Dorian stepped away from the group, needing a moment to breathe and calm his racing thoughts. His footsteps echoed softly in the quiet, broken library, and he felt the weight of the recent events pressing heavily on his shoulders. He leaned against a cracked column, taking in the musty smell of old books and dust, his hand instinctively reaching up to rub the back of his neck. His thoughts were tangled—these girls, their guardedness, and whatever horrors they had witnessed in this strange world. He needed a moment to sort through it all, to focus.
Mia watched him from where she stood, caught between her friends—Kate and Ella—and the newcomer who had saved them. She could see the tension in Dorian’s shoulders, the way his jaw was clenched just a bit too tight, as if he were fighting to keep his composure. After a few minutes, he returned, his expression more composed, though a shadow of doubt still lingered in his eyes.
As he approached, Ella and Kate exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Ella finally sighed heavily and then spoke, her voice softer than before. “I’m sorry, Dorian,” she said, catching him off guard. Her tone was hesitant, tinged with genuine remorse. “I shouldn’t have been so rough on you… after you healed me and saved Kate and Mia.” She sighed again, as if releasing a burden that had weighed on her for far too long.
Dorian’s eyes softened at her words. “It’s alright,” he replied, moving closer and sitting down next to them on a dusty bench. He could see the exhaustion etched into their faces, the tension in their bodies. “I can understand that something happened here, something that made you both wary of strangers.” He paused, considering their guarded expressions, sensing the scars of recent trauma. Still, he decided to cast another round of healing on them, feeling his mana drain with each use, a subtle warmth spreading from his palms into their bodies.
Ella watched him closely, her eyes narrowing slightly as she felt the healing magic work through her body. She wanted to trust him, but trust was a rare commodity here. Dorian continued, choosing his words carefully, his voice low and measured. “Of course, I’d like to know why you have camps set up around the city,” he said, his gaze steady. “But I’m not going to pry… at least not yet. We need to establish some level of trust between us.”
He recalled an old debate from Earth—a ridiculous argument, he thought, about whether a woman would rather encounter a bear or a random man in the woods. Back then, it seemed like a pointless question, but now, in a place filled with dangers he couldn’t even name, he could understand why these girls might still prefer him over the unknown threats lurking outside.
Ella nodded slowly, her body relaxing just a fraction. “You’re right… we do need to trust each other, at least a little,” she admitted, though there was still hesitation in her voice. Her eyes flickered to Kate, seeking confirmation.
Kate continued where Ella left off, her tone measured, but with an edge of uncertainty. “But we can’t give you too much information… except that this was an exploration mission when the portal network in this world first appeared.” Her words were clipped, like she was carefully weighing every syllable.
Suddenly, a sinister voice drifted through the air, low and menacing, seeming to slither around them like a living shadow. “I smell you, little lamb,” it hissed from somewhere deeper within the library, each word dripping with malice. The voice was like a blade slicing through the stillness, sending a shiver down Dorian’s spine.
A loud crash echoed through the building, the sound reverberating off the cracked walls, as if something had broken through a door with brute force. The air seemed to grow colder, the shadows deepening, stretching longer across the ancient stone floor.
Dorian's heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins as his senses went on high alert. He glanced at Kate and saw her face drain of color, her skin turning an ashen white. She stood rigid, her eyes wide with a terror that gripped her soul.
“No…No, how is that possible?” Mia whispered, her voice trembling, her hand instinctively reaching for Kate’s arm. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for the source of the voice.
Ella grabbed Kate’s arm, her fingers digging in as she tried to shake her friend out of her trance-like state. “Kate, snap out of it!” she hissed, urgency and fear tightening her voice into a harsh whisper. Kate’s eyes remained wide and unfocused, her breathing ragged as if trapped in some horrible memory.
Dorian took a step forward, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his blade, the cool metal grounding him in the moment. “Whoever or whatever that is… it’s getting closer,” he said, his voice low and steady despite the tension coiling in his gut.
Kate’s breath quickened, and she finally managed to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… it can’t be. I thought he was dead for good,” she stammered, her words trembling on her lips. “We thought it was gone, but—”
“Who is it?” Dorian interrupted, casting a quick glance around the darkened corners of the library, his eyes scanning the shifting shadows, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice.
Ella’s grip tightened on Kate’s arm, her nails digging in. “I don’t know, but there’s no time to explain,” she said hurriedly, her voice strained. “We have to move, now!”
“But where?” Mia asked, panic creeping into her tone as her gaze darted around, searching for a way out. “It’s in the library with us!”
Dorian’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. He could feel the oppressive weight of the dark magic surrounding them, and he knew they couldn't just run blindly into the unknown. “We can’t just run. We need to figure out what we’re dealing with,” he insisted, focusing inward, searching for any remaining mana reserves he could draw upon. “Stay close to me,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And keep your eyes and ears open.”
The sinister voice called out again, closer now, and the words sent a shiver down their spines. “Little lambs… running in circles… so delicious when you’re afraid. What is this I smell? Two other scared girls, one young and pure, the other masking her bravery." The voice paused, and they heard the sound of a deep, deliberate sniff that echoed around them, chilling them to the bone. “Ah, a man… with a scent from another world. No wonder they’ve been singing of late—new prey, new meat to feast upon.”
Dorian’s pulse quickened as he spotted a flicker of movement from a nearby aisle—a shadow creeping along the wall, moving with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the fear it instilled. He raised his hand, readying a spell, but he hesitated. The shadow was too slow, too calculated… It was toying with them, playing some twisted game.
“We need to create a distraction,” he whispered to Ella, who nodded in quick agreement, her eyes wide with determination.
Ella scanned the room, her gaze darting around until it settled on a toppled bookshelf a few feet away. “I have an idea,” she muttered under her breath. “Cover me.”
Dorian moved in front of her, positioning himself between Ella and the encroaching shadow, his stance protective, his blade gleaming faintly in the dim light. “Do what you need to,” he said, his grip tightening, his muscles coiling, ready to spring into action. “I’ll buy you some time.”
Ella began to creep toward the bookshelf, her movements careful and calculated, while Kate and Mia pressed themselves against the far wall, their breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. The sound of footsteps grew louder, echoing off the ancient stone walls, each step a menacing drumbeat that seemed to shake the very air around them.
