Despite our skepticism, a five-minute drive down the nearly-packed streets of Golden City found us at the Golden City Penitentiary. The Warden, Richard Garcia, a portly middle-aged man with a goatee, met us at the entrance and led us directly to the Necromantress’ cell, which was located deep within the prison. We passed by many occupied cells on our way down, including more than a few prisoners I recognized. There was ZZZ, wearing a weird-looking metal collar, lying on his cot and glaring at us. We also passed Three Fingers, who was sitting on his own bed reading the Bible. He didn’t look up when we passed, but I sensed that he was aware of us anyway.
Like everywhere in Golden City, the air in the prison was tense. And not just because it happened to be home to Golden City’s most danger
