The Eastern Forest. Afternoon. Their arrival.
The tear opened without warning.
Ben felt the shift first—the lurch in his stomach, the cold rush of air, the brief moment of weightlessness before the artifact pulled them through. He had done this a dozen times. A hundred. He had lost count.
He landed hard, his knees buckling, his hand still gripping the sword at his hip. The forest was dark, the trees thick, the ground soft with fallen leaves. He scanned the clearing quickly, instinctively. No threats. Not yet.
Behind him, Tina stumbled. Her staff crackled, blue light flickering along its length before she caught herself. Her face was pale, her arm wrapped in a bloodstained bandage. The wound was fresh—from the hunters, from the last world, from the fight they had barely escaped.
Davin landed last. He was the youngest—sixteen, maybe seventeen—his face still round with youth, his eyes too old. He stumbled, caught himself, looked around. His hands were already raised, flames licking between his fingers.
"The artifact," Ben said.
Davin pulled it from his pocket—a small stone, dark and warm, pulsing faintly. He examined it, then shook his head. "Forty-eight hours. Maybe more."
Ben's jaw tightened. Forty-eight hours. Two days. They had survived longer. Barely.
"Where are we?" Tina asked.
Ben looked at the trees, the sky, the unfamiliar birds. "Another world."
He didn't say if it was safe. He didn't know.
---
The creatures found them first.
They came from the trees—gray-skinned, red-eyed, their limbs too long, their teeth too sharp. Five of them, moving fast, their claws raking the air.
Tina raised her staff. Lightning arced from its tip, blue and white, slamming into the nearest creature. It convulsed, fell, did not rise.
Davin extended his hands. Fire erupted from his palms, washing over two more. They screamed, stumbled, burned.
Ben drew his sword. He moved through the remaining creatures like smoke—fast, silent, deadly. His blade found throats, chests, eyes. They fell.
The clearing was silent.
Ben wiped his blade on a creature's hide. His hands were steady. His heart was not.
"Vorlag's creatures," Tina said. "We've seen them before."
Ben nodded. "Which means Vorlag has people in this world too."
Davin's face tightened. "Hunters?"
"Maybe. Or worse." Ben scanned the trees. "We need to move. Find somewhere to hide. Wait out the artifact."
Tina looked at her wound. The bandage was red. "I can't run far."
"Then we fight if we have to."
---
They didn't move fast enough.
The humans were hiding in the trees. Ben saw them before they saw him—seven of them, weapons drawn, faces pale. They weren't hunters. They weren't soldiers. They looked like amateurs.
But they could be working for Vorlag. Everyone in this world could be working for Vorlag.
Tina saw them too. Her staff crackled.
"Vorlag's people?" she asked.
Ben's jaw tightened. "I don't know."
One of the humans—a young woman, barely eighteen—raised her bow. The arrow flew.
It missed.
Tina's lightning did not.
The woman fell. The others ran. Ben moved. His blade found two more. Fire consumed two others. Tina struck down another. One escaped—fleeing into the trees, crashing through the undergrowth, disappearing into the darkness.
Ben didn't chase. He was tired. They were all tired.
"We need to go," Davin said. His voice was quiet, steady. He was the youngest. He was the one who kept them moving.
Ben nodded. "They'll send more. Vorlag's people won't stop."
---
They walked through the night.
The forest was dark, the path narrow, the silence heavy. Tina's wound was bleeding again. Davin supported her, his flames providing light. Ben led, his sword in his hand, his eyes on the shadows.
"They'll track us," Tina said.
Ben nodded. "They will."
"The artifact needs time."
"Then we buy time."
Davin spoke. "If they have mages—"
"They do." Ben's voice was flat. "Vorlag always has mages."
---
They set the trap at dawn.
Davin volunteered. He was the fastest, the hardest to track. His bloodline ability—teleportation—left no traces. No residue. No magic for the mages to follow.
He would lead some of them away. He would double back. He would keep them confused.
Ben didn't like it. He never liked it.
"Be careful," he said.
Davin almost smiled. "I'm always careful."
He walked into the forest alone.
---
Tina and Ben waited.
The clearing was small, hidden, surrounded by thick trees. Tina sat with her back against a fallen log, her staff across her knees, her eyes closed. She was conserving her strength.
Ben stood watch, his sword in his hand, his eyes on the darkness.
"She was our healer," Tina said quietly.
Ben didn't look at her. "I know."
"She would have known what to do. She would have known if those people worked for Vorlag."
Ben was silent for a moment. "She's not here."
Tina opened her eyes. "No. She's not."
---
The sun rose. The forest lightened.
Davin returned. His clothes were torn, his face was scratched—branches and brambles, not blades. His eyes were tired but steady.
"Two of them," he said. "I led them east. They're chasing nothing now." He paused, catching his breath. "But the others—two, maybe three—are still coming this way. They didn't follow. They're smarter. Or luckier."
Ben's jaw tightened. "How far?"
"An hour. Maybe less."
Tina stood. Her staff crackled. "Vorlag's people."
Ben nodded. "We hold. We give the artifact time."
Davin looked at the artifact in his hand. Still pulsing. Still warm. "Thirty hours. Maybe less."
"Then we hold for thirty hours."
---
They prepared.
Tina found a position with clear sightlines—her lightning could reach far. Ben took the trees, moving through the shadows, his sword ready. Davin stayed near the center, fire in his hands, ready to teleport if things went wrong.
"Remember," Ben said. "We have to survive . We just have to survive."
Tina nodded. Davin nodded.
They waited.