“Like cake in a crisis, we’re bleeding out,
While you deliberate, bodies accumulate.”
— A Perfect Circle, TalkTalk
----------------------------------------
The room was stark and cold, its walls fashioned from rough-hewn wood that still carried the faint tang of resin. Goose Payne swung open the door, a portable camp light dangling from one hand. Its dim, bluish glow flickered momentarily as he set it on the table, the light’s faint hum amplifying the otherwise profound silence. Nalya watched him curiously, noting the subtle tension in his shoulders as he took a seat. Across from her, Keltz and Bayne settled in, the latter’s eyes drifting toward the light, his head tilting slightly as if trying to puzzle out its purpose. He didn’t speak, though his curiosity was clear.
For a moment, no one spoke. Goose folded his hands in front of him, the leather creaking faintly as his fingers tightened, then relaxed. His gaze moved across the room, finally settling on Nalya. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken questions.
Finally, Goose broke it. “If we’re from different worlds,” he said, his tone measured, “how are you speaking perfect English?”
“English?” Nalya repeated, tilting her head, unfamiliar with the word.
“Yeah,” Goose said, leaning forward slightly. “The language we’re speaking right now.”
Nalya hesitated, as if collecting her thoughts. “You call it English,” she said, “but here, it is known as the Aegis Tongue. It has been spoken for thousands of years—since the time of the Broken Choir.”
“The Broken Choir?” Goose prompted, his brow furrowing.
She nodded. “The Choir were once gods who stood against the Endless Maw, a being of pure destruction that sought to devour our world. They gave their lives to hold it back, and their sacrifice gifted us many things—magic, balance... and the Aegis Tongue, a sacred language meant to unite the peoples of Elyndralis.” Her tone softened, a thread of reverence woven into her words. “My assumption is that the Choir’s sacrifice may have extended past the edges of our world into yours.”
Goose leaned back in his chair, his expression skeptical. “So you’re saying the same language has been spoken here for thousands of years? No changes, no variations?”
“Yes,” Nalya replied, as if the idea of linguistic diversity had never occurred to her. “It is the only language we have. Great efforts are taken to ensure the purity of the language. The Aegis Lexicon is one of our most sacred texts, kept in pristine condition by the High Magus Council.”
“Well, here’s a twist for you,” Goose said, his voice laced with dry humor. “On Earth, we’ve got hundreds of languages. English—what we’re speaking—is just one of them. And the version we’re using? It’s only been around for a few hundred years. So, unless your Choir were moonlighting as linguists on our world about five hundred years ago, something doesn’t add up.”
Nalya’s brow furrowed, a flicker of uncertainty breaking through her composure. “I... cannot explain that,” she admitted, the admission seeming to cost her. “But the Aegis Tongue has always been sacred to us. It has always been... universal.”
Goose shrugged, his skepticism unshaken. “Maybe we’re not as different as we think. Or maybe there’s a bigger game being played here, and neither of us has the full picture.”
The room lapsed into silence again, this time heavier, more thoughtful. Finally, Goose gestured toward Nalya. “All right. Let’s shelve the language debate for now. What’s the deal with that girl outside? The one pulling rocks out of the pavement. That’s... magic, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Nalya confirmed, her voice firm but even. “She is a Terramancer—a master of earth and stone. One of the ten currents of magic.”
“Ten currents?” Goose asked, leaning forward again.
“Yes,” Nalya said, her tone steady. “Each current is a distinct form of magic—fire, water, air, and so on. Terramancy governs the earth itself.”
Goose exhaled through his nose, his skepticism giving way to grudging acceptance. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. After everything I’ve seen in the last few hours, what’s a little magic?”
“It may seem strange to you,” Nalya said, “but it is a foundation of life here. And right now, it is far less important than the threat we face.” Her expression hardened. “Lord Goose—”
Goose quickly put up a hand. “Oh, no. Let’s not do that. You can call me Don, or you can call me Goose, but I’m not a Lord.”
