The sunlight pouring through the windows was a liar. It painted lazy galaxies of dust in the air, suggesting a peace that felt like a distant memory. An unnatural stillness had settled in my bones, a hollow echo of the chaos from the last few days. From Cassius’s room, the low thrum of his voice was a thread tangled with Amelia’s softer tones. I folded my arms, my gaze fixed on the world outside—a world that continued on, oblivious. A soft breeze made the branches whisper, and a lone squirrel, a flicker of unburdened life, darted up a trunk and was swallowed by the leaves.

The whispers ceased. I turned as they appeared in the doorway, their presence shifting the atmosphere in the room. Cassius was a figure carved from shadow, cloaked in black from head to toe—new boots, dark trousers, and the heavy cloak we had just received. He was no longer the man I’d met, but a warrior preparing for a war I couldn’t yet see. Amelia followed, her face a mask of somber resolve. The silence they brought with them was a physical weight, thick with the things they hadn’t said to me.

Finally, Amelia’s gaze found mine. She reached into her pocket and produced a small satchel of finely-wrought leather, still warm from her touch. “Something for the road,” she said, her voice gentle as she pressed it into my hand. The leather was supple, the stitching perfect. “A dimensional space. It has provisions, coin—everything you might need.”

A warmth that had nothing to do with the sun bloomed in my chest. “Thank you, Amelia.” I looped the satchel onto my belt, tugging the knot tight. Our eyes met. “I wish you were coming with us.”

“As do I,” she confessed, a flicker of sorrow in her smile. “But my place is here. Someone has to watch what is happening at the palace.”

“I know,” I said, and the appreciation was a dull ache in my throat. “And I’m grateful for it.”

She gave a slight nod. “On that note…” She opened her palm. Resting in its center was a sphere of smooth, cool crystal that seemed to pulse with a faint inner light. It wasn’t glass, but something warmer, alive.

“What is it?” I asked, leaning closer.

“A whisper across worlds,” she answered. “Should the worst happen, I can reach you through this. It will be your tether to me. Then you can teleport back here.”

The relief was so profound it felt like I could breathe again. “That’s… ingenious,” I managed. “It helps, knowing we’re not completely severed from you.”

A genuine, soft smile finally touched her lips. “That is all I can ask for.” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. I clung to her, inhaling the faint, comforting scent of her light floral perfume that was uniquely Amelia.

“Be safe,” she murmured into my ear, her hug firm, final. “Expect the unexpected. Always.”

“You too,” I whispered back, my own voice thick.

We pulled apart. With one last, fleeting smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, she turned. “I’ll give you two a moment.” Her gaze flickered to Cassius. “Goodbye.”

The click of the closing door sealed us in silence.

I let out a long breath and sank into my chair. “So,” I began, my voice quiet in the suddenly vast room. “What was the real conversation about?”

Cassius lowered himself into the opposite chair with a deliberate, almost weary grace. He paused, choosing his words. “The journey. She asked me to protect you.”

I searched his face. His expression was a carefully constructed wall, his eyes shuttered. “That sounds like her,” I conceded. “But you were talking for a long time. There was more.”

His gaze fell to the floor, then rose to meet mine. His eyes, usually so clear, were clouded with an apology he couldn’t speak. “I’m sorry, Thalia. I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

A sigh escaped me. “Fine,” I said, leaning my head back against the cushion. “I won’t press you.” The silence stretched, and my mind began to race, charting a dozen different disastrous paths.

“What is it?” Cassius’s voice cut through the noise in my head. “You look worried.”

My attention snapped back to him. “I am,” I admitted, sitting straighter. “I’m worried about the teleportation. After what happened… the memory is a raw nerve. I can’t make a mistake like that again. I can’t land us in the jaws of something worse.”

He leaned forward, his focus absolute. “You won’t,” he said, his voice laced with unshakeable conviction. “That was a momentary lapse. This time will be different. You are different. Trust your instincts. Clear your mind, see the destination, and you will take us precisely where we need to go.”

His certainty was a balm on my frayed nerves. I took a slow breath. “I trust you,” I said, my voice steadier. “But is there anything else I should know? Magically?”

“For our kind, magic is intent,” he explained. “Humans need their rituals, their memorized words. We simply need to will it. Imagine the result with perfect clarity. Like the blade of mana you formed.”

The image of the assassin, the slick sound of the blade piercing his flesh, sent a wave of nausea through me. My gaze dropped to the heavy tome on the table between us. Pillard Forest. Amelia’s words echoed in my mind, urging me to read it.

I looked up at Cassius’s patient face. “I know we need to leave. But would you mind if I…?”

“Take your time,” he said, rising. “I’ll be in my room. Come for me when you’re ready.”

He left, and I was alone with the quiet and the heavy book. I slid it closer, its stiff cover groaning in protest. The first page I turned to held a chillingly precise ink illustration of a “Silent Scourge.” The text described a skeletal horror with unnervingly long, scythe-like claws. Though deaf, it could sense the faintest whisper of mana, possessed blinding speed, and had vision that far surpassed any mortal’s.

I flipped past more monstrous creatures, my stomach twisting, until a new heading stopped me: The Ancient Ruins. The writing within, it said, was in a language lost to time, decipherable by only a handful of scholars.

“Legend holds that great secrets are protected within the ruins,” I read aloud, my voice a bare murmur, “but as entry has proven impossible, this remains purely hypothetical.” Secrets meant to stay buried.

Sighing, I closed the book. I rested my head against the back of the chair and closed my eyes, overwhelmed. The only sounds were my own breathing and the steady, rhythmic pacing from Cassius’s room. After a long moment, I sat up, resolve hardening in my spine. I grabbed the book one last time, flipping to the weathered page on Eldorain and burning the details into my memory.

“Okay,” I murmured to the empty room. “Ready.”

I rose, took the new cloak from my bed, and swung it over my shoulders. Then, I walked to Cassius’s door and knocked. The pacing stopped. The door swung open. He stood there, slightly breathless, his sword drawn and gleaming. His eyes met mine, and with a fluid motion, he slid the blade back into the sheath at his hip.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low.

“I am,” I confirmed. “Are you?”

“Yes. Come in.”

We met in the center of his room, the space between us crackling with potential energy. He studied my face for a moment before holding out his hand. “May I?” he asked. His voice was the calm in my storm.

I nodded, my own hand trembling as I placed it in his. His grip was firm, an anchor.

“You can do this, Thalia,” he murmured.

Closing my eyes, I poured every ounce of my focus into the destination. I built the image from the book in my mind: a vibrant meadow, a sea of wildflowers so vivid I could smell their honeyed perfume. I saw the brilliant azure sky, the lush, ancient trees at the horizon. I drew on my mana, and it answered my call, surging from my core like a river of starlight. It tore a fracture in the reality before us, a shimmering, iridescent portal that hummed with the promise of a different world. My heart hammered against my ribs. Please, let this be right.

He gave my hand a confident squeeze. Together, we stepped through.

It was not a gentle arrival, but a brutal severance. The familiar air was violently ripped away, replaced by a suffocating blackness that leeched the warmth from my skin. The air was thick with the scent of forgotten things, of damp stone, deep earth, and decay. This wasn’t darkness; it was a living void, pressing in, smothering.

No. I was focused. It’s daytime there. This isn’t Eldorain.

The hope I had so carefully nurtured shattered into a million icy fragments. My stomach didn’t just drop; it plummeted into the abyss that now surrounded us. Something had twisted, misaligned.