But as they turned the corner, someone or something hit a toggle on the universe. Instead of a tunnel, the pair found themselves under a vast dome, with a starscape mural on the ceiling. The walls had opened up at the top, ending twelve feet up. Where there had been slowly cracking concrete and a base-running sluice for waste, the floor was now all cobbled stone, with small plants and tufts of grass peeking out through the sandy mortar here and there. And where the walls had been rough concrete, they were now finely layered brick. The air was crisper, a subtle breeze replacing the stale, musty air of the tunnel. “The fuck?” Ree asked, turning in place. The corner behind her was gone, replaced by a solid wall. She stepped up and pushed on the stone, which was solid and cold and totally not there five seconds ago. “My word,” Drake said, turning as well. “This must be Lucretia’s doing as well.” “But how?” Ree asked, prodding at the wall. She closed her eyes and walked forward slowly, wondering if there was some kind of perception filter, like she had to shut her eyes to move through the illusion.
