“One eye on the door, other eye on a rail, while the other eye following a scarlet trail.”
— Sleep Token, Ascentionism
Ryan Stills tightened his grip on the strap of his messenger bag, his eyes fixed on the glowing silhouette of Ladysmith City Hall beneath the eerie, bluish light of the new addition to the night sky. The oceanic planet shimmered faintly above them, its luminescent hue casting strange, elongated shadows over the gathering crowd. The sight was unsettling—a massive, alien orb where there should have been only the familiar blackness of night. Twenty minutes ago, he, Terra, and Lily had left the apartment in a haze of disbelief. Now it felt like they’d crossed into another reality altogether.
Beside him stood the wiry-framed Boomer Sproule. He adjusted the collar of his flannel shirt, the Gas 'n Dash logo on his work uniform peeking out from beneath. His friend had arrived at City Hall just before Ryan and the girls. He’d been at work at the gas station, just a few blocks away, when the strange light erupted out of nowhere. He hadn’t wasted time when the power cut out, locking the station up and heading straight to City Hall.
Boomer and Ryan had been friends since their first year at Vancouver Island University, brought together by a shared appreciation for dry humor and late-night debates over everything from pop culture to conspiracy theories. Boomer’s sharp wit had a way of cutting through tension like a blade—usually.
“Alright, let’s recap,” Boomer said, his dark hair catching a glint of alien light. “Crazy blacklight, sky goes haywire, and there’s a damn planet in the sky.” He held up his fingers to tick off points. “What do you think? Elaborate prank by a tech billionaire? This probably isn’t Bezos’ flavour, but Musk seems the type. Or an alien invasion? Oh! Spontaneous communal hallucination?”
Ryan chuckled softly. “Go big or go home, right?” He craned his neck to look again at the stranger in the night sky. “I’m leaning toward interdimensional rift.”
Boomer smirked, his sharp eyes reflecting his dry wit. “Ah, a man of taste.” He gestured toward the planet. “The size is wrong, though. Too big for a moon, too small for a—”
“A planet?” Lily interrupted, stepping between them with arms crossed. Her dark eyes glinted in the bluish light. “It’s great that you two are having fun, but how about we focus on not dying?”
“Wait, dying is on the table?” Boomer asked, his skeptical eyes studying the planet.
“Pretty sure that depends on what’s even up there,” Ryan muttered.
“I just hope whatever’s up there stays up there,” Terra added. Her green eyes swept the crowd. Her vivid red hair, aglow in the surreal light, looked like a warning beacon. “If they can bring a planet here, what else can they do?”
Boomer looked as though he were about to offer a quip before Ryan shook his head at him. Thankfully, Boomer kept his mouth shut.
Nearby, a ripple of restless movement surged through the crowd as the familiar face of Sergeant Boone passed through it, being bombarded with questions. Ryan had encountered Boone once or twice before, usually while intoxicated. The old cop cut an imposing figure as his broad shoulders parted the anxious crowd. Making his way through, he climbed the steps of City Hall. He turned toward the crowd and raised his hands, commanding attention. Ryan noted that his usual gruffness seemed to be weighed down by something heavier.
“Alright, folks, listen up!” Boone called out. His rough and gravelly voice boomed over the crowd’s murmurs, demanding their attention. “I need everyone to stay calm. We’re figuring this out, but panic isn’t going to help anyone.”
“Figuring what out?” a voice shot back from the crowd. “You’re supposed to have the answers!”
Boone frowned, scanning the sea of anxious faces. “I get it. You’re scared. We all are. But right now, our priority is keeping everyone safe.”
“Safe from what?” another voice demanded.
Before Boone could answer, the screech of tires silenced the crowd. Heads turned as a vintage red Ford Pickup skidded to a stop on the hill alongside City Hall. The driver’s door flew open, and Goose Payne emerged, his boots crunching against the gravel as he purposefully strode toward the crowd.
