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Tanya turned to face him. “No keys or jewelry. Cover up any conduit tattoos.” She eyed him from head to toe, red lips fluttering with a smile. “I think you know the rules.”

Roman shed his brown leather jacket and hung it on a hook by the door. The incessant buzzing of his phone in the right pocket faded away as he focused, blood thrumming in his veins, magic clawing at his skin. It was probably another of the endless calls from the other Shadowmasters or houses in the city, nobody willing to leave him alone long enough for him to catch his breath. If he was really unlucky, the person calling was his father, who would give him an earful as soon as he left the chamber. Sometimes, Roman wasn’t sure which would be the death of him first: his father or this city.

“If you need anything, use the intercom,” Tanya said before taking her leave. She knew better than to linger.

Roman removed his jewelry—bracelet, rings, the single chain glinting in the hollow of his throat—and placed it on the shelf. His phone was still buzzing. Another call, maybe. Or several text messages coming through without any space between them.

He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. As he stepped through the spells cloaking the doorway, his Surge began to back off. Nearly twelve months of this, and it was finally getting the hint.

He closed his eyes, held his arms out at his sides, and fell forward into the chamber, the zero gravity turning him boneless, sending him tumbling head over feet. It felt like floating in a pool, but without the feel of water on his skin.

The door slid shut, sealing off every trace of the light in the hallway, leaving him bathing in a buoyant darkness that was infinite. The feeling was soon tripled by his magic vacating his system, the barrage of power that his body—his magic’s vessel—could barely contain on a good day lighting up the chamber with galaxies.

Tiny pinpricks of silver light that were like stars; hazy spirals and different colored orbs; cosmic dust and constellations. All floating within reach.

This was his quiet time. His place of refuge.

His own galaxy.