THE COVERT ENTRYThe iron grate was slick with green slime and age. It took three of us—Jax, Silas, and me—to heave it upward. It didn't groan; it shrieked. I held my breath, waiting for a guard to shout or a bell to ring, but the only sound was the distant, muffled thud of the fires burning in the city above.

"God, the smell," Silas whispered, pulling his collar over his nose. "I’ve smelled dead things in the woods that were sweeter than this."

"It’s the smell of a city that’s rotting ...