The apartment smelled of stale coffee, ozone, and the peculiar, dry scent of dust on a motherboard. To Lyra, it was the most alien environment she had ever encountered. There was no "Source" here. No hum of the Void. No golden lattice of the Palace. The air felt heavy, thick with a gravity that didn't care about her intentions.
Lucian stood in the center of the cramped living room, his six wings of Eclipse-Fire now pressing against the popcorn ceiling. The tips of his glass feathers left scorched, black marks on the white paint. He looked monstrousa literal god of shadow trapped in a ten-by-ten studio apartment in East London.
The man at the desk the "Developer," the "Author" was frozen. His name was Toby, though his ID badge on the desk read Lead Narrative Designer: Project Genesis. He looked like any other twenty-something Londoner, wearing a faded hoodie and glasses that had slipped down the bridge of his nose.
