The Research Camp. The Hills East of the Capital. Morning.
The camp was quiet.
The adventurers went about their duties—patrolling the perimeter, maintaining their gear, resting in their tents. The mages worked in the pavilion, their voices low, their instruments humming. The artifact sat on the stone table, dark and waiting.
William had taken charge of the guild's operations, freeing Grog to focus on the portals. He handled the contracts, the supplies, the adventurers' complaints. He was good at it—patient, fair, firm.
Grog spent his mornings in the training yard, testing his axe.
---
Ken watched from the edge of the clearing.
Grog stood fifty feet from a wooden post, the axe in his hand. He threw it. The blade spun through the air, dark and deadly, and buried itself deep in the wood.
He extended his hand. The axe trembled, pulled free, flew back to his grip.
"Again," Ken said.
Grog threw it again. Again. Again.
The axe always returned.
"You're getting faster," Ken said.
Grog examined the blade. "It's learning me."
"It's bonded to you."
Grog nodded slowly. "Like the sword."
Ken moved to stand beside him. "The sword is for fighting. The axe is for finishing."
Grog looked at him. "That's what Henrik said."
"Henrik is wise."
Grog almost smiled. Almost. "He's loud."
---
They sat on a fallen log at the edge of the training yard.
The sun was climbing, the air warming. The smell of pine and smoke filled the clearing.
"You're thinking about Aldric," Ken said.
Grog didn't deny it. "Every day."
Ken was quiet for a moment. "I've been thinking about him too. The stories Ben told. The way William talks about him. The way you look at the portals."
"He was my friend."
"He was more than that."
Grog looked at the axe in his hands. "He was the reason I came back. The reason I kept fighting."
Ken nodded slowly. "Then we find him."
---
Mirena called them to the pavilion.
The key fragment lay on the table beside the artifact—a small piece of carved stone, glowing faintly. The refined stones were arranged in their circle, ready for the next portal.
"The resonance patterns are consistent," Mirena said. "The key fragment is connected to the spatial trace Ken found. I think it's a marker."
Grog frowned. "A marker for what?"
"A location. A world. Maybe the world where Aldric is."
Alistair stepped forward. "The fragment is old. Older than Kevin's order, I think. The symbols match the ones on the rings, but the craftsmanship is different."
Mirena nodded. "Whoever made this understood spatial magic better than we do. They left these markers as... beacons. Waypoints."
Ken studied the fragment. "Can we use it to control the portal?"
Mirena shook her head. "No. The portal still opens to random worlds. But the fragment might help us identify the right world when we find it."
Grog's jaw tightened. "How?"
"The fragment resonates with the spatial trace. If we open a portal to the world where the trace originated, the fragment will glow brighter. It will pulse."
Grog looked at the artifact. "Then we keep opening portals. Keep searching."
Mirena nodded. "Until we find it."
---
That evening, Grog stood at the edge of the camp, watching the stars.
Ken joined him.
"You should sleep," Ken said. "Tomorrow, we open another portal."
Grog shook his head. "I can't."
Ken was quiet for a moment. "I've been alone for a long time. Before the guild, before the strangers, before any of this. I thought I didn't need anyone."
Grog looked at him.
"I was wrong." Ken met his eyes. "Aldric taught me that. He stepped through a portal to save people he barely knew. He sacrificed himself for strangers."
Grog nodded slowly. "That's who he was."
"That's who we need to find."
They stood in silence, watching the stars.
---
Mirena worked late.
She studied the fragment, the artifact, the resonance patterns. She made notes, drew diagrams, ran calculations.
The trace was faint, but it was there. A thread connecting the fragment to a world beyond the void.
She closed her eyes.
Where are you, Aldric?
The fragment pulsed.
She opened her eyes. Made a note.
Hope.