The weightless sensation vanished as gravity reasserted itself on Jonathan.

His boots hit the solid ground, and he immediately dropped into a crouch, raising his pistol. He scanned his surroundings, tuning out the unnecessary and looking for movement or immediate signs of danger.

The scene that greeted him broke his flow and concentration. The desert scrublands of Eastern Washington were gone and replaced by something altogether more alien. Enormous, towering formations of dark gray stone stretched toward an alien sky. Their twisted shapes defied any form of natural geology that Jonathan had seen. What little vegetation that he could see was sickly and pale, clinging to the cracks in the stone.

Keep moving. Create distance.

He removed his rucksack while kneeling and reholstered the pistol. With practiced movements, Jonathan took the rifle from the top of his pack and leaned forward, resting the barrel on his calf to keep the muzzle clean. Then he pulled out his GPS unit and powered it on, waiting for it to acquire satellites. After several moments of nothing, he tried moving it around, searching for any signal. The screen remained blank.

No signal. Different world, different sky... probably no satellites.

He pulled out his compass next, but the compass needle spun lazily, refusing to settle on any direction. Whatever strange forces had created this place seemed to interfere with basic navigation tools.

He stuffed the equipment back into its proper pouch, then resynched the bag’s straps and threw it over his shoulders. Grabbing the assault rifle, he slung it over his neck and nondominant shoulder.

With the blue portal to his back, strange shadows were cast across the rocky ground in front of him. His own shadow threatened to play tricks on his mind. He forced himself to focus and continued to scan the surroundings. The air felt thick and almost grainy in his lungs. Rather than the cold October morning he'd left behind, it now felt like he was standing in the dry heat of the desert.

Jonathan moved cautiously, keeping his rifle at the ready.

He moved from one bizarre set of rock formations to the other. While part of his senses were still turned toward the portal in case anyone attempted to follow him through, he was more concerned about whatever was out there.

Whatever killed Marcus.

Each time his boots skidded to a halt behind a set of rocks, new sounds echoed in the quiet environment. He could hear some distant sounds, mostly through echoes. Though it was hard to tell, he had to assume that it was the distant falling of rocks.

He moved in short sprints followed by a pause to assess the surroundings for several minutes. A deep, guttural roar rolled across the landscape, which brought him to a halt and caused his heart to begin beating faster.

Jonathan pressed his back against his cover and waited. The sound was unlike anything he’d heard before. It was too deep to be a bear, angry rather than in pain, and too organic to be machinery.

Remaining still, he waited to see if there was any more movement or calls that could help him pinpoint the beast's location.

Soon, he began moving at a slower pace. Fifteen minutes of careful movement brought him to the first signs of past combat. Shell casings glinted in the strange light scattered across the blood-stained rock. Jonathan’s throat tightened as he recognized the brass.

He crouched to touch several of them.

5.56… Military standard issue rounds.

Jonathan fought to maintain his tactical mindset as he surveyed more of the scene.

Read it. Stay focused.

Blood trails marked desperate movements toward a natural chokepoint. Torn pieces of tactical gear lay scattered around the small clearing. He saw several torn and discarded plate carriers and a used IFAK medical pouch.

Crouching, he moved through the area, staying aware of his surroundings as he read the scene. He covered his mouth with the collar of his shirt as he found what appeared to be the left half of a military uniform. There wasn’t a body with it, but the blood staining the cloth made it clear that whoever had been wearing the top was no longer alive.

He knew he didn’t want to see, but he had to check the sleeve. As he’d feared, the unit patch was a bloodied and frayed scroll. His fingers trembled as he held it. Jonathan’s blood began to boil, and his heart rate increased, not from fear or adrenaline but anger.

He was here.

The scene told a clear story to anyone who knew how to read it. The unit had been ambushed before trying to fall back to more defensible terrain. Impact marks on the rocks showed they’d maintained fire discipline, but something had forced them into close-quarters combat. The volume of brass suggested they’d exhausted large amounts of ammunition.

He looked closer in the direction of the scuff marks and blood trails. Where he’d first thought that it might be the soldiers moving or hauling wounded, he began to realize that the drag marks were leading away from the battle site.

Whatever had attacked the unit had taken their bodies.

Jonathan followed the clear signs of movement. The ambush suggested coordinated attackers had made the attack. The drag marks were heading in a consistent direction without any attempt to conceal the markings.

He followed the markings for several minutes while considering how he might approach the situation. The entire platoon's decimation made it clear that whatever was in the Rift was extremely dangerous.

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It wasn’t long before he heard voices—if they could be called that. Deep, rumbling sounds filled with grunts and yelling drifted from ahead of his position. The distance was hard to judge in the rock-filled environment, where sounds seemed to bounce from all directions.

Circling back, he moved carefully to higher ground. Jonathan found a position overlooking what appeared to be a tribal camp. His breath caught again as he finally saw what he was hunting.

The creatures were massive, easily reaching eight feet tall. Their skin looked like living stone, gray and craggy. Twenty or thirty of them moved through the camp, carrying crude weapons of bone and rock. They seemed to cluster around several cave mouths in the rock face.

As Jonathan watched them move, he saw one break off and head down a small trail, which forced it to duck under a dead white tree. He debated following after the creature while it was isolated but calmed his desire for action.

Minutes later, two of the larger creatures began circling each other near one of the cave entrances, their guttural sounds growing increasingly hostile. They gestured at a piece of flesh between them, and it was obvious that they were posturing over the food.

The argument escalated quickly, and huge stone fists swung with brutal force. He flinched as the first fist connected, causing a clack of stone on stone and chips of dirt and stone to fly from the monster’s shoulder. The creatures continued to slam into each other with terrifying force.

