The Mountains. Dawn.
They rode out as the sun cleared the peaks.
The company was small—Grog, Lira, Mirena, William, Ken. Five riders on tired horses, their breath misting in the cold air, their eyes on the trail ahead. Behind them, the palace disappeared into the morning mist. Ahead, the mountains waited.
Mirena led the way, her staff in her hand, the stone pulsing in her pocket. She had been tracking the portal for weeks, following the residue, mapping its movements. Now she was close. She could feel it.
"The trail is fresh," she said. "Hours, not days."
Grog rode beside her, his hand on his sword. "How far?"
"Ahead. In the peaks."
Lira scanned the trees, the shadows, the places where something could hide. "It's too quiet."
Grog felt it too. The same wrongness he had felt in the Grove, in the pass, in the clearing where the beast had died. The air was thin, cold, pressing against his skin.
"We keep moving," he said. "Stay together."
---
The trail led them deeper into the mountains.
The terrain was brutal—steep slopes, loose rock, narrow passes that wound between peaks still capped with snow. The horses struggled, their breath coming in great gasps, their hooves slipping on the loose stone.
William rode beside Ken, his eyes on the young man's face. "You've been here before."
Ken didn't look at him. "I have."
"How many times?"
Ken was quiet for a moment. "Enough."
William waited. Ken didn't elaborate.
"You don't talk much," William said.
Ken glanced at him. "Neither do you."
William almost smiled. Almost. "I'm learning."
---
They found the first sign at midday.
A tree, split in half, its trunk blackened, its branches bare. The ground around it was scorched, the grass dead, the earth cracked. Mirena dismounted, knelt beside it, touched the bark.
"The portal was here," she said. "Recently. Hours ago."
Grog scanned the trees. "Where did it go?"
Mirena pointed deeper into the peaks. "That way."
Lira moved to the edge of the clearing, her bow in her hand, her eyes on the shadows. "We're being watched."
Grog's hand tightened on his sword. "How many?"
Lira shook her head. "I don't know. But they're there."
Ken dismounted, moved to stand beside her. His hand was on his sword, his eyes on the trees. "Creatures?"
Lira shook her head. "Not creatures. Something else."
---
The attack came from above.
Not creatures—rocks. Loose stones, dislodged from the cliffs above, tumbling down the slope toward them. The horses reared, screamed, scattered. William was thrown from his saddle, hit the ground hard, rolled.
Grog was on his feet, his sword in his hand, his eyes on the cliffs. "Ambush!"
Ken was already moving, his bow in his hand, an arrow nocked. He scanned the cliffs, looking for the source of the rocks. "There!"
A shape, high on the ridge, disappearing behind a boulder. Human-shaped. Fast.
Ken loosed an arrow. It struck the rock, splintered, fell. The shape was gone.
Lira raised her bow, scanning the cliffs. "It's gone."
Grog helped William to his feet. "What was it?"
Ken shook his head. "I don't know. But it wasn't a creature."
Mirena moved to the base of the cliff, looking for tracks. She found them—boot prints, fresh, leading up the slope.
"Human," she said. "Armed. Watching us."
Grog looked at the peaks above. "The portal?"
Mirena shook her head. "The portal is ahead. This was something else."
---
They pushed on.
The trail grew steeper, the air thinner, the cold more biting. The horses were tired, their breath ragged, their steps hesitant. Grog left his horse with William, continued on foot. Ken followed. Lira followed. Mirena followed.
The peaks loomed above them, dark and cold, their slopes covered in snow and shadow.
Mirena stopped. "The residue is strong here. The portal was here. Recently."
Grog scanned the cliffs. "Where is it now?"
Mirena pointed ahead. "Through that pass."
---
The pass was narrow, the walls steep, the shadows deep. Grog moved first, his sword in his hand, his eyes on the walls above. Ken followed, his bow drawn, an arrow nocked. Lira brought up the rear, her eyes on the ground, watching for tracks.
The pass opened into a clearing.
The clearing was large, circular, the trees pushed back as if by a great wind. The ground was scorched, blackened, cracked. The air was thick, heavy, wrong.
Mirena walked to the center, her staff in her hand, the stone pulsing in her pocket. "The portal was here. Not long ago. Hours, maybe."
Grog moved to stand beside her. "Where is it now?"
Mirena shook her head. "Gone. Moved again."
Lira scanned the trees. "We're too late."
Ken moved to the edge of the clearing, his eyes on the shadows. "Not too late. Just behind."
Grog looked at him. "What do you mean?"
Ken met his eyes. "The portal is moving. But it's not moving randomly. It's going somewhere. We need to find out where."
---
They made camp at the edge of the clearing.
The fire was small, the watches were set, the horses were tethered. Grog took first watch, his sword across his knees, his eyes on the darkness.
Lira sat beside him. "You're thinking."
"Always."
She was quiet for a moment. "What if we don't find it? The portal."
Grog looked at her. "We'll find it."
"How do you know?"
He was quiet for a moment. "Because we have to."
---
In the night, something moved at the edge of the camp.
Ken saw it—just a shape, just a shadow, gone before he could raise his bow. He sat perfectly still, his eyes on the darkness, his hand on his sword.
It didn't come back.
But he felt it watching. Waiting.
He didn't sleep.