TurtleMe

Soul Forged: Chapter 5

Added 2025-08-22 17:55:16 +0000 UTC

The tremor that rumbled through the skybridge sent vibrations up my legs as I pressed my forehead to the quivering window glass. All I could see of the rift from this angle was the distant glow behind the mechanics of the containment ring. It spun so fast it was a silver streak across my retinas, working overtime to process and contain the raden issuing from the rift.

The rolling thunder faded to a low hum, and I straightened, looking to Seth at the window beside me. “Come on,” he ordered, his brows pinching together to form a sharp V.

Eager to get off the bridge, I followed double time.

On the other side, we found Tower One’s hallways filled with engineers and scientists. They crowded around the stairwells and elevators, creating a messy queue as everyone tried to reach the auditorium and hear President Valera’s explanation for the alert. Another round of flashing lights caused the press of employees to shift and murmur nervously. Monitors along the hallways displayed maps of Tower One with the same instructions: “Keep calm. Power surge expected. Proceed to the auditorium. Keep calm…”

“What’s going on?” I heard anxious people around us ask each other.

“It’s nothing.”

“I hear the rift is acting up.”

“Is it collapsing? Or leaking? Should we be evacuating right now?”

“If that ring comes down, we’re dead.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! That’s not possible.”

“Torrin…” My brother caught me by the shoulder and whispered, “Mind your footing.”

I rolled my eyes, but Seth’s straightforwardness sliced through the paranoia rising like steam all around us.

Operational staffers walked up and down the shifting lines, occasionally asking for badges. One stopped beside us the second he noted Seth.

“Just a moment, ardent.” The man appraised Seth’s ID card and consulted with his phone screen. “Ah, Mr. Gray, good.” He glanced at me. “And… is this your brother?”

“Yes. Seth and Torrin Gray,” my brother replied, while I held up my laminated card.

Another tap on the phone. “Report to the security office. Both of you.”

He raised a finger and signaled a guard, who rushed to our side.

“This way, please.”

We arrived at a security elevator, where a different guard checked our clearances—mostly mine. We boarded the lift by ourselves, and as it climbed, we heard President Valera over the elevator’s loudspeakers, his address broadcast for those still making their way to the auditorium.

“At approximately 1:24 p.m., a pulse of radiation energy emanated from the Lightbridge rift. Our protective halo safely defused the surge, and the only side effect was a slight blip in the buildings’ power. Thanks to the work and wizardry of everyone in this room, each of our many safeguards functioned flawlessly. A round of applause for yourselves, everyone!”

The elevator stopped, and we were guided into a wide, heavily windowed room that overlooked the auditorium beneath us. TV screens and computer monitors cast ghostly light across the dim, overcrowded office. Cramped in the far corner, Jace raised a beckoning hand.

“We will now take questions,” the president said on one display as Seth and I wove through the desks. “Yes, you, from CENN?”

I suspected all the journalists were pre-selected, and sure enough, some of their questions were being typed on the monitor in front of me.

“You made it,” said a voice to our right.

Colter Valera blocked our way to Jace, exchanging a stiff nod with Seth by way of greeting.

Colter’s green eyes flicked to me. “Congratulations on your promotion, Torrin. Quite the timing.”

“Should I be here?” I asked, noticing that I was the only boneforger in the room.

“We’re short on support staff,” Colter answered. “Most of the other forgers are hauling equipment to the roof.”

“Ardents,” came a smoker’s bark. Jonathan “Jack” Hawthorne—a former Marine turned ardent, now COO of the Valera Conglomerate—stepped into the ring of lights at the room’s heart.

He scanned the room with beady eyes. “I’ll keep this brief. Everyone already knows about the raden surge; what they don’t know is that a bunch of engineers were trapped inside when things went FUBAR. They went radio silent around the time the first shockwave was measured. We need you to go inside the rift, rescue any survivors, determine what caused this nonsense, and report back the moment you’re convinced the rift is safe.”

