The city was no longer the same.
Castella had changed quietly, like it had been turned inside out.
The buildings were still there, but wrong. Streets twisted upward like ramps. Towers hung upside down. Rivers flowed through the sky, glowing blue like strands of glass.
Lights floated in the air, soft and sparkling like stars. But there was no sun. No heat. Only the moon, stuck in place, and a night that would not end.
Everything felt strange.
Magic filled the air, heavy and thick, like fog. Space didn't work right.
Nothing made sense, but somehow, it was still Castella. It looked like home, but it felt like a dream.
A quiet, waiting dream.
Regulus was petrified.
Broken pieces of stained glass were all around him. The moonlight above glowed through the shattered roof. The stars looked far too close. Too bright. Too perfect.
His eyes were stuck on the ceiling.
The jester puppet was still there.