Dorian’s body was taut, every muscle ready to react. He caught a glimpse of red eyes gleaming from the darkness, and the sinister voice let out a low, mocking chuckle. “Such fragile little things… so easily broken. Your fear delights me,” it purred, the words slithering through the air like venom.
Ella reached the bookshelf, and with a grunt, pushed against it with all her strength. The heavy wood creaked, then toppled over with a deafening crash, sending a cloud of dust and splintered wood into the air. The shadow halted, momentarily thrown off by the noise, its form wavering in the dust.
“Now!” Dorian shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. They all sprinted toward the nearest exit, their footsteps pounding against the stone floor.
But before they could get far, the thing's voice rang out again, louder this time, filled with a twisted glee that made their blood run cold. “Run, little lambs… run, because you cannot hide from me!”
The floor beneath them trembled slightly, and a faint blue light flickered from the depths of the library. Shadows began to move faster, stretching and twisting along the walls, growing larger with every passing second. They could feel its presence, a dark and hungry force, closing in around them.
Kate’s heart pounded in her chest. “Dorian, what is that?” she gasped, terror creeping into her voice.
“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper, “but we need to keep moving… now.”
The creature's grin stretched wider still, jagged teeth glinting in the half-light like shards of broken glass. It advanced, limbs bending and twisting in ways that defied anatomy, moving with a grotesque grace. Shadows from every corner seemed to slide toward it, drawn as if by some malevolent magnetism, the darkness around it thickening, swallowing the weak beams of light that dared to exist in its presence.
Behind Dorian, Ella and Mia struggled with the stubborn door, their breaths frantic and shallow. Each tug and push seemed to barely budge the heavy wooden frame, which groaned under their efforts but refused to give way.
“We don’t have much time!” Kate whispered sharply, her voice edged with panic. “Dorian, you need to stall it, just a little longer!”
Dorian didn’t look back, his eyes locked onto the creature. “I’ve got this,” he muttered, though doubt clawed at the edges of his confidence. He needed something, anything, to buy them time. He opened the point store in his mind, scrolling through the options, searching for a spell that could change the course of the encounter. Two choices leapt out at him: Shatterstrike and Aegis Veil. He didn't hesitate; he bought both.
The knowledge of the spells flooded into his consciousness, almost overwhelming in its sudden intensity. Just as the creature lunged, Dorian raised his hand, and a shimmering, translucent barrier appeared before him. It looked like liquid glass, rippling as if disturbed by unseen hands, yet it felt solid, substantial.
The creature's claws struck the barrier, and the room echoed with the sound of cracking ice. Each strike sent a ripple of energy back at the creature, and with one particularly forceful blow, its arm split open with a sickening crack. It let out a howl that pierced the air, a sound filled with fury and pain.
Dorian glanced over his shoulder at Ella and Mia, still fighting with the door. “Move out of the way!” he barked, charging toward them. He planted his foot against the stubborn wood and, with a surge of strength, kicked it open. The old door flew back, slamming into the wall with a loud crash. “Go, go!” he urged, ushering them through the doorway.
They spilled into the next room, and Dorian quickly slammed the door shut behind them, shoving a broken chair and several dusty crates against it to create a crude barricade. The creature’s enraged screams echoed from the other side, a constant reminder of how close they had come to disaster.
They sprinted through what appeared to be an abandoned courtyard, their footsteps pounding on the uneven stone ground. The courtyard stretched out before them, a bleak and desolate expanse of broken stone pathways and crumbling walls. The air was thick with dust, each movement sending clouds swirling into the faint, murky light that seeped through the heavy cloud cover overhead.
The once-grand courtyard was a ghost of its former self, overgrown with wild vegetation that clawed up through the fractured flagstones. Twisted vines snaked their way up shattered columns, and patches of moss clung to every crevice. In the center stood a large, dried-up fountain, its cracked marble basin filled with debris and decaying leaves. The remnants of crates and barrels were scattered about, as if abandoned in a hurry, hinting at the area’s past as a supply depot.
As they skidded to a halt in the center, gasping for breath, a heavy thud echoed from above, making them freeze in place. Slowly, they looked up.
On the roof of the library loomed a massive panther, its fur as dark as midnight. It gazed down at them lazily, one eye half-closed, a predatory gleam shimmering in its cold, calculating stare. The beast stretched, revealing muscles rippling beneath its sleek coat, then yawned wide, showing teeth like polished daggers. Its tail flicked back and forth with a slow, deliberate rhythm.
Dorian swallowed hard, his breath catching in his throat. The ground trembled again, and a low rumble seemed to rise from the very core of the earth beneath their feet. Cracks began to spread across the courtyard’s stone floor, inching outward like spiderwebs, and the air filled with the sound of shifting rubble. Debris began to rain down from the walls, and Dorian’s heart hammered in his chest.
“We need to move. Now,” he whispered urgently, his eyes darting from the panther to the ever-widening cracks and the collapsing surroundings.
He quickly assessed their options. Three doors: one to the north, another to the east, and a final one to the west. Each door looked older and more fragile than the last, barely clinging to their frames, their paint chipped and their hinges rusted.
The ground trembled again, harder this time, and a section of the wall behind them collapsed, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air. The sound of the creature’s snarls grew louder. Behind them, the door they had just barricaded began to splinter, pieces of wood flying as something heavy struck it again and again.
“Haha! I see you, little lambs… and that ugly, stupid man-thing!” the creature hissed, its twisted limbs clawing through the splintering door.
Dorian’s eyes snapped to the northern door. It looked marginally more intact than the others. “North door! Run!” he shouted, taking off in a sprint toward it, the others close on his heels.
Ella’s watery clones flickered and faded into the mist, darting like ghostly apparitions through the dust-choked air. Their movements were quick, erratic, drawing the attention of any creature lurking nearby. The illusion seemed to work, as the panther and the other monstrous creature snapped their heads toward the fleeing mirages.
“What was that?” Dorian asked, sparing a quick glance at Ella, who was visibly drained, her face a ghostly white.
“A diversion,” she replied breathlessly. “It’s a short-lived spell... I was saving it as a last resort, but I’m out of mana now.”
