The car didn’t look special.
That was the strange part.
It was an ordinary dark-blue saloon, parked just outside the station, blending in with dozens of others. No strange markings. No glow. No sense of magic at all. If Evan hadn’t watched Ms Calder unlock it by pressing her thumb against the door and whispering something under her breath, he would have assumed it belonged to a commuter.
They drove in silence at first.
Westbridge slipped past the windows—shops, cafés, people glued to their phones, completely unaware of how close something impossible had just come to happening in their lives.
After twenty minutes, Evan couldn’t stand it anymore.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Am I in trouble?”
Ms Calder glanced at him. “No.”
“That sounded like a lie.”
She sighed softly. “You are… unexpected. That is not the same thing.”
“Unexpected how?”
“You manifested late. Very late. And not quietly.”
Evan stared out the window. “Is that bad?”
“It is,” she said honestly. “And it isn’t.”
They crossed the border into Greyhaven just after noon. Evan knew because his phone buzzed with a notification he hadn’t turned off: Welcome to Greyhaven.
Greyhaven felt different immediately.
Not darker. Not scarier.
Just… heavier.
The buildings were older, taller, built from pale stone that reflected the sky instead of absorbing it. The streets were cleaner, quieter. People moved with purpose, but not urgency, as if they all agreed on an unspoken rhythm.
“This is where the administration is based,” Ms Calder said. “Most people think it’s just another country with stricter education laws.”
“And it’s not?”
She gave him a look. “It’s where mistakes are managed.”
The car turned onto a narrow street and stopped in front of a building that looked more like a library than anything else—wide steps, tall windows, no sign above the door.
Ms Calder stepped out. “Come on.”
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