Page 30 of The Shadowed Oracle
She zeroed in on a few of the odd relics, but quickly got distracted by some other eye-catching oddity, gazing around aimlessly. The sheer size of the place begged to be explored, and she did so with her hands tucked awkwardly at her sides.
It was a fortress, she thought, that was the only word that came to mind. It wasn’t a bunker. It wasn’t some doomsdayshelter. It was a war-ready fortress. Further in, Ingrid counted at least three hatches leading somewhere deeper underground, and a quick peek at the ceiling revealed more metal fortifications.
“I’d be impressed,” she said, her chin pointed up at a ninety-degree angle. “If I wasn’t just, you know, teleported through an elevator earlier today.”
She doubted things from this other world were deterred by metal walls.
Dean swiveled his head, bottom lip curling in. “Yeah, they do that sometimes. But they can’t do ithere.” He tapped his finger against the metallic wall. “All this iron is from that other world. Totally monster-proof.”
Ingrid took a closer look, unable to discern any difference in the material. She started to ask Dean about it, but noticed he was already moving on to one of the larger filing cabinets. He braced himself against it with a wide stance, putting his entire weight behind the push. Grunting, rearranging himself, then practically screaming in effort to uncover yet another door behind it.
“Hah! Got it!” Dean looked up at her, dusting off his hands and shirt.
Ingrid wasn’t impressed. “After you,” she said flatly.
With slumped posture, Dean scuffled to the door and began the two-step procedure to unlock it. Physical keys first, then a code entered into the electronic number pad. He opened the door and she inched through the threshold.
The room beyond was perplexingly large considering the architecture of the house. The staircase to the subterranean level had been steep, but the ceiling of this secret room had to have measured much longer. It was vaulted, made of stone, but uneven, like someone chipped away at it from underground until they reached the forest grass above.
Ingrid squinted, trying to make sense of it.
In the centermost point of the ceiling, in the very back, was an archaic symbol painted in black, not unlike the ones she’d seen in the crime scene photographs. And directly underneath it, adorned with those shining viseer stones and even more symbols, was a cage.
A metal prison, large enough for a grizzly bear.
Large enough, Ingrid thought frightfully, for a human.
“Probably should’ve warned you about that,” Dean muttered. “Don’t worry. It’s not for you.”
Ingrid stared uneasily at the homemade jail cell—at the rust that had accrued on the bars, the dying vegetation that had sprouted up between the concrete cracks outside of it. Then with a quick shuffle, she pressed her back against the wall, watching Dean carefully.
He walked to the opposite side of the room, not noticing her unease, and sat at what appeared to be a control panel desk consisting of thirty-year-old boxy computers, multiple keyboards, monitors and plated boards full of mysterious toggles, switches, levers, and wires connecting to the back of the platform of the jail cell.
“My mom didn’t want anything following her back,” Dean said. “That’s what the cage was for. She and Karis figured out how to make a portal to Ealis. They set up a trap in case one of them ever tailed her back here.”
Ingrid had many questions, a feeling she was getting used to, but started with, “Ealis?”
“The other world. They’ve called it many names, but in this millennium, Ealis is most commonly used.”
“Does the portal work? Have you been there?”
“Yes, and yes. But it’s not safe there, hasn’t been for most my lifetime. Especially for people like us. This is the only portal I know of that isn’t under constant surveillance or hexed to keep outsiders away.”
“But the people that live there, in the other world, they come here often?” She shuddered at the thought. Otherworldly beings walking among them.
This time, Dean did notice her discomfort. “They aren’t all bad. Most of them are far more peaceful than humans. And a lot of them have human ancestors.” He forced a laugh, trying to further ease the tension. “Shit, they even speak English. I mean, they speak as many languages as humans do, but when the portals were first discovered, it’s said that we all travelled back and forth and lived together peacefully. If you consider the mystery of how so many of our languages wound up in the same place, it’s the only logical explanation.”
“And now?” Ingrid asked. “Are you telling me humans still know about this? Rich people get tired of vacationing here so they go to some… some alien beach?”
Dean smiled but didn’t break concentration. “No, no. The portals have been hidden from humans for a long time. Something happened, way back, that closed us off from Ealis and the Viator, effectively erasing any real accounts.”
“Viator?” Another echo rang in Ingrid’s mind. The Thing’s words, in the elevator.Little Viator.“That’s what they’re called. What we’re called?”
“Yes.”
“And what about the Thing? What are they called?” She was starting to feel repetitive calling it aThing. There were many names she could’ve used for it, but they all felt understated.
“Wrane,” Dean said. “What attacked you in the elevator was a Wrane.”
