THE CROSSROADS LOUNGE is a sprawling building of hodgepodge architecture.

The main room is a large, square, two-storied warehouse, but off to the left are three open-ended shipping containers attached to the warehouse wall, each labeled with a glowing sign overhead. To the right, the roof dips low, the floor flows from tile to wood and there’s a long, shiny bar running from one end to the other. Straight across from the entrance, there’s a stage set beneath a rickety-looking loft and a second level that stretches farther back into the building.

All of those structural oddities could be seen in a regular Onceborn bar, but a regular Onceborn bar wouldn’t have shadowed corners that shift and waver, making it impossible to know exactly where the walls end. Even when I squint, I can’t quite make out the warehouse’s perimeter. What looked like a corner seems to melt before my eyes, as if distorted by the heat of an open flame.

I’ve seen Legendborn use magic to create constructs out of air, but I’ve never seen magic that could manipulate space. Some folks are huddled around tarnished silver tankards on low, sticky wooden tables with candles in the center. Other seating areas seem to be purposefully left dark; more conducive for shady business I suppose. The room smells like stale pipe smoke, desperation, and aether.

“Let’s find a place to sit,” Sel orders, his voice loud over the din.

William leans in close to shout in his ear. “I think we should blend in a little before asking around for Lucille. The sign says we seat ourselves….”

Sel responds, but I don’t hear him, because the magic of the space has saturated my senses. The layers here. Spicy. Sweet. Earthy. Sour. Bright. A heady mixture that sits on my tongue and fills my nose in a rush. A flavor so full that I gasp.

“Bree?” Alice looks at me sharply and I blink back into my group of friends.

“It’s…” My eyelids flutter, and my words comes out in a slight slur. “It’s a lot. I’m fine.”

Sel holds my eye for a long moment. “There’s a free table against a wall, with four chairs. Let’s go.” Sel points to what might be the back left corner of the building and gestures for us to follow.

A few patrons look at us as we pass, but at first glance, no one appears to be anything other than human. But the last time I saw this many Black and brown people I was on a ritual plane between life and death, and I was staring at my own family members. I breathe a sigh of something like relief. For once, I’m someplace where I’m more at home than the Legendborn are. A world of magic users who look like me, even if we aren’t exactly the same.