The rest of the journey passed under a sky that gradually lightened. Rain lessened. The road straightened. By late afternoon the outline of Bronson Town rose against the horizon.
The city sat low and clean, glass and steel catching the remaining light. Transport rails cut precise lines between districts. Origin barriers shimmered faintly along the outer perimeter. Everything about the place felt denser, more controlled than the areas around the academy—automated checkpoints, layered surveillance nets, energy conduits running under the streets like veins.
The transport stopped at a central hub. Logan paid the fare. The three of them stepped out into cooler air that carried the faint tang of charged metal.
"Hotel," Logan said. "Separate rooms. We meet again at dusk to plan the first sweep."