Ryan had known Goose for years. He had been a friend of his father for decades and had been on the town council for as long as Ryan could remember. Goose had a reputation for always having a joke to defuse any tension. But tonight, his expression was hard and grim, and the usual spark in his eyes was gone.
“Sergeant!” Goose barked, shoving his way through the throng. His weathered face was lined with tension, his voice clipped and demanding. “What the hell’s going on?”
Boone reacted as though he’d been struck. Ryan couldn’t blame him. Goose was never the type to yell. As long as Ryan had known him, Goose was always the type to lead with a joke.
Boone’s broad shoulders sagged slightly before he managed to compose himself. “Goose, I—”
“The mayor’s dead.” Goose’s voice cracked like a whip, cutting through the crowd. Gasps rippled outward, and he jabbed a finger at Boone. “His heart stopped. Whatever that light was, it messed with his Pacemaker. His wife’s falling apart, I had to leave her with Helen, and I’m the only damn council member here so far. If we’re gonna do this right, we need to know what the fuck is going on.”
“Pacemakers and spooky lights—not good bedfellows,” Boomer muttered under his breath. Ryan barely registered the words, shocked at the information.
Boone raised his hands and looked back at Goose, then to the murmuring crowd. “Alright, I’m just as in the dark as the rest of us are. Our emergency communications are down. Satellite phones are non-operational. There’s just no signal. Period.” He sighed. “But there’s more. I sent out a couple of officers to get help from Duncan and Nanaimo, and they both told me the same thing. The rest of the island…” He hesitated, then forced the words out. “…is gone. It’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?” Goose growled, stepping closer.
Boone’s jaw tightened. “They described it as a cut. The highway just ends—like someone took a knife to it. Highway, airport, everything—half there, half not. And beyond it? It’s… somewhere else. Somewhere not here.”
Goose’s stare was unyielding. “Make this make sense.”
Boone’s face twisted in frustration. “It doesn’t make sense, Goose! But you’ve got eyes, don’t you? Look at that damn thing up there!” He jabbed a finger at the glowing planet. “Would you have believed it if you weren’t seeing it yourself?”
The crowd erupted into frantic whispers, the hum of panic thick in the air. Lily’s sharp voice cut through. “Everyone, shut up!” Her commanding tone drew attention, and the murmurs faded. “We’re not going to get anywhere if we lose it now.”
Beside her, Terra muttered, “We might not get anywhere anyway.”
Boomer leaned closer to Ryan, his voice low. “Looks like you won the what the fuck happened pool. Interdimensional rift it is.”
“Not the time,” Ryan replied, shooting him a look.
Boomer grimaced, the humor gone from his expression. “Fair.”
“Everyone, please!” Boone bellowed, silencing the noise again. “We’re gathering information, and we’ll have a plan soon. For now, stick together. Stay safe. Updates will come when we know more.”
Goose strode to the steps of City Hall and unlocked the front doors with sharp, purposeful movements. “I need you to go round up the rest of the council,” he called over his shoulder, not waiting for a reply. “I don’t care if you have to drag them here. I can’t do this myself, and I get the feeling every last goddamn second needs to count.”
As the door swung open, Goose caught sight of Ryan and gave him a curt nod. “Stills. Come here a sec.”
Ryan blinked in surprise, glancing back at Lily, Terra, and Boomer. Terra motioned for him to go.
He stepped forward, his chest tightening as he approached Goose.
“You all right?” Goose asked quietly as Boone started moving back into the crowd, recruiting who he could to help.
“Yeah, I just… wanna know what happened is all.”
“You and me both, kid,” Goose said. He motioned toward Ryan’s blue-green Toyota. “That one’s yours, right?”
Ryan nodded.
Goose pulled a key off of his keychain and pressed it into Ryan’s hand. “That’s for the Mosaic gate up by the hydro lines on Davis Road. You know those logging roads as well as anyone. If the highway’s out, I need to confirm the logging roads are out, too,” he said. “And I know you know those roads as well as anyone in this damn town. Get up there and take a boo.”
