The awe that had frozen Isadora to the spot was a luxury she could not afford. It was swiftly consumed by a new, sharper terror. This was not a place for a mortal girl, disguised or not. This was a place where nightmares walked and breathed and haggled over the price of stolen souls.
She forced her trembling legs to move, stepping off the platform and melting into the bizarre, jostling crowd. She kept her cap pulled low, her eyes down, her hand clutching the small, precious candle as if it were the last light in the world. The air was a thick, heady soup of smells: strange, spicy foods she couldn't name, the metallic tang of blood, the damp, earthy scent of fungus, and the ever-present, underlying stench of sulfur and despair.
This was Kasien Locke's world. A city of secrets, built in the dark. How was she supposed to find a path to Viregate in this labyrinth of glowing crystal and predatory shadows?
She needed a sign, a guide, a direction.