Dorian gave her a curt nod, his eyes fixed on the northern door. He kicked it open with all his might, just as the creature smashed through its barricade behind them, its malevolent gaze locking onto them with burning fury. Before it could leap forward, the panther pounced from above with a feral snarl, its claws sinking deep into the creature’s flesh. The two beasts tumbled across the ground, a violent tangle of teeth and claws, their savage snarls echoing off the stone walls.
“Inside, now!” Dorian barked, flinging the door wide open. The girls rushed past him, and he quickly slammed the door shut behind them. The sounds of the brutal fight outside—roars, howls, and the splintering of wood—grew muffled as the door closed, but Dorian knew it wouldn’t be long before one or both of those creatures broke through.
They dashed down the narrow hallway, the floor creaking beneath their feet, their breathing loud and ragged in the confined space. The air was thick, almost suffocating, with a scent of mold and stale dust. Thin slivers of light filtered through cracks in the walls, casting eerie patterns on the floor ahead. As they ran, the corridor gradually widened, opening into a larger, dimly lit room that seemed relatively untouched by the chaos outside.
Ella stumbled, her legs almost buckling beneath her. Mia reached out, catching her just in time to keep her upright. Dorian turned, his voice urgent but calm. “Keep moving! We’re almost there.”
A deep rumble echoed from behind—the sound of crumbling stone and crashing debris—and, distantly, an unexpected sound—a soft, plaintive meow. Dorian froze for a split second, his heart skipping a beat. “The panther… there’s another one,” he whispered, the realization chilling him to the core. They weren’t out of danger yet.
“We need to find a way to secure ourselves,” Kate whispered, her voice quivering. “We can’t keep running forever.”
Dorian nodded, forcing his mind to focus. “We need a place to rest and regroup, even if just for a few moments,” he agreed. His eyes scanned the room ahead. It was small, its walls covered in tattered, dust-laden tapestries that might have once been vibrant. A few wooden benches lay scattered across the floor, long abandoned, their wood cracked and splintered. A narrow window high on one wall let in just enough light to reveal more broken furniture and debris. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.
Mia, still breathing heavily, glanced around with a worried expression. “This place looks like it hasn’t been touched in years,” she whispered. “But… it might be safe enough for now.”
Kate moved quickly to the center of the room and knelt, running her hands over the floor and examining it closely. “No traps,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “At least, none that I can see.”
Ella leaned against the wall, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. “We should stay quiet,” she advised, her voice low. “Whatever those things are, they’re relentless… they’ll find us if we make too much noise.”
Dorian nodded in agreement, his gaze shifting back to the door they’d just entered through. “Agreed,” he replied, his voice barely a murmur. “We need to find a way to reinforce this door, just in case.”
Mia spotted a heavy-looking piece of furniture—a large, old wooden chest covered in dust and cobwebs. “We could use this,” she suggested, already moving toward it. “It might not hold forever, but it could slow them down.”
Together, they dragged the chest to the door, positioning it as best as they could. Ella glanced around the room again, her eyes sharp, scanning every shadow. “We need to be prepared,” she whispered. “I don’t think those creatures will give up easily.”
Dorian moved closer to the narrow window, peering through the dusty glass. “If they come,” he said quietly, “we need to be ready to move again… quickly. But for now, let’s catch our breath and come up with a plan.”
Dorian's eyes darted around the dimly lit room, searching for any potential entry points or escape routes. “Barricade the door,” he instructed firmly, gesturing to the wooden benches strewn across the room. “We need to buy ourselves some time.”
Ella, Mia, and Kate sprang into action, their movements sluggish but determined. Together, they shoved the benches against the door, creating a makeshift barrier. Dorian listened carefully, straining to hear beyond the door. The faint sounds of shuffling footsteps or perhaps something far worse filtered in, growing louder in his imagination with every passing second.
“Keep your eyes and ears open,” he said quietly but with authority. “We can rest for a moment… but we stay vigilant. We have no idea how much time we have.”
Mia’s eyes darted nervously to the narrow window. “What if they find us?” she whispered, fear etching her voice.
Dorian met her gaze, trying to inject as much calm confidence as he could muster into his reply. “Then we fight,” he answered, voice steady. “And we make sure they regret it.”
He looked over at the others—tired but alive. They were running on fumes, but they needed this moment, even if just for a heartbeat. After that, they’d need a plan, something better than just running.
The low, rumbling growl of the panther echoed faintly through the walls, its sound vibrating through the stone, a cruel reminder that the danger wasn’t far away. The creature that had chased them earlier, its twisted limbs and sinister voice, might still be out there too—hunting them.
Dorian took a deep breath, forcing his own exhaustion back. He could feel the weight of fatigue pressing down on his shoulders, his limbs heavy with strain, but he refused to give in. "We have to be ready for anything," he muttered, almost to himself. His gaze flickered over to the three girls—Ella, Mia, and Kate—each one fighting against the sleep that threatened to overwhelm them.
“You three rest,” he said quietly, but firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll keep watch and wake you if we need to move.”
Ella opened her mouth to protest, a flicker of determination in her eyes, but the exhaustion won out. She sighed, nodding reluctantly and settling down against the cold stone wall, pulling her knees up to her chest. Mia and Kate exchanged a look, one that spoke of shared worry and resignation, and then they, too, slowly sank to the floor.
Mia hesitated, looking up at Dorian with concern. “You should rest too, Dorian,” she murmured. “You’ve done so much… used so much of your energy.”
Dorian shook his head. “I’m fine,” he insisted, though he could feel the weight of his own fatigue creeping in. “We can’t afford to let our guard down. I’ll be okay… just get some rest.”
Gradually, the three girls gave in to their weariness, their bodies slumping against the walls. Ella’s breathing evened out first, followed by Mia’s and then Kate’s, each of them finally surrendering to the pull of sleep. Dorian, however, remained where he was, seated near the barricaded door, his senses sharpened by the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The distant sounds of growling, the occasional scrape of claws against stone, kept him on edge—a grim reminder of the threat just outside these walls.
His grip tightened around the hilt of his knife, his knuckles white with tension. He replayed everything that had happened—their flight from the library, the monstrous creature, the panther, and the cryptic mentions of a portal network. Questions filled his mind, swirling like a storm, but there were no answers. Not yet.