“Me?” Ryan asked.
Goose gestured toward the planet. “If that’s not a hallucination, we’re going to need all hands on deck, kid. I need people I can rely on, and right now, I need your help.”
Ryan looked down at the key in his hand, then clenched his fist around it. He nodded. “I’m on it,” he said.
Goose patted his shoulder firmly, his hardened expression softening slightly. “Good,” he said. “Be quick, but be careful. I get the feeling this isn’t just a bad night. It’s the start of something much bigger.”
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The sun was already beginning to light up the eastern sky by the time Ariella reached the top of the ridgeline, softening the glow of the Azure Dream that lingered on the horizon. Her breaths came steady but labored, the ache of fatigue gnawing at her muscles. She’d been camped to the north when the sky erupted in a wave of absence—a silent explosion that jolted her from restless slumber. The earth’s anguished cry, a soundless wail in a language only she could perceive, coursed through her veins like molten lead.
Ariella knelt at the edge of the ridge, her fingers brushing the dew-kissed grass. A faint hum, like the strained murmur of fractured voices, pulsed through the soil. Closing her eyes, she let her Terramancer senses reach deep into the earth. It felt raw, wounded. She inhaled sharply as phantom pain mirrored the land’s anguish in her chest. The break in the earth lay ahead, unseen but unmistakable in its wrongness.
“What happened here?” she murmured, brushing a stray lock of chestnut hair behind her ear. Her fingers grazed the jagged scar on her forearm, a nervous reflex. Compared to the earth’s devastation, her own wounds felt trivial, but the sensation stirred unease. Something was coming. Something dangerous. Perhaps it was already there.
Ariella scanned the ridgeline. In the soft morning light, she made out a sharp drop where none should exist. She moved cautiously toward it, listening to the dire warnings the earth nearly shouted at her. As she stepped to the edge, her breath caught. Below stretched a vast forest—but not the one she’d been traveling through. This forest was different. The trees were paler, almost ghostly, and the soil beneath them exuded an unsettling unfamiliarity.
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Reaching out with her mantle, Ariella extended her senses to the foreign ground. It resisted her touch, yet revealed itself in fragments: coal, limestone, ancient rock like jagged teeth. She sensed veins of gold, quartz, hematite—and copper in astonishing abundance. A wide road cut through the land, its wheel ruts speaking of use. This place had been touched by civilization, yet it felt untouched by time. Her pulse quickened as a rhythmic drumming echoed faintly in her ears, like a heartbeat.
Her eyes snapped open.
People were approaching.
Eight figures, mounted on brightstriders, moved with precision along the ridge. Their pace was urgent, almost military. The Free Folk were never this organized, and brightstriders were rare among them. That left only one possibility: Vector. The name echoed like a curse. The Vectoran Empire, relentless in its expansion, was the talk of every Free Folk village she’d passed through for the past week. If they were here, so was danger.
Ariella’s mantle reached deeper into the wounded earth, searching for an escape. The foreign forest below offered her only chance. She summoned her power, shaping a landslide that spilled outward to form a slope. Rocks and soil cascaded in a controlled tumble, and she descended with practiced ease, sliding to the forest floor. The pale trees provided cover as she slipped into their shadows, drawing her dagger and laying low. Her senses stretched outward, tracking the approaching riders.
The brightstriders slowed to a halt above the slope. Ariella’s green eyes remained fixed on the ridgeline, her breathing shallow. A head appeared over the crest, adorned with blonde hair. The woman wore an ornate uniform, but it bore no Vectoran colors.
She wore Halish colors.
Ariella cursed under her breath. Halen was no friend to her either, and the Disputed Lands were far beyond their borders. Were they working with Vector? Or against them? Neither possibility boded well.
“There’s a way down,” the blonde woman said. “Lieutenant Wicket, Bayne. With me. The rest of you, set up a watch on that ridge. If we’re not back by noon, send a runner to Stone’s Mouth. Have Syrel send word to Cilasia.”
