This world had a name, but Lucian didn't bother learning it.
Names didn't matter when you were just passing through. And he was always just passing through now. Two months of jumping from reality to reality, chasing echoes that faded before he could catch them, and he'd stopped bothering with local details.
Magic, though. That was different.
Magic meant rules he didn't understand. Rules meant he had to pay attention, even when he didn't want to.
The city sprawled around him like a living thing. Streets twisted back on themselves. Alleys opened into courtyards that opened into more alleys. Every corner had a vendor selling something—food, cloth, potions that probably didn't work, charms that definitely didn't work.
Lucian walked without purpose.
That was new for him. He'd spent two months with purpose. Get up, search, follow the trail, hit a dead end, move to the next world. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Now there was no trail. Cael had said it clearly: After this, the trail ends.