“That rift’s clear of parabeasts. Why send ardents?” asked Fintan Calhoun, a pale figure in the corner with deep-set cobalt eyes.

“We’re not babysitters,” agreed his heavily tanned, barrel-chested brother, Gavin, fingers tapping a bored rhythm on the butt of the shard gun holstered on his hip. I normally avoided the pair of them. Gavin swaggered like he’d just sauntered out of a gunslinger movie, and I’d heard rumors Fintan liked to play with dead things.

“You’re whatever the hell we need you to be, ardent,” Hawthorne spat. The COO wasted no further time on the Calhouns. “Per protocol, we had multiple ardents with the engineers inside the rift. Since they haven’t reported back, we have to assume that whatever happened there requires extra muscle. You’re our first responders. If you find something alive in there that isn’t human, kill it. Ardent Valera will have overall command. A second team of engineers and carvers will follow once you’ve given them the green light. That’s your assignment. Any questions?”

“None, sir,” Colter answered.

Hawthorne studied the gathered faces. “Anyone?” When silence answered, he thumped his heels together. “Dismissed.”

Jace pushed his way to us in the shuffle toward the door. “That wins the award for weirdest briefing. Total cluster. And I’ve made it clear I don’t work with the Calhouns. Somebody is more worried than they’re letting on, don’t you think?”

He rattled on, clearly not expecting an answer. I knew nothing, and Seth considered most questions rhetorical.

I let out a shaky breath as we left the room. A raden surge strong enough to shake the towers? Missing ardents and engineers on a supposedly routine job? Nothing about this boded well.

Seth seemed unaffected, but I knew he had his reservations. Primarily, about my involvement. No matter how well he wore that unflinching mask, I knew he was upset.

We crammed into the security elevator with half the rescue team, then plodded through the lower halls in double file, following Colter and his second in command, Rhea Dunn, in the front. The service elevators to the roof were across the tower, forcing us to pass the auditorium and the ongoing briefing.

Unfortunately, two well-dressed reporters had been milling near the doors and spotted us. They slipped outside and intercepted us just before we reached the elevators.

“Colter Valera!” the twenty-something female reporter heralded, eyes shining like she’d seen her favorite boy band. “Seth Gray!”

“Of course,” Colter sighed under his breath.

Rhea stopped when he did, toying with the handles of her twin axes. She was a tank of a woman, with a severe half-shaved haircut, an even harsher jaw, and hard hazel eyes that stood out against her mahogany skin.

“Mister Valera,” said the middle-aged male reporter, shoving a microphone at Colter and craning his neck a little to give Rhea a nervous glance, “Richard Heartman from NWB, can I ask you a couple questions…?”

Colter put on a bright smile. “Sure. I’ll answer if I can.” He glanced back at Rhea. “Make sure the helos are loaded and the team is ready.”

Rhea hesitated, her eyes affixed to the back of Colter’s head. After a tense moment, she spun back around, moving on the pads of her booted feet like a predator. “You heard him. Move!”

“Seth, Seth!” the woman said breathlessly as she slipped around Richard Heartman. “I’m Jade Janowitz from The Scene, can I—” Her face fell as Seth put up a stiff hand like a blockade by his face, eschewing her with a firm, “No.”

He blazed past her, and I had to hurry to keep up.

The Scene? How had a tabloid journalist even snuck in here? She must have some great fake credentials.

Once we were some distance from the reporters, Seth grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me beside one of the auditorium’s many exits, letting the team forge on without us. “I need to tell you something,” he started.

“Whatever it is, I already heard it,” I parried, pointing at the new bruises I felt puffing my face. “It left quite a mark, in fact.”

Seth shook his head with a low grumble, then went rigid. Following his eyes, I turned around to see Hanna sneaking out of the amphitheater.

“What are you doing here?” asked Seth as he hurried over, his hand brushing lightly along the side of her belly when he reached her.