Ariella cursed again, her grip tightening on her dagger. As she felt the others ride away, three figures descended: the blonde woman, a younger man with dusty brown hair, and an older man clad in fitted armor. The older one touched the earth at the base of the slope, his expression wary.
“Ain’t natural,” he muttered. “I’m telling you, Lady, this is the Maw’s work.”
“Why would the Endless Maw wait thousands of years only to break his seal and reshape a mountain?” the younger man asked, skeptical.
The older man scowled. “Fool, look! The trees are different. The earth’s a different color. This isn’t sunken land; it’s something new.”
The blonde woman knelt, picking up a stone and holding it in her palm. “Bayne’s right. This place isn’t part of the Disputed Lands.”
“Aye,” Bayne said, plucking a fallen rock and turning it thoughtfully in his hand. “Dark currents ran through here. Even if you gathered every Terramancer between here and Shavi, they couldn’t do this. Unnatural. We’d do well to forget this place and get back to dealing with Vector.”
Dealing with Vector? Ariella’s tension eased for a heartbeat before returning. Even if they weren’t here for her, discovery could be fatal. She kept still as the older man leaned toward the younger, whispering something. The younger man stiffened, then nodded.
The blonde woman gestured to the road beyond Ariella’s hiding place. “What do you make of this?”
Bayne studied it, frowning. “Too wide for a trail, but it’s a road all right.” He stepped forward, his eyes scanning the ground, drawing closer to Ariella. She tensed, her heart hammering.
“Should we follow it?” Wicket asked.
The older man barked a laugh. “Of course we’re going to follow it!”
“What happened to the Maw’s work, then?” Nalya asked.
Bayne smirked. “Way I figure it, Lady, if it were the Maw that done this, he’d have gotten our friend first.”
Ariella froze. Friend?
“Friend?” the blonde woman asked, her tone wary.
Bayne spun suddenly, hurling the stone in his hand toward Ariella’s hiding spot. Instinct took over. Her mantle surged, halting the projectile in midair. The movement betrayed her.
Bayne drew his sword, grinning. “Aye. Our little Terramancer friend.”
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The stones hovered around the girl like a living shield, their edges jagged and heavy with power. Each rotation seemed deliberate, their faint hum resonating through the still forest air. Nalya’s hand tightened around the hilt of her sword as she studied the girl’s rigid posture, the tremor in her shoulders, and the defiance burning in her pale green eyes.
Not a feral magi. A trained Terramancer, then—though her control seemed tethered to the volatile pulse of her emotions. Dangerous.
The Terramancer’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “So, you found me.” She smirked, though the edge in her tone betrayed the fatigue she was masking. “Took you long enough. I was starting to think you lot couldn’t find your own asses.”
Nalya’s stomach tightened as she watched Bayne. The grin spreading across his face was the one she hated most, the one that meant he’d decided this was a game and he was enjoying it far too much. “Oh, I like her,” he drawled. He slid his sword back into its scabbard with a casual flourish. “But if you think that little trick with the rocks is going to scare me, lass, you’re in for a rude awakening.”
“Bayne,” Nalya snapped, her tone low but cutting. “Don’t.”
But the girl’s eyes narrowed, her smirk turning feral. The stones spun faster, the air buzzing with their movement. A faint tremor rippled beneath Nalya’s boots as the ground answered the Terramancer’s rising anger.
“Parlor trick?” The girl’s voice rose, contempt dripping from each syllable. “Come a little closer, old man. Let’s see how tricky it gets.”
Nalya stepped forward, planting herself between them. “Enough!” Her voice carried the steel her title demanded, though she made sure not to sound threatening. “We’re not here to fight.”
She caught the flicker of surprise in the Terramancer’s eyes before it was replaced by more suspicion. The girl’s gaze flicked over her, then to Bayne. “Really?” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. “Then maybe you should tell your lapdog to keep his mouth shut before I bury him.”