“I apologize,” she said. “These lands are under siege, Goose. The Vectorans have occupied the Disputed Lands and are growing bolder with every passing day. They raided a village called Stone’s Mouth just yesterday—it’s barely an hour from here by brightstrider.”
“Brightstrider?” Goose repeated. He shook his head. “No, that’s not important. What’s a Vectoran?”
“They’re an empire to the south,” Nalya explained. “They made a petition to the High Magus Council, claiming the Free Folk were raiding their borders.”
“Free Folk are a lot of things,” Bayne added. “But they’re more like to prey on their own than to risk the wrath of the Pact.”
Nalya nodded. “I am certain it was nothing more than a pretext. Still, the High Magus Council approved their petition, granting them rights to cross into the Disputed Lands and occupy it. But I, as well as our King, believe they have higher aims for these lands.”
“Like what?” Goose asked.
She shook her head. “I cannot be certain. But the fact that they are here in such numbers, and that the High Magus Council approved it… what we are seeing from them is only just the beginning of their plans. That’s why my King sent us here. We sought to discover their aims. Instead… we discovered you. And if they discover you…” She trailed off, letting the weight of her words settle.
She didn’t need to finish. Goose’s mouth set into a grim line. “How many are we talking about?”
“We don’t know for certain,” Nalya admitted, “but I would estimate several thousand.”
Several thousand. The words hung in the air like a noose. Goose rubbed a hand over his face, then laughed—a bitter, tired sound. “It can’t just be easy, can it?”
“Rarely,” Nalya agreed, watching him closely. “But your town’s arrival here is unprecedented. Nothing like it has ever occurred in the history of the Pactlands. It may be a vulnerability, yes, but it is also an opportunity.”
Goose raised an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”
Nalya leaned forward, her hands resting lightly on the table. “Tell me, Goose, what of your town’s defenses? Your military forces?”
Goose exhaled through his nose, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, though there was no humor in it. “Ladysmith’s a small town. We’ve got some folks who’ve served in the military—veterans mostly—but we’re not exactly packing an army. The last time Canada had to deal with an actual invasion was... well, never. The only conflicts we’ve seen on our soil were internal, and even those are a hundred years or more behind us.”
“Internal conflicts?” Nalya prompted.
“Yeah,” Goose said, scratching the back of his head. “Incidents between settlers and the indigenous peoples who lived here first. It’s... complicated.”
“Complicated how?” Bayne’s voice broke in, gravelly and skeptical. His dark eyes pinned Goose. “Did you conquer them?”
Goose hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. “There’s no simple answer to that. Some were displaced, some fought back, and others adapted. It’s a dark part of our history, no question about it. But these days, we’re friendly.” He paused, his gaze thoughtful. “The Stz’uminus people live just across the harbor. They’re still here. Maggie Wyse, one of their Elders—you might’ve seen her outside earlier—she’s a good friend of the community.”
Nalya considered this, her expression pensive. “Even a small town can raise a militia. Is that an option?”
Goose nodded slowly. “It might have to be,” he admitted. “But that’s a last resort. I’d rather not arm a bunch of civilians without knowing what we’re up against. Speaking of which...” He leaned forward, his eyes sharpening. “What about Vector? What kind of weapons are we talking about? Artillery? Guns?”
“Guns?” Nalya echoed, unfamiliar with the term.
“Firearms. Long-range weapons that—” Goose mimed shooting a rifle. “Never mind. What do they use?”
Nalya’s expression turned grim. “Every soldier is equipped with a sword or spear, and armor, forged from Vectoran steel. They are highly disciplined, trained under a rigid chain of command. And then there are the magi.”
“Magi?” Goose asked, his brow furrowing.
“Vector conscripts all their magi into service,” Nalya explained. “And not just their own people. They’ve begun forcibly conscripting Free Folk—those who live outside the Pactlands. This means their forces include wielders of eight of the ten currents of magic.”
