Mark, Quet, and Omet walked along the road in silence while Horan flew a few feet above them, looking around for anything of note. The former three were clearly alright with the situation as it was, but the lack of conversation was starting to make Horan antsy. “Hey, so… If we’re not doing anything right now, how about we go over all the stuff that happened at the party? See if that’ll give us any clues to where we are.”

Quet nodded, deep in thought. “Well, I didn’t really notice it at the time, but there was definitely something up with the portal while we were leaving. I saw the stone at the top when we arrived, that may have been some kind of magical lodestone that the Norse used to amplify whatever thaumaturgic effect they used to send the portals to all those Primoi at once. If that’s the case, our attackers may have developed some kind of counter-spell to disrupt the stone’s thaumic resonance and throw the portal’s destination out of balance. I guess all four of us went through at once, before the portal’s destination changed again.”

Mark looked up at her, impressed. “That’s a pretty quick conclusion to draw. Are you familiar with magic? Because I’ve seen it get thrown around a few times.”

Quet smiled and laid a hand on her belt of bags. “Um, thanks. Yeah, I’m the best thaumaturge- er, uh, magician- in my Domain. I’m also the only one in my Domain, but I try to be more positive about that.”

“Well, good for you!” Horan floated down to her, pulled a sticker book out of his jacket pocket, pulled out one that said Hard Worker! in big, pink lettering, and gave it to Quet.

Quet looked at the sticker on her finger. “Uh… thanks? Do you keep an entire book of these?”

“Yup. It helps people know that I appreciate their efforts. Found the book in a craft store.”

Mark watched Horan put the book away again. “I thought you ran out of stickers a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, I did. But I got a new one. Books full of motivational stickers aren’t exactly a priceless commodity these days, dude.”

“Then why didn’t you start giving them to me again?”

“A-ha!” Horan floated over to Mark, displaying the smuggest grin he could muster. “I knew you liked them! You called them dumb, yet you ask for more. How curious…”

“That’s not what I… Ugh.”

“He didn’t finish the sentence! I win! Hah!” Horan floated back up, mock celebrating.

Quet chuckled. “Okay, yeah, that’s pretty sweet.”

Omet shouldered her. “Then why don’t you get a book of your own? I could do with some friendly stickers too, you know.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to steal that guy’s thunder. Besides, Hurat said…” She stopped, eyes wide. “Hurat! Everyone!” She gripped Omet by the shoulder, drumming her leg with her other hand. “I-if that stone got messed up, and they’re not here, where did they end up? Th-they could’ve landed in the ocean, or appeared in the sky, or they might not have left, and now they’re trapped with all those…” She began to breathe heavily.

Omet brought their own hand up to cover Quet’s, and patted her on the back. “Hey, hey, I’m worried about them too. How about, to help figure out where we are to get them back sooner, you figure out where we are? The sun’s visible again, you could use that.”

Quet looked up at the sun and her breathing steadied as she began to walk again. “Yeah… yeah, that might help. Thanks.” She pulled a sigil-covered stone out of one of her bags. “If we left for the party at 2 PM, and that was maybe two hours ago, and the sun is there…”

Omet split themself into two copies, one of them sliding off of the other like a banana peel. One walked alongside Quet, while the other waited for Mark and Horan to catch up next to them before beginning to walk again. Quet was six feet in front, which was pretty much out of earshot while she was thinking. “Okay, crisis averted…” They looked over at Mark. Mark could now see that both of this copy’s eyes were yellow, unlike the mismatched coloration of the full Omet. “She knows more about magic than anyone else I know, but she doesn’t know how to deal with a panic attack by herself. It’s kinda funny, almost….”

Horan landed, worried. “Wait, does that kind of thing happen a lot with her?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Oh, no, it’s pretty rare. But considering everything that’s been happening lately, I might have to step in a lot more for a while.”

Horan looked down. “...Huh. Maybe I shouldn’t have given her that sticker.”

Mark sighed. “C’mon, you didn’t even know that was a problem then. Don’t say stuff like that, it just gets you down even more.”

Horan smiled. “Thanks, dude.”

“She ought to be finishing up by now.” Omet’s copy jogged forward to the one in front and the two combined into one.

“...Okay, so if this is Earth, and that is the sun, I figure that we’re either somewhere in the central Pacific ocean, or Alaska.” Quet looked around at the surrounding greenery. “I doubt it’s Alaska.”