Bayne laughed, leaning lazily against a tree. “Go ahead and try, lass. I’ve been buried before. Didn’t take.”
Nalya’s patience stretched thin. “Bayne,” she said sharply, not even looking at him. She heard him snort but didn’t wait for his reply. Instead, she focused entirely on the girl, softening her voice but keeping it firm. “We’re not following you,” she said, speaking carefully, each word measured. “We came here investigating the same thing that probably brought you. If you’d lower your guard, we might even be able to help each other.”
“Help?” The girl’s lip curled in a sneer, though there was hesitation behind it. “That’s rich, coming from a Halish noble. What’s the catch?”
Nalya took a step closer, her hands open and palms up. A risk, but one worth taking. “No catch. I swear it. The Vectoran pose a real threat to these lands, and I suspect whatever happened here is related. If you know something, we’d like to know it too. There’s no reason to shed blood.”
The girl’s sharp eyes searched Nalya’s face, and for a moment, the spinning stones wavered. The tremor in the ground stilled. “You’re not lying,” the girl murmured, almost to herself. She lowered her hands slightly, and the stones slowed, though they didn’t drop.
“Of course I’m not lying,” Nalya replied, her tone softening further, though her heart still beat fast. “I’ve seen enough destruction for one lifetime. I don’t intend to add to it. My name is Nalya. Nalya Ruus.”
The girl’s expression suddenly shifted. Nalya noticed a familiar look in her eyes. Recognition.
Behind her, Bayne groaned dramatically, breaking the fragile quiet. “Oh, don’t go all soft on me now, Lady. I was just starting to enjoy myself.”
Nalya’s jaw clenched. “Bayne,” she said again, her voice low but sharper this time.
“Fine, fine,” he grumbled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Spoil my fun.”
Nalya didn’t take her eyes off the young Terramancer as the stones dropped to the ground with a dull thud. Good. Progress. The girl’s tension hadn’t fully ebbed—her jaw remained tight, and her hands were poised for action—but at least they were talking now.
“I don’t trust you,” Ariella said flatly, her pale green eyes narrowing. “But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt—for now.” She paused.
“Good enough for me,” Nalya replied, letting her voice carry an air of calm reassurance, though her pulse still raced. She’d dealt with magi before, even volatile ones, but this one had a raw, feral energy about her—like a cornered wolf. “Now, can you tell us what you saw back there? The road, the rift—anything.”
“Ruus,” the girl said. “You’re a daughter of the House of Roses?”
“You seem fairly well-informed on Halish nobility for one of the Free Folk,” Keltz said, breaking his silence.
Bayne barked a laugh. “Lad, you’re as wet behind the ears as ever. This one ain’t Free Folk.” He cocked his head. “Shavi, is it? The accent’s rural. I’d say she’s from the Reach.”
The girl reacted as though she’d been struck. Bayne was a superstitious fool at the best of times, but his intuition when it came to reading people was almost never wrong. It was only just one of the reasons Nalya kept him around. The other being that he left her no choice. Bayne leaned forward. “So what do they call you, girl?”
The question lingered unanswered as the girl’s posture suddenly changed. Her head tilted sharply, and her body went rigid. Nalya frowned, her own senses sharpening as unease crept up her spine.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice low and steady.
She didn’t look back at her. “Something’s coming.”
Nalya’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of her sword. “What kind of something?”
Ariella’s lips parted, and for a moment, she looked apprehensive—frightened even. “Heavy,” she whispered. “Fast.”
The air seemed to confirm her words as a low, rhythmic vibration reached Nalya’s ears. It wasn’t the tremor of hoofbeats or even the deliberate march of soldiers. No, this was stranger—like a sustained rumble of thunder.
Bayne, ever the opportunist, smirked as he shifted his stance. “Sounds like trouble.”
Nalya shot him a glare. “Focus.”
