Noah turned the page of ice over in his hand, and the image of the young king turned with it, and beneath the face, script formed in the frost.
It gave him a place. It was nowhere near the Cluster where he had last seen the young king. Adrastia had gone far. He had crossed out of the split train entirely and sealed himself inside an Elsedimension, a pocket of reality set apart from the ordinary flow of existence.
The script named it only by its shape, a small sealed Elsedimension hung off the edge of a dying Dimension, quiet and hidden and hard to find. Adrastia was there!
Noah read it twice, and then he looked up at the woman in the frost dress.
"He did nothing wrong."
She did not answer. She stood in the air above the seated dead with her pages fluttering around her, and she waited like a person waits for a child to finish a sentence they have already decided is foolish.
