PROLOGUE
Asher looked up at Cyon from the last solar dome in the ruins. The mirrored panels of the power plant, battered and browned, stuck out around him like the petals of a dried flower, but it seemed to Asher that the dome held him above the ruins in its frame like a jewel. Like a king on a throne. After all, what was he here if not a king? King of the dump, emperor of the ruins.
Leaning against the damaged balustrade, Asher looked at the gray ribbon of the city wall far ahead, and beyond it, a cluster of toothpick-sharp high-rises. The towers of Cyon were still alive. The towers of Cyon were not much different from the one on top of which Asher now stood. But this sun dome was the last in the ruins, and there were more than a few of them in Cyon. In Cyon was life, and in the ruins of Asher, death reigned. And soon a new victim would be released to him. He’d have to wait until sunset, of course, but then he could go down and harvest. Asher loved days like this....
It wasn’t that Asher couldn’t survive without these sacrificial offerings from Cyon. They added variety to his everyday life, and that was even more valuable than the prey itself. From the solar-domed high-rise one could watch the journey of a new victim like a theatrical performance, and Asher had been deprived of such entertainment for a long time. However, he always knew the ending of the play in advance. The little figure’s journey through the maze of dilapidated streets always ended in the same thing: death.
Asher grinned wryly as the ground beneath his feet shook. When the gates to Cyon were opened, the ground shook. And now - now it was beginning.