“Eight?” Goose pressed. “Not all ten?”
“No,” Nalya said, shaking her head. “Psychomancers are rare, but all of them are kept under intense scrutiny under the High Magus Council in the Covenant of the Wisdoms, and Chronomancers—Seers—are… even more rare. Only one is born per generation across all the Pactlands. But their armies include Pyromancers, Hydromancers, and Terramancers, among others. They also employ Animancers—soulbinders capable of manipulating the souls of living beings.”
“The hell does that mean?” Goose asked, a note of incredulity creeping into his tone.
“It means they use Soulreaved,” Nalya replied quietly. “Prisoners, volunteers... people whose souls have been bound to a vessel, then reanimated with a magi’s mantle to serve as soldiers made purely of one of the currents. They are tireless, fearless, and bound to the will of their masters.”
Goose let out a sharp breath, running a hand over his face. “Great. So, disciplined soldiers, magical artillery, and shock troops made of magic. Fantastic.”
“I don’t tell you this to frighten you,” Nalya said, her voice steady but firm. “I tell you so that you can prepare. The Vectorans are driven, loyal to their Emperor’s will, and relentless.”
Goose pushed back in his chair, frustration flickering across his face. “This just keeps getting better.”
“Goose, I may have a proposal for you,” Nalya said.
“I’m listening.”
“Let me take three of your people to Halen,” Nalya said, her tone sharpening with urgency. “We must speak to King Jarik Hillbreaker. He needs to see you, to hear from your own mouths what has happened—what is happening here.”
Keltz stiffened beside her, his jaw tightening. “But, Lady, your trials—”
She raised a hand, silencing him. “The trials can wait, Keltz.”
Goose exhaled, leaning back. “You’re asking me to risk three people. A long trek through land they don’t know, no way to communicate without cell service or radios—things you don’t even have here.”
Nalya’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Weigh your options, Goose Payne. Risk three people, or face thousands of Vectoran soldiers marching into Ladysmith. I give you my word as a noble of Halen that I will protect whoever you send.”
“You’d do well to hear her,” Bayne added. “The Halish do not make promises lightly.”
Goose studied her, his expression unreadable, then nodded slowly. “I won’t force anyone to go. But I’ll ask for volunteers.”
Relief flickered through Nalya, though she kept her expression steady. “Thank you. There is one other matter.”
“Go on,” Goose prompted.
“One of the three. It must be the crimson-haired girl, Terra.”
Goose raised an eyebrow. “Terra? You mean that punky girl? Ryan’s friend?”
“It’s important that she be part of the group that comes.”
“Oh, that one you’re going to have to explain. Why her?”
Nalya’s eyes locked onto his. “Before I was set on this path, before the King assigned me this mission, I visited my uncle—the Blueseer. His mantle is that of chronomancy. He can see events before they happen and… I believe he foresaw Ladysmith’s arrival. I could not have known at the time, but he told me I would witness the event that brought your town here, and… he told me he must meet with her. I do not have more answers than that, but I do know she is important, though I don’t yet know how.”
Goose’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded again. “We’ll see what she says.”
----------------------------------------
Lily Rasmussen shoved her hands into her jacket pockets as the heavy wooden doors of City Hall groaned shut behind her. She’d spent the past hour or so marching up the Ladysmith streets, knocking on doors helping others with a well-being check. Most people were understandably scared, confused. A couple were angry or inconsolable. Others still… didn’t answer. After having heard about the mayor’s death, there had been at least three other reports of people dying in the Blacklight, all with Pacemakers. She suspected that was just the start. She’d spotted Ryan’s truck in the parking lot, next to a group of people crowded around a strange spike jutting out of the ground near his truck. She eyed it with a dull curiosity, but put it out of her mind to go find Terra and Ryan. Ryan had been asked to go scout the logging roads, and asked Terra to come for the ride.
