Arrival at the Underworld Clinic
Han and his maids stood in a neat line outside the Underworld Clinic. The lantern above the door threw a soft ring of light that stopped just short of their boots.
Han wore a tailored suit under a black robe that fell clean from shoulder to heel. The collar and cuffs sat crisp.
His maids matched him in black. Sleeves were fitted and belts were tight at the waist. Boots shone to a dark gloss.
Hair was pinned without a stray strand. Gloved hands rested at their sides.
Denver arrived at the head of a small procession. The carriages came in a line like a train, each box lacquered black and banded with quiet gold.
Corners carried small sigils that glowed like banked coals. Windows were deep glass that held the street's light and gave nothing back.
Steps folded out with a hush when each carriage stopped. The harness was worked silver that caught the lantern's rim.