He watched as the shadows danced along the walls, his gaze shifting to the old, torn tapestry that fluttered slightly in the draft. They needed to get out of this decaying city, to escape the horrors that stalked them in the dark. But how? And to where?
Suddenly, a faint rustling sound to his left made his heart leap. He turned sharply, knife poised, ready to strike. But it was only the wind, sneaking through a crack in the wall, stirring the tattered remains of the tapestry.
Dorian let out a slow, steady breath, trying to calm his racing heart. They had survived this long. They could survive a little longer… at least until dawn.
He leaned back slightly against the wall, keeping his eyes open and his ears tuned to every sound, every whisper of movement. He waited… and hoped for just a moment of peace before the next storm came, knowing that, soon enough, they would have to face whatever nightmare awaited them outside.
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-{POV Keal & Thalriss}-
Keal paced back and forth, his steps uneven and marked by a rhythmic clack as he leaned heavily on his broken staff. Frustration and concern wove into his mutterings. “He’s been gone for two days. You remember what he said, my lord… this place always brings anyone back. So either he’s dead, or he can’t return.”
Thalriss, seated on a jagged stone outcropping, regarded him with serpentine eyes that narrowed in thought. His tongue flicked out, tasting the stale air between them. “Yesss, I agree,” he hissed, his voice smooth and cold. “But if he is still alive… he is either trapped or has found something that binds him away from us.”
Keal’s grip on his staff tightened, his knuckles growing white with the force of his tension. “We should search for him,” he suggested, desperation lacing his voice.
Thalriss tilted his head, his gaze unfaltering. His voice dropped to a low whisper, vibrating through the stagnant air. "Patience, Keal… Dorian is resourceful. But… you are right. We should search for him, but where do we even begin?"
Keal halted his pacing, turning sharply to face Thalriss. “What if he’s found something? Some… treasure or knowledge that’s more valuable than getting back here? Maybe there’s a challenge he’s facing.”
Thalriss allowed himself a dry, rasping chuckle. "Perhaps… or perhaps he is in the jaws of something worse than death."
Unease flickered in Keal’s eyes. “Then… what do we do? Wait? Go after him?”
Thalriss fell silent, his forked tongue darting out repeatedly as he sampled the air, pondering the possibilities. After a moment, he finally spoke, his tone measured and deliberate. “We wait… for now. But prepare yourself, Keal. If he does not return by morning, then we will go after him. But that would mean you must repair your broken staff.”
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Keal nodded, though his expression remained grim. “Understood, my lord.”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the last slivers of daylight surrendered to the encroaching darkness. The clearing around them grew dim, the tall grass rustling softly in the evening breeze. Keal glanced up at the fading light before turning his attention to the makeshift workbench he had set up the day before. With a heavy sigh, he moved toward it, the broken staff still clutched in his hand.
The workbench was a haphazard arrangement of materials and tools, remnants of a hurried attempt to mend the staff. Keal set the staff down with care, his gaze lingering on the fractured wood and shattered metal. The task ahead was daunting, but it was necessary. As he began the painstaking process of repairing the staff, he cast frequent glances toward the darkening sky, the sense of urgency hanging heavy in the air.
The shadows lengthened, and the first stars began to twinkle faintly in the sky, their distant light offering little comfort. Keal's thoughts were consumed with worry for Dorian and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The task at hand—reparing his staff—seemed almost trivial compared to the larger question of Dorian’s fate.
Thalriss sat nearby, his eyes reflecting the last vestiges of the fading light, sharp and vigilant. “You’re determined to fix that, aren’t you?” he remarked, a hint of amusement threading through his voice.
Keal didn’t look up, his attention fully absorbed by the task at hand. “I have to,” he replied, methodically laying out the fractured pieces of his staff across the bench. “This was more than just a weapon… it’s part of my magic. Without it, I’m weaker… and we can’t afford that right now.”
Thalriss nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “Fair enough. But it’s not just the staff you should be worried about. We’re exposed out here… Dorian still hasn’t returned, and we have no idea what’s waiting for us.”
Keal began sorting through the tools he had scavenged, pulling out bits of twine, small pieces of wood, and whatever metal scraps he had managed to find. “I know,” he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. “But sitting around worrying won’t help either. At least this keeps my hands busy.”
He carefully aligned the broken ends of the staff, his hands moving with practiced precision as he began to bind them together. The cracks were deep, and the wood splintered in places, but he worked steadily, determined to salvage what he could.
Thalriss watched in silence for a moment before breaking the stillness. “Do you think he’s still alive?”
Keal paused, glancing up briefly at the darkening sky before focusing again on his work. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice filled with uncertainty. “But Dorian is resourceful… if anyone can survive out there, it’s him.”
Thalriss's gaze shifted to the encroaching darkness of the sky. “Still, we can’t wait forever. The longer we stay here, the more vulnerable we become.”
Keal nodded, his fingers deftly working to bind the staff. “I agree… but let me finish this first. Then we’ll decide our next move.”
As the night deepened, the darkness seemed to engulf the clearing, the shadows stretching into an impenetrable black. The only sound was the quiet crackle of the fire Thalriss had kindled nearby and the soft, rhythmic clink of Keal’s tools as he worked. Keal’s hands moved methodically, focused on the task despite the mounting tension.
Thalriss’s presence was like a constant, watchful shadow. His gaze remained fixed on the surroundings, alert for any sign of danger. The clearing felt increasingly isolated as the night closed in, the only light coming from the flickering fire and the distant stars.
Keal’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The urgency of their situation weighed heavily on him. Every now and then, he glanced at Thalriss, who remained as still and watchful as ever. The thought of Dorian, lost or in danger, gnawed at him, but he forced himself to concentrate on the repairs. He knew that without a properly functioning staff, they would be even more vulnerable.
As the final pieces of the staff were secured and bound, Keal’s exhaustion was palpable. He had worked tirelessly, his hands raw and tired, but the staff was now in a semblance of its former self. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, looking at the repaired staff with a mixture of relief and doubt.
Thalriss, still seated in the shadows, finally stirred. “Well done,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion but carrying an undertone of approval. “Now we need to consider our options. The staff is repaired, but our situation remains precarious.”
Keal nodded, gathering the tools and setting them aside. “I’m ready,” he said, his voice steady despite his fatigue. “Let’s decide our next move.”