As she entered City Hall, the muffled chaos of the outside world fell away, leaving only the low murmur of voices in the front office. The room was lit with camp lights and smelled faintly of damp wood and old paper—a scent that felt oddly grounding, even as her mind churned with the surreal events of the day.
She glanced around, her gaze quickly landing on a woman standing near Terra and Ryan. The stranger had an air about her—something quiet but intense, like she was trying to shrink herself but couldn’t help being noticed. Her earth-toned tunic, breeches, and well-worn boots stood out against the backdrop of people in jeans and t-shirts. The simple practicality of her clothes felt almost theatrical, like she’d walked straight off the set of an historical drama. Lily’s eyes caught on a faint, jagged scar on the woman’s forearm, partially hidden by her sleeve, and the rough calluses on her hands. Whoever she was, she didn’t belong here. Not just in City Hall, but in Ladysmith.
“Lily,” Terra called, breaking her thoughts. “Come here for a sec.”
Reluctantly, Lily crossed the room. As she approached, Terra leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “That’s Ariella. She has magic.”
Lily blinked. “Magic?” she repeated, her voice flat. “Like... card tricks?”
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Terra gave her a look, the kind that said she wasn’t joking. “Real magic. Like... moving earth and stuff.”
For a moment, Lily stared at her friend, wondering if the stress of the last few hours had finally cracked her. But Terra’s gaze was steady, unflinching. Whatever she believed, she believed it completely.
Before Lily could press the issue, Boomer’s familiar voice carried across the hall. He was off to the side with Sergeant Boone and a woman Lily vaguely recognized from campus. Professor Beale? She was pretty sure she was a humanities professor, and Lily was in the hospitality program. They were deep in conversation, Boone’s harsh tone blending with Eleanor’s precise, measured cadence. Lily caught the professor gesturing toward Ariella, her gaze sharp and appraising.
A moment later, Eleanor stepped away from the group and walked directly toward Ariella, her heels clicking against the polished floor. “Ariella, is it?” she asked, her tone polite but clinical.
Ariella nodded, her pale green eyes flicking toward Terra, then back to Eleanor. “Yes.”
“I’m Eleanor Beale,” the professor continued. “I teach history and ethics at Vancouver Island University. Sergeant Boone tells me you have... abilities?”
Lily raised an eyebrow. Boomer was leaning against a wall nearby, arms crossed, looking thoroughly entertained by the unfolding interaction.
Ariella hesitated, glancing again at Terra, then at Ryan, who gave her a small, encouraging nod. Slowly, she lifted her hand, palm up with a small stone in the center of it. The air around her fingers seemed to ripple, and the stone began to rise from her hand and change its shape. It hovered there, turning lazily in midair before settling gently into her palm.
Lily felt her breath catch. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. And yet... there it was.
Eleanor, however, seemed unshaken. If anything, her expression sharpened with interest. “Fascinating,” she murmured, stepping closer. “And how does it work? Is it a conscious effort, or instinctual? Do you have limitations on what you can manipulate? Mass? Composition?”
Ariella’s shoulders tensed, her grip tightening around the stone. “It’s… not easy to explain,” she said softly. “Terramancy is... connected to the world. To balance. It requires focus, but also intuition.”
Eleanor hummed thoughtfully, her gaze never leaving Ariella. “Balance. Interesting. And this intuition—would you describe it as an inherent skill, or something you’ve developed through training? Are there others like you? If so, how many?”
The questions came fast, one after the other, each more probing than the last. Ariella’s gaze darted to Terra again, her posture growing stiffer with each word.
Lily frowned, her attention shifting from Eleanor’s curiosity to Ariella’s visible discomfort. The woman’s hands trembled slightly, her eyes flitting between the professor and the ground. For all her earlier composure, Ariella looked like she was on the verge of bolting.
