I learn that she works for the Empire Racing Board. In fact, she turned down a bunch of other jobs so she could help with the scholarship program. She’s passionate—almost too much—about the Dividian people. When she asks me personal questions, my other escorts glance back their disapproval, but she outranks them and doesn’t seem to care what they think, either.

“There it is,” she says as night falls around us. “Furia.”

A distant brilliance lights the valley. The glow dances between the bordering mountains like a lake of gold. Ayala leads us down and it’s hard not to stare at everything. Even the buildings along the outskirts tower above us. The nearest city to us—Avass—has a few high-rises and temples, but nothing like this.

It’s like the Ashlords are bridging their way to heaven.

We pass the first of several pyramids. Surrounded by glass-and-steel buildings, the temples look more like god-sized fists punched up through the earth. Great tiers of mortared stone slabs, all rising and narrowing to the flat-roofed prayer rooms in the upper temples. Stairs run up each side like rib cages. Each god’s servants flock in the shadowed interiors.

Somehow the world stops moving at an impossible speed. As we dismount, stable boys come forward to collect our horses. We stand before a dark-bricked building. It sits squarely between much larger buildings, but Ayala assures me it’s the finest and most historic hotel in the city. She says this like I might somehow be disappointed by it. And only as we stand there, waiting for a bellhop to answer the door, do I notice the people. We’re on a main drag and it looks like everyone’s gathered for a parade. Except there’s no parade. Just thousands of folks living their lives.

There are plenty of Dividian. The women wear fine business dresses. The men too-tight suits. They weave in and out of everything like this is their city, but every time an Ashlord strolls down a sidewalk, or prowls into a bar, they fade to background noise. I listen as the owner of a nearby restaurant tries to lure a passing couple in with the promise of the finest food in Furia. They smile their no to him with divine elegance.

“Come on,” Ayala says. “Your room’s ready.”