The citadel of Lord Valerius was not a dark, scary fortress. It was a single, elegant spire of pure white metal that rose from the exact center of the perfect city, so tall that its peak was hidden in the gray clouds.
As Ryan walked alone across the vast, empty plaza toward its entrance, he felt the weight of a thousand pairs of eyes on him. His companions watched from the bridge of the Odyssey, their faces tight with worry.
The silent, placid citizens of Asylum watched him pass, their expressions as blank and unreadable as ever.
Before he left, he had given his team a single, strict order. "No matter what happens," he had said, looking each of them in the eye, "no matter what you hear or see, you do not interfere. You do not storm the citadel. You do not attack. You trust me." It was the hardest order he had ever had to give.