“That’s enough,” Lily said abruptly, stepping between them. Her tone was firmer than she’d intended, but she didn’t care. “She’s not some science project.”
Eleanor blinked, taken aback, then nodded slowly. “Of course. My apologies, Miss Ariella. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”
Ariella didn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the stone in her hand. Then, almost reluctantly, she looked up at Lily. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
Lily offered her a small smile. “Come on,” she said, tilting her head toward a quieter corner of the hall. “Let’s get some air.”
Ariella hesitated, then followed. They stopped near one of the tall windows, the light from outside casting soft shadows across Ariella’s face. Up close, Lily noticed the faint freckles across her nose, the kind of detail that made her seem more human, more grounded. Less... otherworldly.
“I’m sorry about that,” Lily said, leaning against the wall. “Academics, right? She’s probably planning a lecture series on you already.”
Ariella let out a soft, almost nervous laugh. “It’s... fine. I’m used to questions.”
“Yeah, well,” Lily said, crossing her arms, “you didn’t look fine back there.”
Ariella hesitated, then nodded. “It’s just... this is all new. Strange. Being here, being around so many people who don’t know what Terramancy is, who don’t... understand.”
“Welcome to the club,” Lily said dryly. “Nothing about today makes sense. But for what it’s worth, you’ve got one person who doesn’t think you’re crazy.”
Ariella smiled faintly. “That’s more than I expected.”
Before Lily could reply, Boomer sauntered over, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Well, look at you two bonding,” he said, his tone light but teasing. “Ariella, was it? You’re full of surprises.”
Ariella glanced at him warily, but his easy grin seemed to put her at ease. “I’m not trying to surprise anyone.”
“Mission failed,” Boomer said, his grin widening. “Seriously, though, how’d you pull off that rock trick? Is it like... visualizing it first? Or do you just think, ‘I want that rock to levitate,’ and bam?”
“It’s... more instinct than thought,” Ariella replied cautiously, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “Terramancy is about feeling the earth—understanding its weight, its shape, its presence. It’s not something I can fully explain.”
“Okay, but like, what’s the coolest thing you’ve ever done with it?” Boomer pressed, his tone equal parts curiosity and mischief.
Ariella hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. “There was… landslide,” she said after a moment. “Last week, near the mountains. A Free Folk boy was in its path. I deflected it just in time, but I almost lost control.”
Boomer let out a low whistle. “A landslide, huh? Impressive. Also terrifying.”
“Mostly terrifying,” Ariella admitted with a wry smile.
“Sounds like you’ve got a lot more experience than the rest of us,” Lily said, leaning back against the wall. “We’re still wrapping our heads around the fact that magic even exists. And you’re out here moving mountains.”
Ariella shook her head. “It’s not something I chose. Terramancy is... a gift, yes, but also a responsibility. And there are consequences when you fail.” Her voice faltered slightly, the weight of her words settling between them.
Lily exchanged a quick glance with Boomer, who, for once, looked like he didn’t have a snappy comeback. “Hey,” Lily said, her tone softening. “You’re still here, right? That means you’re doing something right.”
Ariella’s smile returned, faint but genuine. “Thank you.”
“Besides,” Boomer said, recovering quickly, “you’re in good company now. Between Lily’s scary efficiency, Terra’s red-haired chaos, Ryan’s... whatever he’s good at, and me—an absolute beacon of calm under pressure—you’re practically set.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “Beacon of calm? Last week you freaked out over a spider.”
“It was huge,” Boomer shot back, holding his hands a foot apart. “Practically prehistoric.”
“It was the size of a quarter,” Lily deadpanned.
“You weren’t there,” Boomer said solemnly. “You didn’t see its eyes.”
Ariella’s soft laugh broke through their banter, and Lily felt a small swell of pride. She didn’t know this woman or where she came from, but it was clear Ariella carried a lot on her shoulders. If a little levity helped ease that burden, Lily was happy to provide it.
