"Why is the ocean being dramatic?" Kail yelled, wind tearing her words into glitter. "Sea, I did not sign up for metaphysical glue."
"Shut up and hold on," Aiden said, voice flat but his grip like iron. He was half-buried in Vordi's coils, one arm wrapped around Lizz, the other around Kail. His cloak flapped like a drowning flag.
"It's pulling," Vordi gasped, every flap of her not-wings a ragged, tired gasp. "It is not a thing that eats, it is a thing that pulls. I feel… threads." Her voice was cracked, feathers scraping—she sounded like she'd gargled embers.
Kail laughed a short, wet laugh. "Threads? Great. I always wanted my life to be a knitting metaphor."
"Less metaphor, more literal," Lizz muttered, lips blue at the corners. "Feels like being tugged through a fish tank full of light and regret." She tried to smile but it came out small. "Also, that knitting joke was bad, Kail."
"Thanks, I try," Kail snapped, because she needed noise. Silence would make her think. Thinking would make her drown.
They fell and did not hit water. They slipped into a place that was not air, not water, not sky. It felt like falling through a painting—colors that shouldn't be together bled and reassembled. Light moved like a current. Time chewed on minutes and spat them out wrong. Kail's stomach lurched as if someone had flipped the world upside down and then sideways again.
"Is this dying?" Kail asked, the words small.
"Shut up," Aiden said before she could. He didn't mean it harshly. He meant, don't add that thought to the stew. "If this is dying, make it at least dramatic."
Lizz coughed. The blood on her lips had stopped for now. Her eyes rolled once, like someone browsing a bad menu. "If we die, I want pizza before," she said. "Pepperoni only. Not the fake pineapple stuff, I swear."
Kail barked out something that was half laugh, half sob. "Deal. If we make it home, pepperoni only. Also, Aiden, you're paying."
"I have no money," Aiden said, deadpan, and even in this, something like a grin cut his face. It lasted a breath then fell away. He looked out into the current of colors, trying to map it, to find purchase, anything to anchor them.
The place moved them like a tide. They saw things, quick flashes: the diner bell, gum popping in slow motion; the colossus's eye, a furnace flicker; Lizz's hand like a small sun. Then other things that didn't belong to any of them — a memory that wasn't theirs, a child's laugh in a language none of them spoke, a road that split into a thousand doors.
"Are those — are those our memories?" Kail whispered. "Or Aquarius' scrapbook?"
"Not all ours," Aiden muttered. "Some are echoes. The portal sifts. It shows things. It tries to weigh you."
"Who decides the weight?" Lizz croaked.
"You do," Vordi rasped. "By what you refuse to let fall away."
Kail wanted to argue, but there was truth in it that hurt. She thought of the things she held on to — crude jokes, the taste of greasy fries, Lizz's laugh, Aiden's impossible stillness — and realized maybe the portal saw those and thought, keep. Throw away the rest.
A beast flickered at the edge of sight — a memory-monster, teeth made of clock hands. It tried to latch onto them, to pull a string and snag a name. Kail swatted at it with the flat of her hand. It dissolved into confetti.
"Not today, timewolf," she said. "You pick a better day to ruin."
"Speak for yourself," Aiden said. "Time is a jealous bastard."
Lizz managed a breath that was almost a laugh. "You guys are ridiculous."
"Glad you still have opinions," Kail said. "That means we can blackmail you later."
The current pushed. They were drawn toward a bloom of blue the size of a sky, a hole that wasn't empty but full like a mouth. It hummed with the sound of home: gulls, salt, a diner bell in a rhythm they knew like a heartbeat.
"It's pulling us home," Lizz whispered, stunned. "Maybe this is the way. Maybe the sea isn't trying to eat us, it's a door."
"Great. A door that bites," Kail said. "Also, did the universe not get the memo that we're very injured?"
"It's not about memo," Aiden said. "It's about ordinance." He sounded tired and old and very honest. "There are thresholds. This is one."
The blue mouth widened, swallowing stars. The pull grew harder, like the air itself had hands.
Kail held on tighter, arms around Lizz, other hand in Aiden's like she'd superglued herself to him. "Okay—fun little acid trip is over now, right? Any time the rollercoaster wants to stop, I'm down."
No one laughed this time.
The light thickened. Shapes came out of it. Not beasts, not exactly—more like… shadows carved out of memory.
One stepped forward: a mirror-Kail, twisted, dripping seawater, eyes hollow. She grinned too wide, teeth sharp.
Kail's stomach flipped. "Okay, wow. I did not give permission for evil doppelgängers. Aiden, what the f*** is that?"
"The portal," Aiden said, jaw tight. "It tests resolve."
"Oh good, yeah, test us when we're starving, bleeding, and emotionally unstable. Perfect timing." Kail shoved Lizz closer to Aiden. "Hold her. I'm not letting fake-me roast me in front of… well, me."
Shadow-Kail hissed. Her voice came out warped. "You don't belong anywhere. You joke so no one sees you're empty."
"Wow," real Kail said, clapping slow. "Portal therapy, ten out of ten, very subtle. Guess what? I already know that! And I'm still here. So f*** you, mirror me." She swung a fist—not elegant, not magical, just raw punch. The shadow shattered into shards of light.
