Page 57 of The Shadowed Oracle
And then it stopped.
With a sobering splash, she’d fallen into a warm bath resting in an ocean of clouds. A complete contrast to what she’d experienced only seconds before. She was reborn. All her muscles and tendons revived, as if the journey had treated every malady she’d ever incurred.
Sinking, not falling. And finally, gracefully, materializing in a wide-open rolling green field full of pillow-soft grass, vibrant flowers, stands of trees as tall as skyscrapers, and titanic mountains capped with white snow.
She sat up. Carved into the green soil all around her were symbols identical to the one in the center of the portal room. They looked old, fading. Theywerefading, she realized. Right before her eyes, the magic holding the door open to Earth disappeared.
It felt like falling again—the finality. There was no going back. She’d have to go onward in this strange and vibrant new world.
Her eyes could barely take it all in. The sky was richer somehow, countless shades of blue swirling in barely perceptible waves. The forest was like a manic painting of clashing colors. Purple and auburn leaves hung off tall, dark brown trees. Bright pink and orange flowers with ovules that glowed an almost neon green and blue. While the smell of all of that vegetation in the air felt just as overwhelming, a sweet flora mixed with heavy petrichor. She searched for a nearby river or heavy clouds that could explain the intoxicating after-rain scent, but only saw clear skies and endless trees.
It was well beyond any beauty she’d ever beheld. The ecosystem glistened with life, so sprawling that the drought and rotten soil the Wrane spoke of seemed like an outrageous lie.
From her vantage point in the clearing, she could see the circular parameters of the thicket. It appeared she’d been dropped into the only flat stretch of grass for hundreds of miles, like the makers of the portal had chopped down every tree, uprooted every plant, and demolished any shrubs just to accommodate the landing coordinates.
It made for quite the view, but was less than ideal for her protection.
Feeling watched, Ingrid darted her eyes in every direction searching for a place to hide. She had heard and seen enough to know there was plenty to fear in those woods, but she had no other choice. She had to move.
Every footstep felt too slow, too unbalanced as she made for the shelter the trees might provide her. A thick fog of darkness blanketed her as she crossed the threshold. Everything looked the same. She knew once she’d gone too far, she wouldn’t be able to find her way back to where she started. Her only hope was finding Dean and the twins—if they truly had been sucked through the portal, like Sylan had told her.
Ingrid repeated the thought to herself, wondering.
Whyhadhe told her? What had he meant about her friendsnot being so friendly? And how the hell had he known her name?
Pressing questions, all of them, but hardly the time.
Stifling the thought as quickly as it sprouted, she decided it would be best to assume her companions were somewhere in the woods. They were likely looking for her at that very moment, which meant it would be best to stay put. To wait for her new partners to come to her aid. After all, the portal had only one exit, one entrance, and she’d only been there a few minutes. She only needed to find a safe place to hide.
In the distance, Ingrid saw a felled old tree that sat near the edge of a small cliff, hollowed out from the inside. As quickly as she could in her new armor, she started into a mad dash, her sword sheath rocking against her thigh, and the weight of the iron on her shoulders feeling heavier and heavier with each step. She climbed in, burying herself as deep into the trunk as she could, cowering behind branches and the surrounding weeds and bushes that surrounded.
It was almost comfortable. Moss covered the dying bark and created a cushiony surface. The silence was peaceful, the breeze was pleasant on her face, and the crisp, emission-less air filled her lungs like never before.
Peering through the brush, she had a decent view of the clearing and the path she’d taken and the spot she was spit outof by the portal. The cliff’s drop behind her was steep enough to hide her completely, so she focused her eyes ahead and kept a lookout for any movement.
She had no experience in the wilderness, but recalling something about British soldiers in America being separated in heavily wooded areas during wartime, she searched for signs of tracks, worn-down paths, footprints, or signs of broken branches.
She was relieved to find none.
The wind picked up and brought another cool breeze washing over her skin. Quieting herself like that, she began to notice the rhythm of the forest. The running water from the brook had acted as a blanket over the sounds until then, but was now more of a bassline accompanying the pitter-patter of small critters in the trees, and the rustling of the branches and bushes.
It was like a song, syncing up and then suddenly rising in volume.
A sudden whoosh of air blew her forward, followed by the distinct sound of crunching soil. Ingrid’s body warned her first. A prickling sensation shooting up her arms and legs, and her heart skipping a beat. She swiveled her head around, desperately searching for who or what had just descended upon her.
She’d neglected her rear, couldn’t imagine that any animal or Viator would be able to make the twelve-foot leap to get to her, but it had, and now it was upon her.
Survival instincts kicked in as quickly as they had when trapped in the elevator with that Wrane. She ducked down, finding a small hole in the tree trunk to peer through. This time, the creature came from the front. Slowly closing the gap was a mass of grey scaly skin and bright eyes, utterly silent in its spider-like grace. The front arms were like the raptorial legs of a praying mantis, sharp and deadly. Its head was almost featureless, save for reptile-yellow eyes. Where a nose andmouth should’ve been, there was only more scaly grey skin. And the torso and hind legs were long, spindly-thin, but rippled with powerful muscle.
Muscle it used to vault upward, latching onto a high branch of one of the nearby trees, and then hang there, readying to strike.
It did so with dizzying speed but Ingrid evaded the attack. Lunging to her left, she narrowly escaped the creature’s… Ingrid had no idea what to call them. Pincers? Talons? Tentacles? Then with a strength she had no idea she possessed, Ingrid flung herself from the confines of the hollow tree and tumbled into a bush of yellow and purple leaves and florets.
She got to her feet, had to remind herself to breathe again as she watched her attacker.
After missing its target, the creature had stumbled into the belly of the dead tree Ingrid had been hiding in. In a riotous flurry of strikes, it turned the dying bark into wet mulch, carving itself free and snapping back at Ingrid.
An involuntary whimper escaped her as she rolled side to side, avoiding the creature’s attacks as it brought down those scythe-like arms. They drove deep into the soil with each strike. In the second or two it took the creature to pull out from the hole it made in the ground, Ingrid drew her sword.
