The number Noa Genesis gave me that night meant nothing to me on its own — a ratio, a rate, a comparison between two spans of time that shouldn't have been comparable at all. It took explaining twice before the shape of it settled where I could actually feel its weight.
"Say it as time instead of distance," I told it, sitting on the edge of my bed in the dark with the castle asleep around me and no intention of joining it. "How long, at this rate, before it reaches the boundary itself?"