The night was silent except for the distant sounds of the wilderness, and the two figures—Keal and Thalriss—prepared for whatever lay ahead. The stars above blinked coldly, and the darkness seemed to whisper promises of both danger and hope.
Keal cast another spell, his fingers moving with practiced precision as he traced an intricate pattern in the air. A soft, ethereal glow began to emanate from his palms, and molten metal flowed like liquid silver, enveloping the fractured wood of his staff. The metal seeped into the fibers, merging with the grain around the broken midsection. He held his breath, hoping that the magic would stabilize the staff.
Once the spell was complete, Keal hefted the staff, testing its weight and balance. It leaned slightly more to the right, a subtle imbalance that he could feel keenly. He cast a minor spell to test it, and the staff vibrated in his grip, shuddering as though it might give way at any moment.
“It failed,” he muttered, frustration evident in his voice. “I can manage maybe three spells before this thing blows up in my hand.” He glanced at Thalriss, who had been observing him closely.
Thalriss regarded the staff with a serpentine gaze, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “It’s better than nothing,” he said calmly. “You’ve done what you can. Rest for now, and we’ll see if Dorian returns or if we need to make other plans.”
Keal sighed, his fatigue evident as it seeped into his bones. He looked back at his makeshift workbench and then at Thalriss, who had coiled up near the dying fire, his form barely distinguishable in the fading embers. “Fine,” he conceded, “but keep an ear out. I don’t want any surprises.”
Thalriss nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly in the dim light. “Always,” he assured.
Keal moved closer to the fire and lay down on the cool ground, keeping the staff within arm’s reach. He closed his eyes, though sleep seemed elusive. His thoughts lingered on Dorian—wondering where he was, if he was still alive, and how much longer they could afford to wait. The night was quiet, save for the whispering wind and the distant sounds of the forest coming alive with nocturnal activity.
As the hours passed, the fire's light grew dimmer, and the darkness deepened. Keal’s mind was restless, plagued with thoughts of their precarious situation. Despite the warmth of the fire, the chill of uncertainty settled over him. The staff, now a fragile semblance of its former self, lay beside him, a constant reminder of their vulnerability.
In the stillness of the night, the forest's whispers seemed to grow louder, carrying with them both the promise of danger and the hope of a new dawn. Keal’s eyes remained open, vigilant and tense, awaiting the moment when they would need to act. The balance of their situation hinged on Dorian’s return or the steps they would need to take in his absence.
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-{The Next Day}-
Morning arrived with a soft, hazy light breaking through the canopy of trees, casting long, dappled shadows across the clearing. The early chill hung in the air, accompanied by the delicate sound of birdsong that echoed faintly over the rustling leaves. Keal stirred inside his small, worn tent, his muscles aching from a night of restless sleep. He yawned deeply, stretched his arms above his head, and stepped outside, blinking against the dawn's pale light.
He took a moment to survey the area, his eyes scanning the edge of the clearing for any sign of movement—any hint that Dorian had returned. The weight of anxiety settled over him when he saw no one but Thalriss, coiled in a loose circle near the remnants of their campfire, his form barely visible in the thin mist that clung to the ground. Keal’s shoulders sagged, and he let out a sigh of frustration mixed with concern.
He approached the fire pit, gathering a few scattered logs. With a muttered incantation, he summoned a small, flickering flame in his palm—a weak but functional spell. He tossed the fireball onto the dry wood, which immediately caught alight with a crackling sound, the flames bringing a comforting warmth to the cold morning air.
Thalriss uncoiled slowly, stretching out his long, serpentine body. He yawned wide, his sharp teeth glinting briefly in the firelight, and his forked tongue flicked out, tasting the morning air with a restless energy. He scanned the clearing as well, his amber eyes narrowing. The absence of Dorian was obvious, and a low, worried hiss escaped him.
“We should go look for him,” Thalriss said, his voice a low rumble filled with growing concern.
Keal nodded, rubbing the lingering sleep from his eyes. “I agree. If he hasn't returned by now… something must have gone wrong. This place… it's not kind to those who wander for too long."
Thalriss shifted his weight, his tail twitching with agitation. “He went towards the waterfall. If we’re lucky, we might pick up his trail from there. It could be dangerous, but that’s where we should start.”
Keal tightened his grip on his hastily repaired staff, feeling its faint imbalance. "Then we move quickly," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "If he's in trouble, we might be his only chance.”
They exchanged a determined glance, a silent understanding passing between them. The path ahead was fraught with risk, but leaving Dorian to fend for himself was not an option. With a final look around the clearing, they gathered their scant belongings and set off into the dense forest. The morning sun, still low in the sky, cast long shadows behind them, creating a patchwork of light and dark on the forest floor.
Keal and Thalriss moved cautiously through the dense undergrowth, the air growing warmer as they ventured deeper. The forest canopy above was thick, blocking out much of the sunlight, and casting an eerie twilight across the ground. The smell of damp earth and moss filled their senses, mingling with the occasional sweet scent of flowers that bloomed in hidden corners.
Keal’s eyes darted from side to side, his grip tightening on his staff. Every rustle of leaves, every crack of a branch made his heart skip a beat, his mind racing with the possible dangers lurking beyond sight. "Stay alert," he muttered to himself, echoing Thalriss’s earlier warning.
Thalriss slithered beside him with a fluid, silent grace, his sharp eyes continuously scanning the shadows. His voice was a low whisper, almost lost in the ambient noise of the forest. “This place is known for its illusions, for twisting paths and hiding threats in plain sight,” he cautioned. “Keep your senses sharp, Keal. This is no ordinary wood.”
Keal nodded, swallowing hard against the knot of anxiety tightening in his throat. "Do you think Dorian’s alright?" he asked, his voice betraying the worry he tried to suppress.
Thalriss hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking briefly to Keal before returning to the forest. "If anyone can make it through this place, it's him," he replied. "But we must be ready… for anything."
As they pushed further, the sound of rushing water grew louder, a low, rumbling roar that seemed to come from all directions at once. Keal's heart quickened. The waterfall was close—closer than he expected. He felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps they would find Dorian near the falls, waiting for them, unharmed.
