Chapter from Outcast – Book Two of The Perspective Trilogy
After several years of exile, Julian Issumatar returns to the Great City called Lockroy based in the Antarctic Peninsula.
The white salt crunched under his boots as he paced across the steel deck. The wide barge tipped on the verge of another turbulent wave and he staggered briefly from the force of the frozen ocean. The water splashed upwards and he cursed as the bitter water sliced against his bare cheek.
Julian pulled his heavy coat around his chilled neck and gripped the side of the ship to balance himself. He pulled his dazed gaze away from the white and black frothing sea and looked out at the looming land.
A solitary beacon of light blazed through the smog and fog that filled the endless skyline. The Great Lighthouse, which had its deep foundations carved into the ice and its structure was crafted with tall columns of pale marble and walls of thick glass, revealed the Edge. It was the most northern point of the great city where the majority of tourists and temporary civilians gained entrance. This section of land was previously known as the South Shetland Islands before it became renovated during the city’s influx and turned it into the district called the Edge.
Julian anxious eyes glared beyond the lighthouse and spotted the sea pillars. As the barge grew closer and shook violently against the crusted waves, he spotted the thick lines of grime and barnacles that had nested around the dark towers of metal that were dotted throughout the sea. Alongside them were deep scratches and burn marks from half a century of ships trying to gain passage to the great city. As the waves dipped down, he spotted the dreaded hatches that he’d seen launch into action last time he had left the city. Spiked sea-mines could instantly emerge and destroy a vessel in seconds and the surging sea would swiftly swallow it whole.
Julian sighed in relief as the pillars deactivated and allowed them safe passage to the pedestrian port at the Edge.
Industrial smoking towers, dark shambles of buildings, towering pale mansions and vibrant neon lights were dotted along the coast of the Antarctic Peninsula. Their distinct contrasting architecture revealed the various other districts that formed the industrious and charismatic great city.
Lockroy defiled the white icy landscape with its dark productive presence.
It was certainly not good to be home.