The resonance of the first midnight bell was still vibrating in the marrow of their bones when Lu Cheng stopped.
The sky had shifted into that bruised, oppressive purple, and the city of Mirrorhaven had begun to breathe—a slow, rhythmic expansion and contraction of glass and light. The delay they had witnessed on the bridge was no longer a localized glitch; it was the new law of the land. Joy
"The route has shifted," Lu Cheng said, his voice as dry as old parchment. He didn't look at them, but instead stared at a blank glass wall of a skyscraper. "If you want to avoid the first wave of the midnight hunt, you cannot follow the streets. The streets now belong to the things that were reflected."
"Then where do we go?" Mu Cheng asked, his hand white-knuckled on the strap of his bag.