One of the trolls caught its opponent with an uppercut that would have taken a human’s head clean off. Instead, it staggered before readjusting and stepping back into the brawl. The fight escalated, and one troll seized the other while throwing it into the nearby cave wall. The impact shook loose debris from above their heads, but the thrown creature simply stood and charged back in. Their stone flesh seemed to absorb punishment that would reduce metal to scrap.

The fight ended almost as quickly as it had started. The larger troll managed to pin its opponent, who stopped struggling after a few moments and a few free punches connected with its face. Both creatures then walked away, apparently done with their dispute. The larger of the two, who had won, gripped the meat on the ground and let it drag behind him as he walked into the cave.

Jonathan stayed prone, ignoring the protest in his lower back from the awkward position on the rocks. Twenty minutes passed before the original troll creature returned from the trail, dripping wet. When it sat near one of the groups, another one made its way down the trail, headed in the same direction as the first.

Time to move.

He eased back from his position, and as he stood, he heard his knee crack. It caused him to freeze, but then he realized that even if something did hear it, it would likely sound the exact same as a falling stone, which was a common sound in the strange environment. Keeping low, he circled wide around the camp’s perimeter while once again using the strange rock formation as cover.

Jonathan assumed that, just like from the ambush site to camp, the trail would be a straight shot from the camp to whatever body of water they were using. He found the body of disgusting water with ease. It was an odd color between green and brown, and if Jonathan didn’t see the creature splash into it, he might have thought it was a solid surface.

He snuck over to the trail and found a natural choke point. Two rock formations closed in on either side, creating an ideal spot for Jonathan to ambush the beast. After setting up his position, he steadied his breathing and forced his nerves to calm. The adrenaline and frustration at losing his son welled up within him, and he found it harder than ever to keep his emotions in check.

Jonathan adjusted the rifle's buttstock on his shoulder, readying himself.

After a time, the troll's heavy footsteps grew closer. He stayed hidden and waited for the perfect shot. The creature came into view, its stone-like flesh reflecting the strange light. Jonathan squeezed the trigger as he slowly breathed out the warm air.

The controlled burst struck center mass, and sparks flew as bullets ricocheted off the troll's hide with metallic pings. The creature roared, more in anger than pain, its head snapping toward Jonathan's position.

Shit.

Jonathan adjusted his aim, sending controlled pairs toward the troll's joints. The bullets sparked off stone flesh, barely leaving marks. The troll charged with shocking speed, covering ground faster than anything its size had the right to move.

He abandoned his position as the troll swung his stone axe through the air where he'd just been. The M4 came up again, but the troll's backswing caught the rifle, tearing the weapon from his hands and sending it spinning away.

Jonathan's transition to his sidearm was smooth, muscle memory taking over. At the closer range, he could target the joints more precisely. Three rounds struck the troll's knee, which finally drew a roar of pain. Before he could press the advantage, though, the creature's massive arm swept toward him. The impact sent him flying. He slammed into the rock wall, pain exploding across his torso as the troll's axe opened a deep gash. His pistol clattered away into the rocks.

The copper taste of blood filled his mouth as he rolled to his feet, fighting to stay conscious.

Move or die.

Jonathan dodged another swing, and his combat knife cleared its leather sheath. The troll's attacks were powerful but predictable. He ducked under a wild swing, knowing he couldn't match the creature's strength but could use its momentum against it.

His ribs screamed in protest as he moved. The gash across his torso was bleeding freely, which made his movements slow and sluggish. The troll overextended on its next attack, and Jonathan saw his chance.

He stepped inside the creature's reach, using its own weight to sweep its leg. The troll crashed forward, its stone axe clattering free. Jonathan lunged for the weapon, ignoring the burning pain in his side.

Armed with both knife and axe, he circled the rising troll. The knife probed for weak points while the axe kept the creature's attacks at bay. Blood loss was starting to affect his vision, turning the edges dark.

One shot at this.

The troll charged again.

Jonathan feinted with the axe and drove his knife up under its jaw, where the stone flesh looked softer. The blade sank deep. Before the troll could react, Jonathan brought the stone axe around in a devastating uppercut to the same spot.

The creature crashed to the ground, finally still. Jonathan fell to one knee, chest heaving as he tried to breathe through the pain. Strange blue text appeared in his vision, but before he could read it, movement caught his eye.

Three more trolls entered the clearing, likely drawn by the sounds of gunfire.

So this is it.

Jonathan pushed himself to his feet, blood dripping from his wounds. If this was his last fight, he'd make it count. Marcus's face flashed in his mind, and something inside him snapped.

Rage flooded through him like liquid fire. His vision began to tint red as strength surged through his limbs. He no longer noticed the pain of his wounds, and his mind was consumed by something darker, more primal.

The first troll reached him with a roar.

Jonathan's leg shot out in a front kick, connecting with the troll's hip. The impact sent the large creature flying backward, crashing into one of its companions. Jonathan stared for a split second, his rage-addled mind unable to process how he'd launched such a huge monster with a kick.

The second troll's attack seemed to move in slow motion, but coherent thought was becoming impossible.

Red crept in from the edges of his vision like blood in water.

More blue text flashed, but he couldn't focus on it. Everything was becoming a crimson haze.

Jonathan felt as if invisible hands were pulling his consciousness backward. Not as if he was falling but sinking deeper into his own mind. Whatever was taking control felt ancient, violent, and absolute. His awareness retreated further and further, leaving only rage in its wake.

The last thing Jonathan remembered was his own roar mixing with those of the trolls as consciousness slipped away into darkness.