“I had to stretch my legs, so I was standing in the back and saw you pass by.” Hanna intertwined her fingers with Seth’s, then noticed me, and her face fell. “Jesus, what happened to you?”

“You should see the other guy,” I managed, smiling.

Hanna shifted widened eyes toward my brother who, without missing a beat, continued, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“They wouldn’t let me leave until I attended this briefing,” she huffed. “If you even want to call it that. There’s nothing brief about it, and the whole thing sounds like fluff.”

“Really?” I asked.

Hanna nodded. “They said no security systems were affected by the surge, but we lost power in the lab for several minutes. We had no working lights, no environmental controls… no security! Dr. Long had to hold one of the containment units closed with his bare hands. The poor guy got stung! He’ll be fine in a few days, but still!”

Seth glared at me as if Hanna’s presence in the towers was my idea.

Fortunately, Hanna read both our faces fluently. “Stop that,” she chided, smoothing his worn, olive-colored cloak over his shoulders. It was the first birthday gift she’d given him after they started dating. “It’s over now. Let’s get Isla home. She’s going stir crazy in there.”

“I can’t,” said Seth, bringing Hanna’s hand up to his cheek when she tried to tug him along.

“We can’t,” I corrected.

“Why not?” Hanna looked us over, brows furrowing. “What’s going on?”

Seth straightened up and said, “We’re needed in the rift.”

“Both of you? Oh.” She tried to rearrange her face into a smile for me. “First time on the new job, huh?” Her mouth tightened, struggling to stay upturned as she looked to Seth. “What exactly is the job?”

Seth parted his lips but no sound escaped.

“Just going in to check on some engineers,” I interjected.

“Oh.” Hanna’s shoulders loosened. She let go of Seth to squeeze my arm, nose scrunching in a more genuine smile. “Well, show them what you can do, just like you did in the lab today. Play to your strengths; you’ve got plenty of them.”

I squirmed under her cheery praise.

“His trouble is that taking solid advice isn’t one of them,” said Seth flatly.

“Nah, just taking yours,” I shot back. “I always listen to Hanna.”

“And you listen to me good,” she said, wagging a finger at Seth’s nose as she pushed herself up on tiptoes. “Don’t take too long.” She pecked his lips. “And let Torrin be Torrin. He’s got this.”

Seth captured her scolding finger between both palms and gave her hand a parting squeeze. “I’ll see you at home,” he said, making no promises to obey. We left Hanna and sprinted toward the elevators. Colter was standing beside the nearest one, sharing some last words with the reporters.

“We’ll see what happens,” he laughed, leaning inside the elevator door frame, totally at ease. “Enjoy the rest of the briefing.”

I caught his eye with a waving hand and mouthed, “Hold it.”

Colter kept his arm braced on the door and twisted aside for us.

“Thanks,” I acknowledged as the doors closed.

“Sure thing.” Colter pushed the button for the rooftop. “Why aren’t you two with the squad?”

“Torrin shouldn’t be on this mission,” Seth said, ignoring Colter’s question.

Although I’d been waiting for it, I still found myself wordless with anger and embarrassment.

“He’s not trained for this,” Seth continued, “and we’re going in blind. Send him in with the engineers after us. They could use him.”

“No.” I found my voice and looked Colter dead in the face. “I’m not part of the clean-up crew anymore.”

Colter appraised me briefly, but his eyes bounced back to Seth. “I see your point, but I need every available body, raden or not. The Conglomerate is hitting this hard and fast. They’ve even pulled in freelancers for last-minute replacements. I’m sure you understand how much is at stake if this turns into a bigger problem.”

“And if we send in people who aren’t prepared, we’ll have a bigger body count on our hands if things go badly,” Seth countered.

Boiling over with anger, I opened my mouth to defend myself again.

Colter exhaled through his nostrils and looked at me. “You tell me. Are you ready for this?”