“What about you?” Lily asked, turning to Ariella. “What freaks you out? Big spiders? Clowns?”
“Clowns?” Ariella repeated, looking genuinely confused.
Boomer leaned in conspiratorially. “We’ll explain later. For now, just know they’re terrifying.”
Ariella gave him a bemused look, shaking her head. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Before the conversation could continue, the doors at the far end of the hall creaked open. Lily glanced over to see three unfamiliar figures emerging from an office: a blonde woman with a commanding air and a practical braid, a broad-shouldered man whose scowl seemed permanently etched into his face, and a wiry man with sharp features and eyes that missed nothing. They moved with purpose, their presence shifting the energy in the room.
“Friends of yours?” Lily asked Ariella, her tone light but curious.
“In a fashion,” Ariella said, straightening slightly. “That’s Nalya, Bayne, and Keltz. I only met them this morning.”
“Charming names,” Boomer quipped. “Let me guess: Bayne’s the one who looks like he wrestles bears for fun.”
Ariella gave a small, knowing smile. “More or less.”
Goose Payne’s voice cut through the room, drawing Lily’s attention. “Ryan, Terra—mind coming in here for a minute?” he called, gesturing toward the office the trio had just vacated.
Terra and Ryan exchanged a look, then headed toward Goose, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Lily watched them go, her stomach tightening slightly. Whatever Goose wanted, it wasn’t going to be good news.
“Well,” Boomer said, clapping his hands together, “guess we’ll just hold down the fort out here.”
Lily glanced at Ariella, who was watching the departing group with a hint of worry in her eyes. “You okay?” Lily asked quietly.
“Yes,” Ariella said, though her voice held a note of uncertainty. “I just... hope this meeting goes well.”
“Same here,” Lily muttered. Whatever “well” meant in a situation like this, it felt a long way off.
----------------------------------------
The office felt smaller than it was, its wooden walls closing in on Terra as she leaned back against the edge of the desk. Goose Payne paced in front of her and Ryan, his footsteps muffled by the worn rug underfoot. Behind him, a single window let in thin shafts of light that failed to soften his furrowed expression. Nalya, Bayne, and Keltz had left the room minutes ago, but their presence still seemed to linger like a weight in the air.
“So,” Goose began, his voice low and steady, “what do you two think of them? Do you get the sense they’re up to something?”
Ryan tilted his head thoughtfully, his arms crossed. “Keltz is quiet,” he said. “Doesn’t say much, but he seems... solid. Loyal. Bayne, though? He’s… intense. The kind of guy who probably wouldn’t think about gutting you if he felt like it, and then make jokes about it as you bleed out.”
“No kidding,” Terra muttered. “I get the impression he’s done something like that. But he does as Nalya says, even if he doesn’t want to.”
Ryan smirked faintly, but his tone was serious as he continued. “As for Nalya, I don’t get the impression she’s hiding anything. She strikes me as sincere. Focused.”
Terra nodded. “Same here. If anything, she seems like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. I don’t think she has the time or energy for deception.”
Goose stopped pacing and leaned on the edge of the table, crossing his arms. His keen eyes flicked between them, assessing their words. “Yeah,” he said finally. “That’s the impression I’m getting too. Doesn’t mean I trust them completely, but I don’t think they’re looking to screw us over. Pretty sure we’re not being told the whole story, though.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a slow breath. “This thing with this… empire though... it’s heavy. Real heavy. I’m guessing you haven’t told anyone about it yet?”
Ryan shook his head. “No. We figured you’d want to handle that.”
“Good,” Goose said firmly. “Let us handle it. We’ve got to form the Emergency Committee first, get all the right people in one room. When the time comes, we’ll tell everyone what they need to know—and only once we know exactly what to tell them. No point in starting a panic.”
Terra swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling in her chest. Thousands of Vectoran soldiers. Magic. Soulreaved warriors. It felt like a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from.