But the forest had its secrets, and as the shadows deepened around them, Keal could not shake the feeling that they were being watched. The trees seemed to press in closer, the undergrowth growing thicker, as if trying to trap them within its depths. The air grew colder, and the light dimmed, even though the sun had risen higher in the sky.
“We’re close,” Thalriss whispered, his voice barely audible above the roar of the falls. “Stay ready… we don’t know what we might find.”
The forest had fallen into a profound, unsettling silence. Every bird song ceased, and even the gentle rustle of leaves seemed to have stilled as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. Keal's skin prickled, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "Do you feel that?" he whispered to Thalriss, his voice barely a breath in the charged air.
Thalriss's tongue flicked out, tasting the air, but before he could respond, a cold gust swept through the trees. It carried with it a faint, ghostly whisper that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. The sound was distant but unmistakably human. A chill ran down Keal’s spine, and he strained to hear the words hidden within the whisper.
Thalriss’s eyes narrowed into slits. “A warning from the forest,” he hissed, his voice low and cautious. “Something—or someone—is watching us.”
A sudden crack of a twig echoed through the quiet, making both of them tense. Keal’s head snapped to the side, where he spotted a large, sleek figure partially hidden in the shadows. A great cat, its fur as dark as midnight, sat watching them with glowing, unblinking eyes. Its muscles were taut, coiled beneath its coat, as if ready to spring at any moment.
“Gggrrr... GRRRgggRR…” it growled, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to resonate through the very ground beneath them. The cat turned its head slightly, pointing its ears in the direction of the waterfall, before looking back at them with an expression that seemed almost… calculating.
Thalriss, tense and wary, responded with a sharp hiss of his own. “SsssSSSsss, SSSSSssssss,” he replied, his body coiling tighter, ready to strike if necessary. Keal watched the exchange, understanding little of the creatures’ dialogue but knowing enough not to interfere. He remembered this feline stalking him days ago, always lurking in the shadows, and he had no desire to provoke it now.
The cat's eyes flicked again toward the waterfall, its head tilting slightly as if considering its options. “Grrr… Gggg…” it growled once more before it stood, muscles rippling under its dark fur, and slipped away into the thick underbrush, vanishing like a wraith into the shadows.
Thalriss exhaled slowly, his body relaxing but only slightly. He turned to Keal, his voice a quiet murmur. “She says to be silent. Something isn’t right past the waterfall. Something… emerged from the ground four suns ago.”
Keal swallowed hard, trying to mask his fear. "Then we’d better see for ourselves," he said, though his voice wavered slightly.
They continued cautiously, weaving through the dense foliage. The tension in the air was palpable, the forest seeming to hold its breath. The only sound now was the distant roar of the waterfall, growing louder with each step. As they moved closer, the undergrowth thickened, the trees grew taller, their gnarled roots twisting across the ground like skeletal fingers clawing out from the earth. Above, the branches wove together tightly, forming a dense canopy that blocked out much of the light, casting the forest floor in an oppressive gloom.
Keal felt a cold sweat on his brow. The air grew colder with every step, an unnatural chill seeping into his bones. "Stay close," he whispered, clutching his staff as if it were his last line of defense.
Thalriss slithered beside him, his scales brushing softly against the fallen leaves. "We are close," he murmured, his eyes scanning the shadows that seemed to close in around them.
They rounded a bend, and the waterfall came into view, cascading over a rocky ledge into a pool below. But something was amiss. The water, usually crystal clear, was now a murky, dark color, almost like liquid shadow. It swirled with a strange, unnatural glow, a faint luminescence that seemed to pulse in time with an unseen heartbeat.
Keal’s eyes widened. “What… what is that?” he breathed, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Thalriss tensed beside him, his forked tongue flicking nervously. “Something old,” he hissed softly. “Something that should not be awake.”
A deep rumble vibrated through the ground, and Keal stumbled, catching himself against a nearby tree. The water in the pool rippled violently as if something beneath the surface was stirring. For a brief moment, the murky water seemed to bulge, the surface distorting before settling again.
Thalriss’s voice dropped to a near whisper, filled with urgency. “We need to decide—now. Do we investigate further or retreat and wait for Dorian?”
Keal glanced back down the path they had come from, then back to the strange, glowing water. His instincts screamed at him to run, but a gnawing curiosity held him in place. "If something came out of the ground here… it could be important," he said, attempting to keep his voice steady. "Let's get a closer look—but be ready to run."
They edged toward the waterfall, each step deliberate, careful. The air grew colder still, a thick mist rolling off the water and creeping toward them like fingers of frost. Keal could see his breath fogging in the air, feel his heart thundering in his chest. Whatever lay beneath the surface of that water, it was aware of them. Waiting.
Thalriss glanced at him, his expression tense. “We may not have much time. Whatever it is… it knows we're here.”
A low growl broke the tense silence, echoing from behind them. Keal whipped around to see the midnight black panther once again, its eyes burning like hot coals in the dim light. Two more shadowy figures emerged from the trees behind it, their eyes glowing with the same eerie intensity.
Keal’s grip tightened on his staff, his mind racing. "Well," he muttered, his breath coming in short bursts, "looks like we’ve got company."
The panther crouched, its muscles bunching as it prepared to leap. Then two figures flanked it, moving with a predatory grace, their forms becoming clearer in the dim light. They were two younger panthers A sense of malice emanated from them, palpable in the air.
Thalriss coiled tighter, preparing to strike. "Stay ready," he whispered. "They are not friends."
The panthers let out a low, menacing growl began to advance slowly. Keal knew they were outnumbered, and his hastily repaired staff felt like a fragile twig in his hand. He cast a quick glance at Thalriss, then at the shadowy figures approaching them.
----------------------------------------
-{POV Kate}-
Kate awoke to the faint, flickering light filtering through the cracks in the walls. The room was dim, cloaked in shadows, and the air was heavy with the musty scent of dust and old wood. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she saw Mia and Ella still asleep beside her. Mia’s head rested gently against Ella’s shoulder, her face serene in the stillness of sleep. The two seemed untouched by the chaos that had unfolded around them.
Her gaze shifted to Dorian, who was slumped against the far wall. Exhaustion had finally overtaken him; he had passed out at some point. Despite his deep sleep, his hand still clutched his knife, a symbol of his readiness or perhaps his lingering fear. It was both a reassuring and unsettling sight.
