Page 220 of Gift from the Wing

“It felt otherworldly. I’m not sure how to even explain what it was like,” I say, matching his smile.

“It was ethereal as though Elementra herself was surrounding you,” he says, and an itch in the back of my mind starts up. I don’t have time to tug on it as it settles away, and he continues, “Be careful in your travels and pay keen attention to details. I want to see it all when you return.”

I laugh when he pulls me into a hug that’s full of wonder and excitement. I can’t help but hope when I’m however millennia old he is, things still get me going like they do him.

“Time to move out, little warrior. Anything we need to know?” Tillman asks as the four of them stand around me.

“No, not that I can think of,” I say, shaking my head and latching onto each of them with a tendril of my shadows.

“Let me see your hands before we go, Primary,” Caspian commands gently, and I turn them palm side up to show them.

“Has your healing increased somehow?” Corentin asks, bewildered, healing vial at the ready but not needed.

“No, it’s the mark. I use it with intentions and when those have been fulfilled, it seals itself back up,” I say as that tidbit comes forward.

To my shock, they have no follow-up questions. Actually, they seem relieved at the prospect of me not having to drink a healing vial at each stop, or that I’m going to be tearing my healed hands back up multiple times today.

I receive a nod and a smile from each of them, then the serious expressions return.

“First stop, Pyrathia,” Tillman orders and all three Nexuses get ready, with Keeper joining us, and Codi and Trex going together.

For the first two transports, everyone knows where to go, so we won’t be moving together. It’s when we move to Aquaria for the Valorian Veil portal that I’ll have to send an imprint.

Darkness closes in around me and I embrace its peace for the fleeting second before the heat of the territory slaps me in the face. Although it’s not as bad as summers in the nonmagical realm, there’s a world of difference between here and the heart of the Central.

At first glance, the landscape looks harsh and unforgiving—a span of jagged volcanic rock that seems to stretch as far as my eyes can see. But when I focus, just beyond the shifting shadows created by the towering rocks, a narrow path reveals itself.

The recon team isn’t in front of the path but spread out in front of the imposing terrain, standing silent, steady, at the ready when we pop in, although they knew we were coming. Tillman doesn’t outwardly show it, but his approval etches across my chest.

He passes his commands silently, and none of us speak with more than nods to them as we enter the tight trail.

I feel the energy of the portal already calling to me from the short distance it is away, but we take each step carefully to avoid the fallen stones and sharp rocks. This had to have been easier to maneuver and get throughwhen this portal was open, or I don’t see why any of the beings from Mystara Hollow would have wanted to make this trek.

“Shit,”Draken breathes through my mind, and I lift my eyes from watching every step I take to see what he sees.

At the end of the path, my gaze settles on what appears to be a chaotic stack of stones, deceptive in its appearance. My eyes trace the stones deliberately placed with their edges worn by time, but they still hold the power they once did.

I can feel it—the hidden pulse beneath the rocks, beckoning me forward, and I answer the call with a few more steps.

My fingers outline the worn runes that are still visible but barely. You’d easily miss them if you weren’t looking for them. They hum underneath my hand as if they know I can make them glow again.

With a deep breath, I carve the Nexus mark once again into my left palm, and my trembling hand lifts to lay against the stone. The buzz is immediate, heady, and I suck in a shocked gulp when the information assaults me.

“Closed. Has been for nine hundred and seventy-two years,”I mumble to everyone who can hear me.

Gaster’s and everyone else’s approximations are pretty spot-on. A thousand years is just easier to say, and records indicate the same. Drudy Vito was a stickler for rules and harsh punishments, but apparently, admin and accurate records weren’t a worry of hers.

I stare at my bloody handprint for the second it shows, then watch in astonishment as it fades into the stone, leaving no visible trace of me behind.

With nothing more than a confident nod to our group, we prepare to move through another transport. In and out. Silent and stealthy is how the entire mission will go until we reach the portal for Essemist Keep and prepare to track my blood.

This time, when the darkness releases us, fresh air and a cool breeze dries the sweat beading on my forehead. I take a large inhale, savoring the pure, clean air of Aeradora.

The trees stretchso high about me, I have no clue where they end and the sky begins.

It makes sense why this is where the giants would exist. There’s plenty of room between each massive tree, and there’s no overgrowth or foliage that makes the paths dense or hard to walk. It’s gaping space that the wind travels through, creating its own symphony.

If the four E.F. members standing in front of a random tree didn’t give it away, the broken bark, perfectly crackled in the shape of a rectangle, would. This particular tree is a few feet wider than the others, and the portal is shaped just like a door as if there’s a knob somewhere that we’d just turn to open.

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