Isobel startled awake. The fire in the hearth had burned down to glowing embers, and all was quiet in the room except for Grimalkin purring on a sleeping Elder Bardo's lap. She stumbled to her feet, tripping over her empty mug which had fallen to the floor. Picking it up, she placed it upon a nearby table, and motioned for Ash to follow.
The buttery light of a lantern shone on shelves of thick hardbound books and stuffed animals, mostly rabbits, covered in dust. She carefully opened the creaky old door, and slipped through, followed by Ash, leaving Bardo and his pet rabbit to sleep.
She squinted at the old clock above the grand staircase to the main concourse lobby and groaned. The time was four thirty in the morning.
Bardo had entranced her with stories of the Pythean territories before the great storms, weaving tales of fierce, mystic warriors and the battles they'd fought against the tunnel rats. She couldn't remember the last mug of brew Bardo had poured for her, but it had sent her straight to sleep.
The ground rumbled as lightning ripped across the sky, illuminating the vacant interior of the main concourse. The residents had already left for the tunnels. She exited the station and the distant, frantic activity over the central district immediately caught her attention.
The draft had begun.
Emergent, Book One : Isobel Page 16
