The archway shadows us for only a few seconds, and then we’re in the market square. Except it’s not a square—it’s a massive stretch of cobblestone road that spirals around a hill, lined on both sides with wooden stalls decorated in gloriously colorful fabric and bursting with crafted wares.

There are paintings and sculptures and intricate tea sets. Other stalls boast beautifully designed knives and decorative swords. The smell of candles and soap and potpourri floods my senses. And the clothes—the gowns. Varying in every shade of color imaginable, some flicker like metal, others flow like silk. Each shape is different from the next, with points and cutouts and tulle and so many crystals I’m sure some are more suitable as armor than a ballgown. They are vintage and modern and futuristic all at once, like they weren’t just meant to be worn—they were meant to inspire.

And it would be so easy to become lost in the beauty of what’s been created in Infinity if it weren’t for the people.

Because behind every market stall is someone who I’m sure once lived as a human but stands now with a strange serenity plastered on their face, wearing a silver armlet set with a colorful stone. Their eyes are vacant. Hollow. Like they’re missing the very essence that once made them human.

They wear the mask of someone who doesn’t know they’re a prisoner. And all around them are the beings they now serve.

I knew there was something odd about the Residents when I first saw them. Something too perfect about their faces. But here, next to the humans, the difference is startling.

The Residents are polished to absolute perfection. Their skin ranges from alabaster to warm olive to dark, rich brown, and everything in between, but turned up to a full volume that can be described only as luminescent. Their irises are flecked with an unnatural sparkle, and there’s a pearl-like sheen to their cheeks. Everything about them is studied and methodical—the length of their eyelashes, the artistry of their makeup, the vibrancy of their hair, the unique structure to their tailored suits and gowns. And they move like royalty—poised and powerful.

I shudder. Humans look like corpses in comparison. The Residents may be the villains, but their beauty is undeniable. Captivating and terrifying all at once.

I can hardly take my eyes off them.

Something pinches the back of my arm and I turn too quickly, seeing the twist of Shura’s mouth.

I’m lingering.

I let my eyes drift to the street, focusing on the cobblestones instead of the unfathomable beauty around me, but it only amplifies the voices nearby.