The veil noticed us the moment we stepped in.

  It was like being sized up by a dozen wolves, all hungry.

  It wasn’t just magic—it was aware.

  Which - after working in a sentient magic store, probably shouldn’t have surprised me.

  And then, I felt when it saw my name tag.

  That was worse.

  Because it didn’t strike. It hesitated.

  Like it was trying to decide whether something so ridiculous could actually be valid.

  Which, honestly, was more horrifying than if it had just eaten me.

  But I could tell they didn’t like it. Like the magic itself was offended it had to let me through.

  Which made It’s earlier comment make so much more sense.

  They would still treat you like…well, like a goblin, but they wouldn’t dare keep you out.

  I had thought he meant the people inside.

  No. He literally meant the magics guarding the portals.

  Because, of course.

  All of this happened rather quickly, as the veil itself was paper thin.

  Which I found out when I finished stepping through.

  And my jaw promptly dropped.

  —

  The burning orange of a setting sun splashed over Uptown.

  I had thought the contrast between the Human and Non-Human Quarter was jarring.

  Hah.

  The street before us spanned 50 paces across, inlaid with pristine white marble set aglow in the early evening sun, stretching forward farther than I could see.

  The road was lined with mansions.

  Each with its own courtyard and estate.

  Which would’ve been wasteful—except there were also floating islands for the wealthier homes.

  And if that wasn’t enough, the center of the street—wide enough to be a plaza in any normal place—held absolutely massive trees, evenly spaced into the distance.

  Each symmetrical.

  Each huge.

  Each with a small patch of grass and gently glowing mushrooms beneath.

  I just stood there, jaw on the floor, until It nudged me.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Let’s go, Beeg,” he monotoned.

  —-

  I shambled along beside It, still staring at the impossible world around me.

  At the elegant elves that seemed to float.

  At the disdainful humans.

  The elves seemed more curious about what we were doing there.

  The humans seemed offended.

  It brought me a kind of pleasure. Knowing that my crumpled name tag with pink lettering meant they couldn’t keep me out.

  Meant I belonged here.

  No matter how much they hated it.

  As we continued shuffling along, the sun finished setting—seeking to plunge the world into darkness.

  Which is when I found out the trees doubled as lampposts.

  Giant, glowing lamp posts, the light from beneath their canopies gently bathing the world beneath.

  Honestly? It was just obscene.

  One of those trees could probably pay for a family of goblins to eat.

  For a decade.

  “Hey, It,” I whispered.

  He stopped and looked at me.

  “Why are you whispering, Beeg?” He deadpanned me.

  “Uh…magical atmosphere?” I mumbled.

  He scoffed.

  Not like a mean scoff though. More like a “heh, I got you” scoff.

  I kind of appreciated it.

  “Don’t worry Beeg,” he continued, “You’re gonna see lotsa stuff.”

  “Who are you guys?” I asked, my voice cracking a little.

  “Same goblins we’ve always been, Beeg,” he monotoned. “Come on, let’s get this delivery finished.”

  “Isn’t it a bit late?” I asked.

  He looked at me with a quirked eyebrow.

  “Delivery instructions were to deliver at night,” he monotoned. “Uptowners think if their forbidden goods are delivered at night - no one knows.”

  He snorted.

  “As if it makes any difference.”

  Which, paired with his raised eyebrow, was probably as close to sarcasm as It would ever get.

  Right.

  I followed It down the street toward our destination.

  Even the air felt too orderly here.

  Like, there was no smell to it.

  Too clean.

  Sometime later, we turned a corner, and that’s when I saw it.

  The mansion didn’t sit on its estate.

  It floated.

  A full three stories of carved stone and glowing crystal, hovering in the air like it was above more than just the ground. Long, narrow bridges of polished glass connected it to the land, arching gently through the air like they’d been drawn with a calligraphy pen.

  There were no supports.

  Just magic.

  Arrogant, smug magic.

  Which probably meant they were middle class.

  Poor bastards couldn’t even afford a floating island, I scoffed.

  Yep. I was going crazy.

  A small circular platform waited at the edge of the estate, gently pulsing with light.

  It stepped onto it without hesitation.

  I followed.

  The platform rose, slow and smooth—like an elevator run by a butler who disapproved of me, personally.

  Because stairs, apparently, were too exhausting for the magically elite.

  At the top, we hovered before the front door.

  Enormous. Double doors. Carved in gold inlay with a mural of—was that a unicorn fencing a dragon?

  We just kind of… floated there for a moment.

  “I’m knocking,” I announced.

  It grunted.

  I raised my hand.

  And knocked. Hard.

  And then, with all the urgency of a bureaucrat on lunch break—the door began to open.