The Cobalt Express slowed, its iron wheels screeching in protest as the steam brakes engaged.
Revas pulled the heavy velvet curtain aside, squinting against the assault of morning light.
"It's... shiny," he observed, sounding personally offended.
Mirabelle leaned over him to look out the window. Her breath hitched.
Oakhaven, the capital of the Cobalt Kingdom, was not a city built of stone and mortar. It was a city of crystal and steel. The entire metropolis was encased in a series of colossal, interlocking glass domes that protected it from the harsh winds of the eastern steppes. Inside the domes, it was a perpetual, manicured summer.
White marble towers spiraled upward, connected by translucent sky-bridges. Hanging gardens draped from every balcony, a riot of purple and gold flowers. It looked pristine, fragile, and breathtakingly expensive.
"The City of Glass," Mirabelle whispered. "I haven't seen it in years."