“I—yes. One hundred percent,” I pledged.

“Good,” said Colter, facing the door as the elevator stopped. He held up a hand to forestall any more arguments from Seth. “Let’s join our teammates.”

The second the doors opened, the headwind sweeping across the roof blew rain into my face. Seth and Colter each raised glowing arms, evaporating the raindrops into an amber cloud of steam and raden.

The Calhouns and a few other ardents were pulling hide or bone pauldrons, vambraces, and gauntlets over their standard uniform leathers, standing in a shared aura that shielded them from the rainstorm like a canopy. Hanging above it all, the golden wheel of the Lightbridge rift shed dim light across both tower rooftops.

I raced between Seth and Colter past dozens of men and women in bright yellow reflective vests, interspersed with ardents, boneforgers, and medics, all loading up. Rhea stepped out of the aura to meet us, heedless of the driving rain.

“Last of the equipment coming up now,” she said, jerking her head toward a steady stream of techs tossing black duffle bags into a series of dropships. “Most of the crew have already boarded and are getting geared.” She stepped closer to Colter, side-eyeing me and the distant carriers with a frown line between her brows. “Kind of a mixed bag. What stuffed shirt put this together?”

“It’s all hands on deck, Rhea,” was all Colter said as he marched past her.

I exchanged a quick glance with Seth, but if he had any issue with Rhea’s grievances, he didn’t give any indication.

Rhea stalked off after Colter, and without looking back at us, tossed a thumb at one of the quadcopter personnel carriers lined up by the eastern ledge. Seth led the way, and a bedraggled young woman checked our names off a list.

“Seth Gray.” A woman sashayed between us and the loading stairs. “Didn’t realize we’d have ardent royalty with us on this job.” Black hair tumbled in waves around her face, framing heterochromatic eyes: one so dark it was almost onyx, the other the warm gold of raden.

“Priscilla,” said Seth, hardly looking at her.

Her lips twitched into a Mona Lisa smile, and she played with the pommel of a dagger, one of many that were sheathed in a harness around her torso. “Always such a sour puss,” she tsked, reaching up like she might shuck his chin, but he jerked his jaw away. Priscilla only laughed—a throaty, velvet sound—and passed us by, calling out, “Hey, Leon, what happened to retiring? I thought last time I saw you, you said, and I quote…”

But I missed whatever Leon had said as we loaded up into the carrier, our boots making metallic clangs down the aisle between the jump seats bolted into the walls. A handful of other boneforgers, one medic, and a couple of ardents were already inside, including Jace, and I dropped into the free seat beside him, sandwiched between him and Seth.

“Torrin.”

I’d bent to unzip my duffel but looked up at the sound of my name to find Taj walking up from the back with two forger kits in tow. He nodded. I nodded back.

“Didn’t know you’d been promoted.” I couldn’t read his tone, but he handed me one of the kits to supplement the supply in my duffel, and I decided to take it as a friendly gesture.

“Thanks. Yeah. Right after we talked yesterday, actually. In the rift.”

“Huh,” was all he said back.

Behind him, I noticed some other boneforgers were busy pulling on their clothes or adjusting their equipment. I busied myself doing the same, stripping out of my stinking gym clothes as Seth pulled his white-plated armor from his own bag. This wasn’t the first time I’d changed in front of people—it was an occupational hazard—but normally there was a little more room for privacy than the dropship seats provided. I felt eyes on me as I pulled long johns woven from parabeast fibers up over my hips. I peeked up to meet the black and yellow gaze of Priscilla settling in across from me and quickly pulled a long-sleeved para-fiber shirt over my head. An older guy with a wispy blond mustache and close-cropped military haircut flanked her, holding a bone war hammer with a spiked head the size of a bull’s head like it was nothing as he rewrapped the leather grip on the shaft.

Pull yourself together.

