The Research Camp. The Hills East of the Capital. Dawn.
The sky was gray, streaked with clouds that caught the first light of the rising sun. The air was cold enough to see breath, but no one shivered. They had been waiting too long to feel the cold.
Grog stood at the edge of the pavilion, his axe strapped across his back, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The artifact pulsed on the stone table, its surface dark but alive, humming with contained energy. The refined stones were arranged in their precise circle—thirty of them, glowing faintly, ready for another jump.
Mirena looked up from her notes. Her eyes were red from lack of sleep, but her hands were steady. "The resonance is stable. The fragment is ready."
Grog nodded. "Open it."
She raised her hands. The crystals flared. The stones glowed brighter, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat. The air in the center of the circle rippled, then split, then shimmered into an oval of light.
The portal opened.
Beyond it, a new world: amber skies, black mountains jagged against the horizon, a river of molten light that snaked across the landscape like a glowing wound. The air on the other side shimmered with heat, even from here.
Ken stepped forward, his hood down, his face still. "I'm ready."
Grog looked at William, who stood near the pavilion entrance, his arms crossed, his jaw tight. "We'll be back before the portal closes."
William nodded. "You'd better be."
Grog turned to Ken. "Let's go."
They stepped through together.
---
The Other World.
The heat hit them first—thick, heavy, oppressive. The air smelled of sulfur and ash. The ground was black stone, cracked and glowing from within, as if the world itself was burning. In the distance, the river of molten light flowed slowly, casting everything in shades of orange and red.
Grog stood still, letting his eyes adjust. Ken stood beside him, scanning the horizon.
No birds. No wind. No sound of life.
Grog pulled out the fragment. It pulsed in his hand—faint, steady, but present. The trace was here. Somewhere.
Ken raised his hand. Three shadow clones materialized beside him—identical, silent, ready.
"Spread out," Ken said. "Report what you find."
The clones vanished into the distance.
Grog moved toward the mountains. Ken followed.
---
The terrain was brutal.
Black rock, sharp as glass, cut their boots and snagged their clothes. Crevices steamed with sulfurous air, forcing them to leap or go around. Patches of ground crumbled under their weight, sending small avalanches of stone into unseen depths. The heat was unrelenting, pressing against their skin, making their clothes cling and their throats dry.
But they kept moving.
The fragment guided them. Every time they strayed, it pulsed softer. Every time they corrected, it pulsed harder. It was like following a compass made of magic and memory.
Ken's first clone appeared beside them. "Nothing to the east. Just rock and more rock."
Grog nodded. "Keep searching."
The clone dissipated.
They walked on.
---
They found the cave at midday.
It was hidden in the side of a black mountain, its entrance narrow, almost invisible against the dark stone. The fragment blazed in Grog's hand—not blinding, but urgent. The trace was strong here.
Ken held up a hand. "Wait. I'll send a clone inside."
A shadow clone materialized and slipped through the entrance. Moments later, Ken's eyes flickered.
"There's been a fight," he said. "Old. Days, maybe. But not weeks."
Grog drew his axe. "Let's go."
---
The cave was small, dry, dark. The air was cooler here, but still heavy. Scorch marks blackened the walls—not from fire, from magic. Spatial residue. A portal had opened here.
And there was blood.
Dried, dark, splattered against the stone. Not a killing wound—more like a cut, a scrape, someone who had been hurt but not stopped.
Grog knelt beside the stain. His heart pounded.
Then he saw it.
A scrap of cloth, caught on a jagged edge of rock. Blue. Faded. Torn.
He picked it up. The fabric was rough, worn. It smelled of dust and sweat and something else—something familiar.
"Aldric's cloak," Grog said.
Ken moved to the far wall, where the scorch marks were thickest. "The portal closed here. The residue is cold, but it's his."
Grog stood. "He was here. He opened a portal and left."
Ken nodded. "To another world."
---
They searched the cave for another hour.
The clones spread out into the surrounding mountains, looking for more traces, more signs. They found nothing. The fragment pulsed, but faintly—no strong direction. The trail was cold.
At the cave entrance, Grog stopped. The amber sky stretched overhead, indifferent.
"He's not here," he said.
Ken stood beside him. "He was. He moved on."
Grog looked at the torn cloth in his hand. "Then we follow him. To the next world. And the next."
Ken was quiet for a moment. "The portal will close soon. We need to go back."
Grog nodded. He tucked the cloth into his pocket. Turned away.
They walked back toward the portal.
---
The Research Camp. Evening.
The portal rippled.
William stood at the edge, his arms crossed, his face still. Lira paced behind him. Mirena watched the stones, her hands clasped. Davin sat on a crate, his blessing humming softly.
Grog stepped through first. Ken followed.
Their clothes were torn, their faces scratched, their bodies weary. But they were standing.
William stepped forward. "Did you find him?"
Grog shook his head. "He was there. He moved on."
Mirena's face fell. "Another world?"
Ken nodded. "The trail is cold, but it's there. He's alive. He's searching too. There was a fight—old blood, scorch marks. He opened a portal and left."
Grog reached into his pocket. Pulled out the torn blue cloth. "This was his."
William took it. Held it in his palm. His throat tightened.
"Then he's alive."
Grog nodded. "He's alive."
Lira touched Grog's arm. "We'll find him."
Grog looked at the artifact, dark and waiting. "We open another portal. We follow him. One world at a time."
Mirena looked at the fragment. "The trace is faint, but it's a direction. We'll find him."
---
That night, they gathered around the fire.
The portal had closed. The stones were spent. The artifact was dark. But the fragment still glowed, a small light in the darkness.
Ken sat in the shadows. "He's out there. Running. Or searching. Or both."
William looked at the fire. "He's not alone. Not anymore."
Grog touched the axe on his back. "We'll bring him home."
The fragment pulsed.
The axe hummed.
The stars shone down.
---
End of this Book.
To be continued in my next Book: The Lost Hero