Preorders open for “On a Red Station, Drifting”
…t was its own self, the vast, dark presence that seemed to fold the air around itself, wrapped around the contraption in the centre of the room that might have been a throne, that might have been a tree with too many thorns; metal, twisting and buckling like a fish caught on land, its shifting reflections hurting her eyes… “Welcome home, child,” a voice said, filling her ears to bursting. “Great-great-grandmother.” She forced herself to get the wo…