Kate stretched her limbs quietly, trying not to disturb the others. Her muscles ached from their frantic escape and the constant tension. She took a deep breath, pushing down the fear that had coiled tightly in her stomach. They needed answers, a way out, a plan… something to hold onto.
A sudden thought struck her, and she glanced toward the shadowed corner of the room, where another door stood slightly ajar. She hadn't noticed it in the chaos of their arrival. The door was old and weathered, its paint peeling and curling away from the wood beneath. An air of mystery surrounded it, and she couldn’t help but wonder where it led.
Carefully, she got to her feet, her boots making a faint creaking noise on the old floorboards. She hesitated for a moment, considering waking one of them to accompany her, but decided against it. They needed their rest, and besides, she was more than capable of handling herself.
She moved toward the door, her fingers brushing against the hilt of her dagger as she gently pushed it open. The creak of the hinges seemed loud in the stillness, and she peered into the darkness beyond. The room seemed even darker, the air colder. Kate felt a shiver run down her spine, but her curiosity outweighed her hesitation. She needed to uncover more about their surroundings—and what lay ahead.
Stepping quietly, she slipped through the door, leaving it slightly ajar behind her. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she could make out a narrow hallway stretching into the gloom. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she took a deep breath and moved forward, her senses straining for any sign of danger.
She whispered to herself, “Just a quick look… then I’ll head back.” But deep down, she knew that each step forward could bring her closer to peril—or perhaps the answers they so desperately needed.
Kate moved cautiously down the corridor, her footsteps muted on the cold, stone floor. The air grew colder as she approached the end of the hallway, where a door seemed to beckon with an almost magnetic pull. Its worn wood and rusty hinges suggested it hadn’t been opened in years.
With a deep breath, Kate pushed the door open. It groaned in protest, the sound echoing slightly in the corridor. The room beyond was a stark contrast to the rest of the library. It was vast, its size almost overwhelming compared to the cramped spaces she had navigated so far. Her breath misted in the cold air as she stepped inside.
The space was dominated by the remnants of a broken portal network. The stone frame lay shattered, fragments and runes embedded in the walls and scattered across the floor like discarded puzzle pieces. The debris seemed to whisper of a grand design now reduced to ruin. Among the wreckage, skeletal remains were strewn across the floor—bones of men, women, and children. Some wore rusted armor, now little more than corroded scraps clinging to their bones. The sight of the skeletal remains, once presumably part of something greater, was haunting and solemn, underscoring the gravity of their situation.
Kate’s gaze was drawn to the center of the room, where an eerie blue glow emanated from the remains of the shattered portal. The glow centered around a frozen flower, suspended in mid-air within the portal's fractured frame. The flower’s petals were crystalline, shimmering with an otherworldly light that seemed to defy the dimness of the room. The blue hue cast long, wavering shadows across the scattered bones and debris, creating an unsettling play of light and dark.
The chill in the room seemed to increase as she approached, an unnatural cold that seeped into her bones and made her breath visible in the frosty air. Kate recalled the warnings from her teachers about such artifacts—never to touch or disturb them. The frozen flower was something she had only encountered in old texts, rumored to be a relic of immense power and danger. It was said that such objects could alter reality or awaken ancient forces best left undisturbed.
She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. The flower seemed to pulse gently, as if alive, its light flickering in rhythm with her racing heartbeat. The silence of the room was almost oppressive, as though it were holding its breath in anticipation of her next move.
With a deep breath, she slowly backed away, her eyes never leaving the glowing flower. She needed to alert the others and find a way to investigate this discovery safely. The artifact’s significance was undeniable, but she had to ensure she didn't fall victim to whatever powers it might wield.
As she turned to leave, Kate couldn’t shake the feeling that the room was watching her, the shadows shifting imperceptibly. The knowledge of what lay before her was both thrilling and terrifying. She moved quickly, her steps echoing loudly in the quiet as she made her way back to the others.
Kate hurried back to the room where Dorian, Mia, and Ella were resting. As she entered, she saw Dorian stirring, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something—or someone. His gaze locked onto Kate with a mixture of relief and confusion.
“Kate,” he said, his voice heavy with sleep and concern. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Before Kate could respond, she noticed a strange phenomenon: the tattoo on Dorian’s forearm, which resembled the trunk of a tree, was pulsing with a soft blue light. The glow was faint but unmistakable, and it seemed to pulse in synchrony with some hidden rhythm.
Dorian’s eyes followed Kate’s gaze to his tattoo. “This feeling…” he began, his voice trailing off as he stood up abruptly, seemingly compelled by an unseen force. He began walking down the hallway with determined strides.
Ella, now fully awake and alert, watched Dorian’s unusual behavior with a mix of concern and curiosity. She rubbed her eyes and asked, “Where’s he going? And—” she fixed Kate with a sharp, knowing look. “You found something, didn’t you?”
Kate nodded, her expression a blend of excitement and worry. “I found a frozen flower. It’s what we were tasked with. It’s significant, but…”
Before she could elaborate further, Ella and Mia joined her, their curiosity driving them to follow Dorian down the hallway. The air seemed to grow colder with each step they took, and the blue glow from Dorian’s tattoo intensified, pulsing rhythmically as though it were responding to something beyond their sight.
When they reached the room, they found Dorian standing still, his gaze fixed on the center of the broken portal. The frozen flower glowed with an ethereal blue light, its presence both mesmerizing and foreboding.
Dorian’s eyes widened in recognition as he whispered, “A frozen tear.”
The room seemed to hold its breath, the atmosphere charged with an unspoken tension. The significance of the artifact and the strange connection to Dorian’s tattoo added layers of mystery to their quest. Kate, Ella, and Mia exchanged glances
Kate stepped closer, her curiosity piqued by the intense glow of the frozen flower. “What do you mean?” she asked, glancing between the mesmerizing bloom and Dorian.
Dorian’s voice was a mix of awe and hesitation as he replied, “Do you know what these flowers represent?” He didn’t turn to face them, his eyes locked on the glowing flower.
“It’s an ancient artifact—a frozen tear,” Kate explained, her voice laced with apprehension. “Legends say it has the power to... well, influence time and reality itself. It’s said to be incredibly powerful and dangerous.”