Goose shifted, standing up straight again. “There’s something else. She made me a proposal.”
Terra’s stomach clenched. She’d seen the way Goose had looked at her earlier, the way his attention had lingered. Whatever he was about to say, she knew she wasn’t going to like it.
“Nalya wants to take three of our people to Halen with her,” Goose said broadly, glancing between them. “She thinks the King will take this more seriously if he hears it directly from us. It’s a big ask, but she seems to think it’s important.”
Ryan’s brow furrowed, and Terra opened her mouth to speak, but Goose raised a hand, his sharp gaze landing squarely on her.
“And then there’s what she said about you.”
The words hung in the air like a drawn breath. Terra froze, her pulse quickening.
“What do you mean?” she asked cautiously.
Goose exhaled, his tone softening just slightly. “She said her uncle is some kind of… prophet or something. Apparently he foresaw Ladysmith’s arrival. He told her you’d be here and that you’re important to all this somehow. She doesn’t know why, exactly, but she believes it enough to ask for you specifically.”
Terra stared at him, her mind reeling. “Wait,” she began. “Ask for me specifically for what?”
Goose held her gaze steadily, as though that was enough of an answer for her. “I’m not gonna force you to go. It’s completely voluntary. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I think it’s worth considering.”
“I’ll go,” Ryan said immediately, stepping forward. His voice was firm, confident. “If they need three people, I’m in.”
Terra stared at him, startled. “What the hell are you saying?”
To Terra’s relief, Goose seemed every bit as shocked. “Whoa, kid. Cool your jets. We know next to nothing about them, and besides—you’re just a student and—”
“That might well be,” Ryan cut in, his tone calm but insistent. “But think about this. I’m a business student. I’ve been trained to negotiate, to read people, to analyze situations and make calculated decisions. If we’re walking into a royal court, don’t you think someone who knows how to keep their cool in high-stakes conversations might come in handy?”
“Ryan—” Terra started, but he wasn’t finished.
“Look, I know I’m not a soldier, or a scientist, or anything like that,” he said, his hazel eyes locking onto Goose’s with quiet determination. “But I’m a problem-solver. I’ve been balancing school, work, and gigs for years. I can adapt. I can think on my feet. And I know how to navigate people.”
“Kid, this isn’t a boardroom or a group project,” Goose said, crossing his arms. “This is hostile territory with enemies who won’t play nice. You’re twenty-two years old, and—”
“I’m twenty-four. And I know that,” Ryan said, his voice rising slightly. “But this isn’t just about surviving, is it? This is about making an impression. If this King Hillbreaker is anything like I’m imagining, he’s not just going to listen to someone who shows up and talks about armies and war. He’s going to want to hear something he can understand. Trade. Resources. Mutual benefit. That’s where I come in. I can bridge that gap.”
Terra looked at him, her stomach twisting. “Ryan, this isn’t some role-playing game. You’re talking about walking into a situation where—”
“Where I could get hurt,” Ryan interrupted. “Yeah, I know. But I’m willing to take that risk if it means getting help. Help for all of us.” He turned back to Goose, his voice steady. “You said it yourself—it’s worth considering. This might be our only shot to get the help we need. We can’t afford to waste it.”
Goose regarded him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You sure about this?” he asked finally, his tone quieter but no less firm.
Ryan nodded. “Absolutely.”
Goose set his jaw, rubbing the back of his neck as if weighing the burden he was about to take on. “I’ll run it by the committee,” he said at last. “But I’m warning you right now, Ryan Stills—your father would’ve had me strung up by my toes if anything happened to you—”
“—if he were still here, I’m sure he would,” Ryan cut in, his voice steady but edged with something softer. “But I was fourteen when he died. It’s been ten years, Goose, and I can do this.” He turned to Terra, his eyes earnest. “And if Terra goes—”
“I don’t know,” Terra interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel both their gazes on her, but she kept her eyes on the floor. “I need time to think about it.”