The sound grew louder, the vibrations sharper, more defined. And then she heard it—a growl that didn’t belong to any animal. It was almost alive, and unlike anything she’d encountered in her short life. The air grew thick with tension as the trees along the road began to tremble and the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand at attention.
A shape emerged from the forest trail. Nalya’s breath caught.
The thing was massive—larger than any wagon she’d seen—and clad entirely in blue metal that gleamed like cobalt. It moved with an unnatural swiftness, its four enormous wheels carving deep ruts into the dirt. Its front was angular, with twin lights that glared ahead like predatory eyes, slicing through the shadows with a pale, unnatural glow. The growl came from within its chest—or what passed for one—a steady, guttural roar that rattled the air around them.
“What in the Maw is that?” Nalya muttered, her voice almost lost beneath the noise.
“It has wheels,” the girl said, her tone tinged with disbelief.
Nalya’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. It wasn’t alive, not in any way she understood. No fur, no scales, no muscles or tendons controlled those monstrous wheels. And yet, it moved with a rigid purpose that made her stomach churn.
“It’s not alive,” the Terramancer murmured, her voice thick with uncertainty. “But it’s moving. Like…” She hesitated, her gaze darting back to Nalya. “Like a construct, but I can’t sense a mantle at play.”
Was it some kind of construct? But if so, who—what—was controlling it, and how? A wave of unease swept over Nalya. Even the most powerful magi couldn’t make something like this move without leaving a trace of their mantle. She tightened her grip on her sword. “Get off the road,” she ordered, her voice sharp. “Now.”
The group scattered just as the metal beast thundered past, close enough for Nalya to feel the heat radiating from it. Dust and debris whipped at her face, and she crouched low behind a tree, her heart hammering against her ribs.
The beast’s growl softened into a low, uneven purr as it slowed to a halt several paces ahead. Nalya peeked around the tree, her jaw clenching. It sat there, motionless for a moment, its black surface gleaming in the pale morning light. Steam—or perhaps smoke—hissed faintly from somewhere beneath it, curling upward.
“Has it stopped?” Keltz asked, his voice tight.
“For now,” Nalya replied, stepping cautiously into the open. Her boots crunched against the dirt as she approached, her sword still drawn. The beast didn’t move, but its presence was oppressive, like it was watching them—waiting.
The sound of metal creaking broke the silence, and Nalya froze. A rectangular panel on the side of the beast shifted, swinging open with a sharp groan. Her breath hitched as a figure emerged from within, silhouetted against the pale light. A man no older than she. He had dark hair, pale skin, and wore strange clothing—thin fabrics with an image imprinted on them that looked both impractical and whimsical. A sigil? A banner?
A second figure emerged from the other side of the construct. A young woman, her hair a startling shade of crimson, almost unnatural against the muted tones of the forest. The memory came unbidden—a fragment of her uncle’s ramblings, one of his darker moments when the weight of his mind seemed too heavy to bear. The one with the blood as hair, who walks where the veil is frayed. I simply must have her for tea. At the time, she had brushed it aside as the incoherent musings of a man teetering on the edge of sanity. But now, staring at the girl, the words itched at the edges of her mind, refusing to fade.
For a prolonged moment, they all stared at each other in dumbfounded silence.
“Are you guys okay?” the man asked, cutting through the silence. His accent was unfamiliar, the cadence of his words strange and clipped. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. That light–” he suddenly stopped speaking as though he’d noticed something he hadn’t before.
Nalya’s grip tightened on her sword. The words were in the Aegis Tongue—or close enough to it—but they carried an edge she couldn’t place.
The man raised his hand. His eyes scanned them with a mix of wariness and something else—confusion. “Were you guys LARPing up here or something?”
Bayne’s laughter cut through the tension, low and rough. “Well,” he said, the hilt of his sword gleaming in the light. “Now it’s interesting.”
Nalya didn’t respond. Her focus remained on the man, her mind turning over questions she couldn’t yet answer. What was this? Who was this? And by the Broken Choir, what had they just stumbled into?