Snake Island looked less welcoming from the air.
Dean had studied photographs, elevation maps, satellite images, and drone captures until he could recognize the island's western ridge without labels, but none of them had conveyed how abruptly the land rose from the sea.
Dark limestone cliffs cut straight into steel-blue water. Dense forest covered most of the interior, broken by pale scars of exposed rock and narrow roads that twisted between the mountains rather than crossing them directly. The main settlement clung to the northeastern coast around a sheltered harbor, its white and grey buildings compressed between the sea and the first steep incline.
Arion stood beside Dean as their aircraft descended.
"No walls necessary," Dean murmured.
Arion understood immediately.
The island itself was the wall.
