Page 106 of Psycho Pack
Plague's shoulders tense as we approach the stairs. Something about his posture sets off warning bells in my head.
He knows this place.
Knows it intimately, if I'm reading him right.
The thought sends a chill down my spine despite the warm air.
"You good, Doc?" Whiskey asks, his voice pitched low. "Looking a little pale there."
Plague ignores him pointedly.
Whiskey frowns. I can tell he's as concerned for Plague as I am, beneath the usual bravado and bluster.
We descend the floating stairs in tight formation, my alphas moving with practiced precision to keep me shielded from all angles. The lake stretches out below us, its surface so still and clear it looks like polished glass. Schools of silver fish dart beneath the surface, their scales flashing like coins in the morning light.
"It's like a dream, isn't it?" Valek slurs beside me.
For once, I agree with him. Everything here has an otherworldly quality that makes me feel like I'm walking through a painting rather than a real city. Even the air seems to shimmer with magic.
The stairs end at a broad promenade that winds along the lakeshore. More gardens bloom here, but these are different from the hanging varieties above. Delicate trees with crystalline leaves cast rainbow-dappled shadows across our path. Flowers that look like they're made of spun glass chime softly in the breeze, their bell-shaped blooms releasing puffs of iridescent pollen that dance through the air like fairy lights.
A courtyard of white marble sprawls before us, delicate white spires rising up on either side. At the other end of the courtyard stands a palace that seems to defy gravity, its gleaming towers and graceful arches floating impossibly above a series of cascading pools. The water flowing down catches the light, making it look like liquid diamonds are spilling from level to level.
My bare feet barely make a sound on the pristine marble and my robe swishes around my ankles as our attendant leads us across the sprawling courtyard toward the impossible palace. The alphas' boots echo softly, the sound bouncing off the towering white spires on either side of us.
I can't shake the feeling we're being herded.
Like prey being guided into a trap.
My eyes dart around, cataloging every detail, every possible escape route. Old habits die hard. The Refinement Center taught me well—though probably not in the way they intended. Years of fighting for survival have honed my instincts to a razor's edge.
The ornate archways lining the courtyard could provide cover, but they're too exposed. The cascading pools might offer a path down to the lake, but the water's probably shallow and breaking a leg would make escape impossible. The slender, knobby trunks of the crystalline willows would be perfect for climbing, but their delicate branches would never hold my weight.
My gaze drifts up to the palace looming before us. More impossible arches and floating towers rise into the cloudless blue sky. No visible supports. No way to scale those smooth white walls. The only way in or out seems to be through the grand entrance we're approaching.
A bottleneck if I've ever seen one.
We're being funneled.
Contained.
Trapped.
Wraith's chest rumbles as if he senses my unease. His familiar leather and woodsy rain scent helps ground me, but it's not enough to silence the warning bells screaming in my head.
Are we about to have the fight of our lives?
More white-robed figures drift past us, their faces hidden behind veils and scarves that catch the light. They move with such fluid grace it's almost unsettling. Like they're floating rather than walking. Their covered faces all turn to watch us pass, and I can feel the weight of countless hidden eyes.
Judging.
Assessing.
Calculating.
Then shock flashes in their eyes and they hastily bow.
Why?