Lizz wheezed a laugh against Aiden's chest. "You just punched… yourself. That's so you."
"Shut up, near-death girl," Kail muttered, shaking her stinging hand.
More shadows bled out. A wolf made of black sand lunged at them, Aiden's double standing behind it—taller, sharper, eyes bleeding red instead of black.
Aiden didn't move at first. He just watched, face unreadable.
"Aiden?" Kail barked. "Anytime you want to stop brooding and kill that thing—"
The shadow stepped closer. Its voice was his, but broken: "You are nothing without chains. You want leash and master. That is all you've ever been."
Aiden's face flickered. For the first time, his mask cracked—just a flash of raw rage. "No."
The wolf lunged. His sword was in his hand before Kail even saw him move. One clean slice, and the beast dissolved into dust. He turned on the shadow of himself. "I do not bow. Not anymore." His voice cracked like iron snapping. He drove the blade through the image. It shattered, leaving the air humming.
Kail stared at him, breathless. "You… actually shouted. Do you know how rare that is? I feel like I should frame it."
"Not the time," Aiden said, but his knuckles were trembling on the sword.
Lizz groaned, voice hoarse. "Guys… focus… it's not done yet."
The light pulsed again, and this time—oh god—Lizz's shadow stumbled forward. Burnt, broken, coughing fire. Her face twisted in pain.
Kail froze. "No. No. No, we're not doing this."
Shadow-Lizz whispered: "You couldn't save me. You'll never save anyone. Everyone you love burns because of you."
Kail's throat closed. She clutched the real Lizz tighter, shaking. "You're not her. You don't get to say that."
The shadow's chest cracked open, fire spilling out. It reached toward Kail like it wanted to drag her in.
Kail panicked. She wanted to scream, to hide, to run. But Lizz coughed weakly in her arms, real and fragile and alive.
Kail lifted her chin, tears hot in her eyes. "You can burn a thousand times in front of me, and I'll still drag you out every time. Because you're mine, okay? My pain in the ass. And I'm not letting a f***ing hallucination steal you."
The fire-shadow screeched—and dissolved into sparks.
The current lurched, tugging them harder toward the portal's core.
Everyone was shaking. No one talked for a minute. Then Kail muttered, voice cracked: "I really hate self-discovery magic sh*t."
Aiden's voice was quieter. "It spares no one."
"Yeah, well," Kail huffed, "next time it wants to psychoanalyze us, it can buy me fries first."
For once, Aiden didn't argue.
The pull grew harsher. The blue hole filled their vision, wider than the sky, brighter than lightning. The sounds of home pressed through—waves, gulls, even faint laughter.
Lizz, weak but awake, whispered, "We're close… I can feel it. Like… like sunlight waiting."
Kail kissed her damp forehead. "Then we fight through. All of us. Even if we break in half doing it."
"Even me?" Aiden asked softly. It wasn't mocking. It was raw.
Kail looked at him, still gripping his hand. "Especially you. Don't you dare check out."
His throat worked like he wanted to say more—but the portal's light roared, and swallowed them whole.
The light swallowed them alive.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing. No air, no water, no sound. Just silence, like the universe held its breath.
Then—impact.
They hit ground hard, coughing, sprawling in wet grass. Not sand. Not the cursed island. Grass.
Kail groaned, rolling onto her back. "If this is the afterlife, it needs better cushions." She blinked up at the sky. Not storm-black. Blue. Open. Clouds drifting like lazy boats. Her throat closed. "Oh my god. We're… we're home?"
Aiden sat up slowly, scanning the horizon, sword still in his hand. He looked suspiciously alive for a man who'd just been chewed up by cosmic light. "Not certain. Could be another trick."
"Buzzkill," Kail muttered, but she squeezed Lizz's hand tighter.
Lizz coughed, opening her eyes. Her hair stuck to her face, her lips cracked, but her smile broke like dawn. "It feels… different. Not poison air. Not cursed ground." She dragged a shaky breath in. "It smells like… earth."
Kail laughed, wet and sharp, pressing her forehead against Lizz's. "See? Told you I'd drag you home. Even if it killed me. Or, y'know, mostly killed you."
"Very comforting," Lizz whispered, but she squeezed back, weak fingers stubborn.
For a few seconds, they let themselves breathe. Just breathe.
But then—the air shifted.
The field wasn't empty. Shapes moved in the distance. Figures. Dozens. Maybe more.
Kail squinted, hand shielding her eyes. "Are those… people?"
Aiden's body went rigid. His grip on his blade tightened until his knuckles whitened. "Not people."
As they drew closer, the forms became clearer. Armored silhouettes, gleaming in sunlight, their faces hidden behind masks. Too uniform, too still.
Kail sat up fast. "Okay, creepy knight squad marching toward us. Because obviously we can't just land home and nap. That'd be too easy."
The line of armored figures stopped twenty paces away. Silence fell, so heavy it hummed.
One stepped forward. Taller, cloaked in dark green, helmet marked with a sigil none of them recognized. The figure tilted their head like they'd been waiting forever.
When they spoke, the voice echoed, metal-twined, unreadable.
"Welcome back, survivors. You've wandered long enough. Now… you'll serve."
Kail's stomach dropped. She looked at Aiden, at Lizz, then back at the army closing in.
"Oh, sh*t," she whispered.