I haven't felt like myself in two years. But the nearer I get to the city, the more myself I feel. And the gates are rising through the fog now, and the tug at my soul feels almost physical. Reel me in. Bring me home.
Marcus doesn't know. He would have been fine living his whole life away. But I was born here, and I suppose I'll die here. Shayara is home for all of us, but for me more even than most, it's capital-H Home, and I am half in love with it.
And almost on cue, I see a motorcycle pull to a halt just inside the gates, feel a quick brush against my mind, a quick ID. Not Seth. Quint. But if Quint knows I'm here, Seth won't be far behind; he'll know by the time I cross the border.
Gods, I'm not ready for this.