She was considering taking a step into this vast darkness, but Emriss put a hand on her shoulder.
“Not here,” the ancient Monarch said softly. “Look.”
She didn’t need to point. Yerin understood what she meant.
One of the closer ‘stars,’ a large point of green light, was drifting closer. As it did, Yerin could make it out more clearly.
It wasn’t a star, or a planet, though it glowed. It was a kind of worm. Or a grub. Perhaps millions of them, joined together.
And it was squirming toward them. As Yerin gazed over it, a slash in its featureless head opened, forming a sticky mouth that looked to be made of green wax.
The worm must be unimaginably distant still, for Yerin’s Monarch eyesight to be unable to pick out more details. Even so, Yerin backed up.
That was not something that should exist.
The Death Icon whispered a soft song to her, agreeing. That creature deserved to be removed from the universe.
When the portal snapped back to the actual world with the Abidan guarding it, the transition was jarring. Yerin felt herself wrong-footed by the sudden shift from chaos to order.
The man in the white helmet stood just in front of their portal now. “Don’t waste another second!” he snapped.
Yerin thought she recognized that voice.
The entire group pushed through the gateway, which was somehow harder than crossing any other portal she’d ever used. Maybe ‘harder’ wasn’t right, but there was certainly more resistance. Though it only took a few steps, it was like hiking uphill. Or maybe pushing into a thick swamp.
Emriss led, bracing her steps with her diamond-headed staff. Sha Miara followed her, still sheathed in rainbow light, sticking closer to the older Monarch. Yerin went next, followed by Ziel and Mercy.
The brief time seemed to stretch in Yerin’s mind, the spatial tunnel trembling around her. It flickered on the edge of existence, like a candle-flame in a high wind.
She shoved the rest of the way through and found herself stumbling to a halt next to Emriss and Sha Miara. Ziel and Mercy still struggled, not all the way through yet.
From this end, Yerin could see that something had gone terribly wrong with her portal.
Mercy and Ziel moved slowly, as though drifting through a dream, but they were twisted and distorted. The space around them was about to collapse.
Fear spiked through Yerin’s heart. She had clearly failed when she cut through the world, and now the others might pay the price for it.
“Hurry them up,” the Abidan snapped, but Yerin was already reaching inside.
She grabbed Ziel and hauled him back, but the portal didn’t like that. It tossed like a pond in high storm.
Fortunately, Mercy emerged a second afterwards, panting and sweating. The white-armored man swept their portal away with an angry gesture. His helmet melted away, revealing slicked-back black hair, a sharp nose, and a distinctly rat-like impression.
“You almost found yourself trapped between worlds,” Kiuran of the Hounds said to Yerin.
Yerin trembled. “Did…was that…” She took a deep breath. “What did I do?”
“You? You got lucky, that’s what you did. You are the last people to ascend from Cradle. Congratulations.”
Yerin froze at those words.
Ziel folded his arms. “We have a friend back there.”
“I have relatives…” Sha Miara began, then straightened herself inside her rainbow disguise and spoke more confidently. “My family is still in Cradle, and I would like to know that they are safe.”
“Then I hope your loved ones are comfortable in their world. Our connection to Sector Eleven is so unstable I’m surprised even you made it through.”
Yerin continued to breathe deliberately as she calmed herself down. What was she doing listening to an Abidan lackey in the first place?
“We’ll get Eithan to fix it,” she said to Ziel.
Kiuran snorted. “There would be nothing to fix if you hadn’t dragged your feet. I expected you years ago.”
“Had some more Monarchs to kill.” If this was the Abidan that was going to bring them into the heavens, Yerin expected that she was in for a very unpleasant ascension.
He looked from Sha Miara to Emriss. “You rid Cradle of the Monarchs?”
“Thought the eye of the heavens could see it all.” The Abidan had to have a way to monitor the worlds below them. If they weren’t doing it, that meant they didn’t care.
“In ordinary times, it would be the work of a thought to see more of your world than you’ve ever imagined. But, if you would open your own eyes, you would see that these times are not ordinary.”
Yerin didn’t know what this world usually looked like, but compared to what she’d glimpsed through Fury’s ascension, the place had seen better days.
Chunks of debris hung in the sky beyond the iron cage like a boulder had exploded above the clouds. Some of the bars that surrounded the world had been twisted or broken, buildings had collapsed and stayed where they lay, and one of the glowing pillars in this courtyard flickered.
More significantly, at least to Yerin, was that Kiuran was the only white-armored figure in sight.
“This world is called Threshold,” the Abidan went on, once he saw Yerin take a glance around. “We redirect all mortal ascensions here, so that they may get used to life beyond their own limited worlds. And so that we may sort out the worthy. Adepts—those who are proficient in their world’s energy system—stay here or are relocated to another world where they may be useful. The mundane populace usually attaches to an adept or two, but we’re always looking for those like you.”
Kiuran waved a hand up and down to indicate their group. “The Waybound.”
Emriss took in a long breath. “I’ve never heard that expression before. Does that indicate that we are bound to the Way or bound for the Way?”
“Yes,” Kiuran said, with a smug smile. “It refers to those who have been noticed by me and my order, the Hounds, as Fated to bind themselves to the Way Between Worlds. This indicates exceptional Abidan potential, though even if you should fail to qualify for one of the seven Divisions, Waybound almost always have significant impact on the grander scheme of the cosmos.”
Mercy beamed. “That sounds great!”
Sha Miara looked equally excited.
The Hound glanced to his broken and run-down surroundings with obvious scorn. “Usually, a team of Foxes would await you, as they are responsible for inter-world travel, but we are occupied with a greater war.”
Ziel’s voice was flat. “Another war. Out here.”
Even Yerin had been hoping for a rest after fighting the Dreadgods.
Kiuran snorted. “You are from Cradle. You should know the face of our enemy better than most.”
Yerin remembered red eyes inside a bone helmet.
That was too much for her to tolerate. She didn’t need to get a grasp of the situation here. She needed to talk to the person who knew everything.
“Yell for Eithan,” Yerin said.
The Hound gave her a look of exaggerated pity. “Ozriel would not come here for you, even if I were to call him. He has greater duties than this.”
Yerin took a deep breath and gathered everything she had.
“Eithan,” she called, and even this strange world resonated with the name.
Kiuran’s eyes widened. He snapped armored fingers, and her shout cut off as though she’d never made it. His voice was shaky when he spoke, and he didn’t seem quite so arrogant as before.
“You must listen to me. Never try that again. The worst-case scenario for you is attracting Ozriel’s attention.”
Yerin was about to shout again, but she found a seal stopping her voice.
“I don’t know what face he showed when he walked among you,” Kiuran went on. “But it was only a mask. Do you understand? You are quite literally calling for Death.”
When Yerin tried to respond, there was still a seal on her voice. She could feel it, a simple working that nonetheless had great depth. He had twisted the Way to block her words, and now it was as though she had never been able to speak.