Mark stuck his hands in his pockets. “Great. We’re stuck on some island in the middle of nowhere. That’s what I like to hear.”

“Yeah, you’re right! How do we get off?!” Quet ran a hand through her hair, fingers waving again. “D-do any of you know how to make a boat? O-or have water powers? Or…”

“Whoa, whoa, don’t freak out.” Omet took her hand. “If you think about it, we don’t even need to be super fast about this. I mean, our family has Hurat! Whatever problem might show up, he’s probably got it handled. He always finds a way to pull through.”

Quet chuckled. “Yeah. He’s probably happy that this happened, he’s got a fresh new army to fight. Might not have even noticed we’re gone.”

-

“No, no, no-no-no-no-no…” Hurat pulled at his hair, pacing around the group. “Where are they? Did they make it through the portal? Are they safe somewhere else? Did they land somewhere else in the house? Are they dead!?”

“Hey, hey, whoa.” The Primus who had introduced herself as Gilnevn held Hurat in place. “A lot of Primoi are gone, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“My Primoi! We’re missing the rest of my Domain!”

Sardok scoffed. “What, all of them? Just you here? Yeah, of course somebody’s gone. Plenty of our own are gone too. We just got teleported to the Down Below and smashed into the ground, that’s not something that you just survive. We’re the lucky ones, if-”

“Don’t say that.” Hurat lunged forward and grabbed Sardok by the shoulders. “Do not say that they’re dead. We don’t know that. Can you see them, or something? Aren’t you the guy with the prophecy shtick?”

Sardok pushed Hurat off of him. “Don’t touch me. And no, I can’t see them. My powers don’t work on command, I just pick things up occasionally.”

“Then nothing’s set in stone. Unless anything else comes up, I’m just gonna assume that my family is sitting back home, maybe finishing that horror marathon. Maybe they’ve even noticed I’m gone and are trying to figure out where we are.” Hurat stepped back and looked at the Primoi around him. “Okay, here’s the plan: We find everyone who’s missing, then we get out of… Wait, did you say the Down Below?”

Sardok shrugged. “Like I said, I pick things up.”

Hurat slumped to the floor. “Great. That ancient evil that you people said was dealt with dragged us into another dimension. Great! We’re stuck down here! Great!”

“Stop saying ‘great’!” Gilnevn shoved Hurat to the side. “What we need to do is stay here and hope Ligivul doesn’t find us. She’s out for blood, and has the power of destiny on her side. We’re all dead unless someone outside our Domain steps in, so if we’re lucky, the first-gens here won’t get killed before some other Domain realizes something happened and finds us. And I don’t mean to be dismissive, but a Domain with someone like you as their leader doesn’t seem the competent type.”

“What?!” Hurat got to his feet and stared Gilnevn in the face. “You want to just stay here and wait for us to get found by her and those… things that attacked us? It could take months for anyone to realize you people have gone silent, if it ever happens at all!”

“Then what do we do? Even if we aren’t found and picked off, where are we gonna go? We’re stuck in the Down Below, and odds are that the things Ligivul got to attack us are Joeys, so who knows how many more she’s got on her side down here? We’re safe here, so we stay here.”

“So, what? Damned if we do, damned if we don’t?” Hurat looked back at Sardok. “You, do you have anything on what would happen if we tried to fight her?”

Sardok winced. “No, let’s not do that. She’s dangerous.”

“Then what do we do? If we stay, we’re dead. If we leave, we’re dead.”

Gilnevn folded her arms and sighed. “Believe it or not, the prophesized destroyer of humanity who has a personal stake in seeing us dead hasn’t left us a convenient escape route. Yeah, I know, stop the presses.”

“Okay, let’s just…” Hurat pinched the bridge of his nose. “For now, let’s just keep a low profile and try to see if there are any survivors. Ideal world, we find a way to get out of this. Because from here, I’m not seeing one. Let’s take this one minute at a time. If we’re in imminent danger, Sardok can hopefully warn us.”

“If I pick up on it beforehand, that is. It’s not guaranteed.”

“Mm-hmm, alright… any objectors?” Hurat looked around, and didn’t see anyone protest. “Great. Let’s start moving.” He held up a hand behind him and scorched a Primus-sized hole in the pile of wood behind him. “Everyone in, I’ll get us through. If you can’t walk yet, get someone to carry you.”