Goose nodded, his posture relaxing just slightly. “I think that’s fair,” he said. “It’s not a decision you make lightly. And I still need to talk to the Emergency Committee before approving anything, if we can even decide who’s going to be on it.”
The corners of his mouth pulled into a faint, humorless smirk as he added, “Feels like half the town’s got an opinion about what needs to be done. Once they find out about the Vectorans, that committee’s going to be a circus.”
Ryan folded his arms, his brow furrowed. “Do you think we have enough people who can make the hard calls? I mean, this isn’t just about organizing a potluck.”
Goose let out a dry laugh. “I’ll pull in the people who can handle it,” he said. “The problem is, every name on that list is already up to their necks dealing with food rations, supply chains, and a million other crises we weren’t prepared for. And now we’re supposed to be diplomats, too?” He sighed, shaking his head. “God help us.”
He straightened, his gaze sweeping over both of them. “Look, we’re not rushing into this, okay? But I need you two to be honest with yourselves. If you go, it’s going to be dangerous. No way around that. But if we’re going to have any shot at figuring this mess out, we need people who are willing to step up.”
Ryan nodded without hesitation. “I’m ready.”
Terra, however, could only nod numbly. Her mind was racing, running in circles as it chased the same impossible question: What the hell am I supposed to do? The idea of being important was absurd—laughable, even. She was just Terra Murphy, a regular girl from a small town with nothing to her name but a fiery temper and a knack for tying fishing knots. What good was that in a world like this?
But Goose’s words echoed in her mind, refusing to let go. We need people who are willing to step up.
And then there was Nalya—the blonde-haired bombshell from the other world who apparently insisted it be Terra who goes. Terra had felt the woman’s eyes on her constantly during the ride down the mountain, but she has dismissed it as her having a new experience. Why didn’t she say something to her? Why go over her head and tell Goose? Terra wasn’t important.
She clenched her fists, trying to squash the small, unwelcome thought worming its way into her mind. But what if she was?
She needed to speak to Nalya, one-on-one. That much was certain.
A knock at the door interrupted her spiraling thoughts. Goose called out, “Come in!” and the door creaked open, revealing Maggie Wyse, her weathered face set with quiet determination.
“Goose,” Maggie said, her voice calm but firm, “we’ve got the nominees sorted out. We’re waiting on you.”
Goose exhaled, his jaw tightening. “Right. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Maggie’s sharp eyes flicked to Ryan and Terra, and for a moment, her expression softened. “It’s a good thing you’re both here,” she said simply before retreating.
The door clicked shut, leaving a moment of silence in her wake.
Ryan turned his head toward Terra, his hazel eyes meeting hers. There was a flicker of unspoken agreement between them—That was weird.
Terra raised her eyebrows slightly, as if to say, You noticed that too, right? Ryan gave the faintest nod in return.
“I should go,” Goose said, breaking the moment as he rubbed his hands together. “Ryan, Terra—think it over. We’ll talk again after I meet with the committee.”
Ryan gave a resolute nod. “I’ve already made up my mind.”
Terra managed a tight smile. “I’ll let you know soon.”
Goose gave them both a long, searching look before stepping out of the office. The door creaked shut behind him, and the room felt oddly still.
Terra glanced at Ryan, who was leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with an infuriatingly calm expression. She crossed her own arms and shot him a look. “You really think you’re ready for this?”
Ryan shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Ready or not, doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice, does it?”
Terra sighed, turning toward the window. Outside, the late afternoon sunlight cast long shadows over the town square. Somewhere out there, Nalya was waiting, along with the answers Terra wasn’t sure she wanted to find.
The thought lingered, heavy and persistent, as the scene outside blurred. Despite the warm light spilling over the town, the doubts stayed with her, cold and unrelenting, as if the weight of two worlds had somehow landed squarely on her shoulders.