Ella’s eyes widened, a mixture of fear and realization in her gaze. “If that’s true, then we need to be extremely careful. We don’t know what kind of effects it might have, or if it could attract unwanted attention.”
Kate nodded in agreement. “We should approach this with caution. The room felt... alive. It’s as if the artifact is somehow aware of us.”
Dorian turned to face Kate and the others, his expression grim and serious. “Maybe if you use it like that, but there’s more to these flowers than just their surface power. I’ve already encountered two of these artifacts before.”
“WHAT?” Kate exclaimed, her voice betraying her shock. “How have you already found two of these ancient artifacts?”
Dorian’s gaze remained fixed on the crystalline flower at the center of the broken portal frame. “I can show you why they’re called ‘frozen tears,’” he said, extending his hand towards the flower. As he did, the tattoo on his forearm began to glow a pure, intense blue. The light from the tattoo caused the flower to shimmer and bloom in response, casting an ethereal radiance across the room.
Kate and Ella’s anxiety heightened as the flower’s light intensified. “What are you doing? Stop!” Ella’s voice was urgent and trembling with fear.
“Dorian, stop—” Kate’s protest was abruptly cut off as the flower fully bloomed. A misty blue aura erupted from it, quickly enveloping the room. The mist swirled and coalesced into ghostly images of people, standing eerily still, their forms partially obscured by the fog.
Mia clutched Kate’s hand tightly, her eyes wide with a mix of confusion and terror. “What is this?”
From within the swirling mist, disembodied voices and whispers began to rise, merging into a haunting cacophony of sound. The echoes of the past filled the room, intertwining with distant screams and the rumbling of an unseen force.
“Mommy, I’m scared,” a child’s voice wailed plaintively from the mist.
“One at a time!” a stern voice commanded, trying to impose some semblance of order on the chaos.
The whispers grew louder, forming a chilling chorus of voices blending together: “Dear, why aren’t they letting us through?”
The atmosphere in the room became almost suffocating, as if the very air was charged with a palpable sense of dread. Images of people—some in tattered clothing, others in ancient armor—appeared, frozen in time but clearly distressed. Their faces reflected a spectrum of fear, anger, and desperation. The echoes of their voices reverberated off the walls, each word contributing to the overwhelming sense of despair that permeated the room.
Kate, Ella, and Mia stood frozen, their senses overwhelmed by the spectral manifestations and the intense emotions they conveyed. The significance of the frozen flower and the ghostly figures before them was both awe-inspiring and deeply unsettling.
Dorian looked around the room, his expression dark and somber. “It also shows the grief of those who lived through these moments. It’s like a memory trapped in time.”
Ella’s eyes darted around, her confusion evident. “I… I don’t understand,” she said, her voice trembling as the ghostly figures continued their disjointed interactions, their voices merging into a haunting murmur.
Kate leaned closer to Ella, her voice barely a whisper. “Why don’t we know about this?”
Ella turned to her friend, her face a mix of concern and curiosity. “We were tasked to find one of these frozen flowers,” Kate explained, trying to recall their mission details. She glanced at the spectral child sobbing in the corner. “You can take it, but at least witness these moments before they fade away,” she said softly, as if speaking directly to the spirits ensnared in their sorrowful plight.
Dorian’s gaze remained fixed on the spectral scene. “This is more than just a record. It’s a manifestation of the pain and fear that these people experienced. It’s a powerful artifact, and understanding it is crucial.”
As they observed, Kate noticed a disturbing change in the atmosphere. The bluish-white light of the portal began to darken, shifting to a menacing shade of purple. A low, hissing sound filled the room, and Kate’s eyes widened in alarm as shadowy figures started to emerge from the portal.
The figures were grotesque, with six limbs and twisted forms. They moved with a predatory grace, their bodies writhing and shifting unnaturally. Two of them pierced through the bodies of the ghostly figures with horrific ease, their screams echoing through the mist.
“What’s happening?” Ella’s voice quivered as she clung to Kate.
“Remember, this is just a memory,” Dorian said, his voice steady despite the terrifying scene unfolding around them. “Nothing can hurt us here, so just observe for now.”
The group watched in grim silence as the monstrous entities continued their horrific assault. They tore people limb from limb or transformed them into twisted, grotesque versions of their former selves. Those who weren’t immediately killed were hurled into the shattered remnants of the portal frame, vanishing into its dark depths. The portal frame itself began to crack and tremble violently. With a deafening explosion, stone shards flew through the air, piercing the remaining figures. The explosion's force threw them against the walls, their bodies collapsing amidst a pool of blood and debris.
In the midst of the chaos, their attention was drawn to a young man lying near the portal frame. Tears streamed down his face, and the tears seemed to flow upwards towards the portal. The overwhelming sadness emanating from him was palpable, his anguish reaching across time and touching the hearts of those who watched.
“The weavers,” the young man whispered through his tears, his voice barely audible. “But why?”
The memory flickered, and the misty aura that had surrounded the frozen flower began to flow back into it. The scenes of violence and sorrow slowly faded, leaving only the dim, mournful light of the flower and the remnants of the tragedy that had unfolded.
As the memory dissolved into silence, the room fell eerily still once more. The frozen tear, now a faint, glowing blue, pulsed softly, holding the weight of the tragic history within it.
Dorian turned to the group, his face a mixture of sorrow and resolve. “You’ll be able to place it anywhere now,” he said, gesturing to the frozen tear. “My power unlocked the memory within it. If you do take it, I only ask that you show people in your own world the memory that was forgotten.”
With that, Dorian left the room, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. Kate, still shaken by the scenes she had witnessed, looked at the frozen flower in the center of the room. Her gaze was drawn to the lifeless body lying near the shattered portal frame, a stark reminder of the tragedy that had unfolded.
Ella, her face pale and troubled, nodded in agreement. “We need to find out more about these ‘weavers’ and why they’re connected to the portal network. There’s a deeper mystery here that we can’t ignore.”
Kate looked at the body and the damaged portal frame, her mind racing with the implications of what they had just learned. “We should document what we’ve seen here and try to learn more about the weavers,” she said resolutely. “There’s a lot more to uncover, and we need to be prepared for whatever comes next.”