Page 13 of The Amber Sunburst

But also stairs.

“No,” he whines.

And with that he realizes he has grown far too comfortable with Bios. He only just met him and he’s already acting like his usual, childish, obnoxious self.

It’s just that Bios reminds him painfully of his father—humor sharp as a blade and a million-watt smile if you can earn it. God, he misses his father.

“It’s worth it to be up here. Just turn around and you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

Alexander pushes himself up and turns and⁠—

“Whoa.”

The rest of the city was too packed with buildings and trees to see anything beyond the street he was on, but the last few hundred stairs just wind up a sheer cliff. And from here, at the top, with nothing in the way...

The whole city. He can see the separation of the Arcs because the air is so clear. The sun setting behind him lights the twisting stairs right through the middle, a heavenly orange, gentle even on his eyes, still raw from the salt water. The ocean flanks the city, and grass and trees go on to the horizon.

He’s never seen anything so wonderful.

And, suddenly, all he wants to do is go home. But he wants home to look like this.

He wants his brother to see the view. He wants to push his brother down the stairs.

He wants his father to be here. He wants his father to rest in peace.

“Alexander?” Bios says, gently, from behind him.

Alexander bites his lip hard to bring himself back to the present, and looks over his shoulder.

“It’s overwhelming, huh?” Bios continues. “When I got here I swore I’d never seen anything more beautiful.”

“I don’t think I have either.”

“You will,” he assures Alexander, tone indecipherable.

Alexander doesn’t have time to analyze it. He stops focusing on Bios when he realizes what’s behind him. A tall hedge opens in an arch, revealing a green field that’s not exactly beautiful, but perfectly maintained. He thinks briefly about Bios’ commitment to order.

A marble pathway cuts through the lawn, leading to a building like nothing Alexander has ever seen. At least not in person.

It’s incredible—an intimidating, Acropolis-like structure, backlit by the orange sun. Probably a spin on classically Ancient Greek architecture, with three distinct sides forming a triangle and a small glass pyramid at the top where the roofs meet.

The columns across the front side are covered in the curling branches of orange trees, somehow forced to grow coiling around them.

“It’s huge, I know. The Academy doesn’t do things in half measures,” Bios says, leading him through the monstrous hedge. Expansive grounds on either side of the building come into view with droves of people in matching uniforms—some early teens, some late twenties, most in between—inhabiting various meeting spaces or sitting in the grass.

Outdoor amphitheaters and exercise spaces are dotted throughout the lawn where students sit in lectures and discussion circles, or do an assortment of physical activities. A few groups meander around the lawn or sit with friends, but the conversations he overhears are philosophical debates more than chitchatting.

There are no games or play-fights or laughter like you’d expect from students this age. Just order.

It’s his brother’s wet dream. He’s always loved structure.

It’s Alexander’s worst nightmare. He’s always hated it.

He and Bios get the same reaction from every student they pass: a glance, a look of surprise, and a forced dismissal before they lower their voices and return to their discussions. Bios did mention people as old as him don’t get pulled up often, so that might be why he’s being gawked at, but he also knows that he looks a mess. To be fair, he’s climbed an infinite number of stairs and, let’s not forget, been in a shipwreck today.

He’s really never going to get over that.

Bios reactivates his ring-screen thing, this time keeping it on his hand, and types out another message as they approach the building. It’s even taller up close, with a pleasant scent of orange blossom wafting around it.