"Whatever!" I yelled back, my voice trailing off as the black ink of the fountain surged up over my head, muffling the sound of the celebrating city.
The transition wasn't like the golden portals or the violet dimensional warps we'd become used to. It was slow, thick, and suffocating. It felt like being submerged in cold molasses that smelled faintly of old parchment and damp basements. For a heartbeat, there was no up or down, no gravity, just the sensation of falling through a liquid that was trying to read my thoughts. My right arm, still numb and tingling from the clash with Caim, throbbed in sync with the white vein on my knife.
Then, the ink gave way.
SPLASH.
I hit a shallow pool of something that definitely wasn't water. It was thin, like watered-down paint, and cold enough to make my teeth chatter instantly. I scrambled to my feet, gasping for air, and immediately felt a heavy weight slam into my back.
