They called Thales before the sun broke through the fog over Tron. The corridor was damp, cold, moisture clinging to his skin like a warning. He took a few steps, felt a bad feeling rise in his stomach and settle in his chest. It smelled like iron. The castle seemed smaller, as if the walls knew what was coming. He stopped in front of a column, closed his hand, and punched the stone hard enough to hurt his bones. The impact rose up his arm and exploded in his shoulder.

“That fucking ...