The city came alive with a quiet rhythm, even as the sun never rose even once over the glass dome roof top. Amber light streamed through dirty windows, pouring onto wet streets glistening with layers of melted chocolate rainfall from the night before.
The air was thick, near-syrupy, and filled with a smell that was both burnt cocoa and a metallic twinge.
Nia pushed her hands against the windowpane of her quarters, observing as the city breathed around her. Every building sparkled as if fashioned out of melted sugar that hung suspended mid-drop. Fountains composed of liquid caramel twisted upwards, curving obligingly as they splashed into pits excavated out of sugar blooms. Persons wandered by in silence, their pace measured, their chins held low, chocolate smudges tracing their gloved wrists and hemlines. It was a lovely scene, but a creeping sense of discomfort brewed within Nia, a shadow tracing up and down the ridges of her spine.
Aya joined her at the window, notebook pressed tightly to her chest. "It's so still around here," Aya whispered, "even the breeze doesn't appear to move."
Nia didn't respond.
She was busy observing the minute details: the meticulous polish on the streetlights, the vibrations humming through the floorboards, the pulsations resonating just beneath the cobblestones.
They hardly had a chance to stand there before a soft knock was heard at the door. The attendants were never unpunctual. Two of them, wearing cream-colored uniforms with brass buttons, entered with a motion as smooth as syrup.
"Your morning awaits, honored guests," one of the voices spoke, low and melodic. "Please follow."
They walked through passageways that curved in ways that seemed, well, impossible, the walls shimmering with lighted golden haloes. Each step reverberated with a muffled echo, even as the floorboards were flawless. As they emerged into the open, the children saw that Sugar Square lay before them—a massive square filled with chocolate squares so polished they reflected the artificial light of the pale sky.
The air was filled with the smell of sugar, but the streets held an undertone that made Nia feel uncomfortable. The vibration of mechanical humming could be felt through the cobblestone streets, a far-off, pulsing beat that was like a heartbeat.
A fountain made of spun sugar towered over the square. The sculptures featured a female figure, arms outstretched, wearing flowing robes made of sugar. She smiled, a frozen smile, and melted coats of chocolate ran down her fingers, pouring into a basin that simmered steam even in the chill air. Children pressed their faces against the fountain, sampling a cooled drop or two that fell through the night. But Nia didn't.
The children were directed out of the square and into the Mint Quarter, where peppermint streams flowed through streets flanked by candy shops and chocolate stalls. There, the citizens marched in well-rehearsed patterns, gliding past each other quietly. Their eyes, Nia saw, were a deep brown, bordering on black, with an otherworldly gloss, as if melted chocolate lay hidden, imprisoned beneath glass. Nobody spoke louder than a-whisper. When a vendor handed out a bite of chocolate bark, they didn't even wait to be paid. They just handed out the treat, then melted away into the press of the crowd.
Aya shivered. "It's as if everyone is watching us," she said, scanning the crowded room.
"I think they are," Tomas muttered, putting his hands deep into his pockets. "But not necessarily in a normal way. It's. .. calculated."
"It's just proper observation," Felix dismissed, as he always did. He kept his head held high, a small smile spreading across his face. "We're exceptional, after all."
The twins giggled behind him, talking to each other quietly. Nia didn't let their reactions bother her, preferring to keep her attention fixed on the minute anomalies—a fleeting shadow that shifted with an unnatural quickness, a humming motion beneath her feet, like the night the invitation cards arrived.
The group was directed next into the Nougat Line, an area filled with factories that dispensed heavy clouds of chocolate steam into the air via their chimneys. The steam curved languidly upwards, infused with enticing but bizarre smells: nutmeg, bitter chocolate, burnt sugar.
The sidewalks now were narrower, the buildings taller, their facades etched with twining sculptures of cocoa pods and candy blossoms.
"That's where the dreams are made," said the head attendant, sweeping a hand toward those buildings. "All the chocolates you've tasted, all the flavors you remember, they developed in those buildings."
Nia's eyes shifted down to the street beneath her feet. She could just see the faint grid of pipes running beneath the cobblestones, pulsing with a soft light. She was sure something living ran through the pipes, something far older than sugar or caramel.
Vellum led the procession, his black coat sweeping against the steam. "Note this, if you will," he said, "and remember: all you see, all you taste, is something other than what appears. The city is a treat, yes, but a maze as well. Not all routes are safe, mind you."
Felix stood up straight. "I suppose there must be rules," he said. "Some sort of
The amber gleam was fierce in Vellum's eyes. "Indeed," he repeated. "The first rule is simple: Don't touch what hasn't been given to you. Nothing in this city exists by accident, so interference is … unwise."
Aya's lips pressed tightly together. "Even in the factories?"
Vellum tipped his head ever so slightly. "Even in the factories."
Tomas frowned. "What if a person violates this rule?"
The smile did not extend to his eyes. "Curiosity is a good quality, young man. However, some lessons are only learned through… consequence."
The children marched through the streets, past shops filled with spun sugar, chocolate brick towers, and candy vendors so quiet that the only motion was the gloved hands moving as they handled their wares.
On the border of the Nougat Line, they caught a glimpse of this – a street completely walled in, darker than the rest, with a chocolate sidewalk that looked almost black by comparison. The attendants stopped dead in their tracks. Even Vellum's posture jerked to a momentary halt.
"What is that?" Lina whispered.
Vellum indicated a gilded archway standingbehindthem, smoothly changing their course. "A district best left unseen," he remarked cheerfully. "In every city, corners exist where shadows reside. Let your attention remain fixedupon the wonders, my guests."
However, her gaze remained fixed on the black street. She could feel its beat, a low, vibrating pulse that seemed to be alive, a rhythm like that which she had first detected beneath the train.
Aya reached out and touched her arm. "Do you feel it, too?"
Nia nodded, but she didn't answer. Something lurked out there, beyond the walls. And she was already starting to feel that their tour of Vellum City was going to plunge them directly into it.