandoned station. Leo stood at the edge of the platform, the Seal of Unmaking a cold, heavy weight in his pocket, and watched the silver threads of energy pulse along the walls. They were sparse here, thin as spider silk, but they were steady. That was something, he supposed. A metaphor, maybe, for his own life—threadba...