“Aw look, bro, baby Gray is blushing,” said Gavin as he and Fintan passed in the aisle. He shot me a shit-eating grin, flashing teeth so white and square they looked like pieces of peppermint gum.

“Baby…?” Fintan’s face scrunched up until Gavin drew a pointed line at me with his eyes. A spark of understanding opened Fintan’s expression with a soft, “Oh.” He chuckled, low in his chest, almost nervous.

Gavin joined in, nodding along, and then said through his fixed smile, “You have no idea what’s funny, do you?” He smacked Fintan’s chest with a hard backhand. “He’s simping over Priscilla, numbnuts.”

“Not as hard as you, though, right, Gavin?” said Jace.

I released the breath I was holding and shot him a grateful glance, but he was busy staring Gavin down with a taunting brow cocked.

Priscilla laughed, and this time the sound was tinkling bells. She levelled a savage smile on Gavin—more a baring of teeth—then softened to wink at me. “Baby Seth has a better shot.”

“Oh yeah?” For a second, Gavin turned to me with chest puffed like a posturing pitbull, then took a look at Seth’s granite scowl and thought better of it, angling toward the back of the carrier as he snapped, “Well, if the Red doesn’t die, we’ll see how that works out. Come on, Fintan.”

Neck hot, I yanked stained overalls over my underclothes, wishing that I could just fade into the background like I usually did. Sneakers swapped for boots, I strapped on my heavy jacket, the pockets already laden with my personal equipment. I pulled on my goggles, letting them dangle around my neck as I transferred the best items from the prepped kit into my personal pack. Zipping up the bag, I set it across my lap and waited.

“You’re a Red?” asked the ardent with the war hammer, shoulder brushing Priscilla’s as he leaned forward like he wanted a closer look at the monkey in the zoo. He scoffed in the back of his throat, shook his head as he retreated, and said, “Cannon fodder. We’re all cannon fodder.”

“Excuse Leon,” Priscilla told me. “He hasn’t been laid in a very long time. Unless you count getting screwed by the system. According to him, anyway.”

The dark glower he aimed at her reminded me of Seth, and I almost chuckled… before a familiar voice near the front said, “I’m with Leon.”

Matthew pinned me with that same vindictive glare he’d used when I corrected his spear extraction technique. “Who let the Red on?” he asked, nudging Arnold, who was buckling into the seat beside him. “We wait around for him to fix our weapons, and we’re all dead.”

“If you end up dead, it’s because you don’t know when to stop running your mouth,” said Jace, pleasant as a summer breeze, though his smile was a slash of winter ice.

Bolstered by Jace’s support, I met Matthew’s eye with my own challenge—a neutral, confident stare I dared him to try and crack.

Seth leaned into me, holding his sheathed sword in one hand. “Ignore them. We both know your forging skills aren’t the issue. Focus. Remember your training.”

Was that… almost a compliment?

Someone beat against the side of the carrier, and outside several people in yellow vests began backing away. My nerves jumped as the pilot announced our immediate take off.

Ahead, the lead dropship’s engines roared, and four sheathed rotors lifted it off the landing pad. A couple dozen feet up, it banked away, providing room for the second carrier to go airborne. I instinctively grabbed the edge of my seat in the seconds before our craft followed, the third of four.

The dropship bucked as the rotors whirred. The headwind grabbed the aircraft and shook it. My heart leapt into my throat, and I instinctively looked to Seth, his profile staring straight ahead, his body language comfortable. Nothing to worry about. The craft stabilized in seconds.

A snicker drew my attention to the Calhouns, Gavin side-eyeing me as he mumbled into Fintan’s ear. Leon huffed at me, upper lip curled as he drew back his boots like I might be sick on them.

I swallowed heavily and looked out the window.

The rift dominated my vision. Girders and gangways connected its containment ring to both Tower roofs, providing a frame for the series of mechanical equipment and piping that Conglomerate engineers and scientists accessed daily. However, the spider web of scaffolding and stairs wasn’t ideal for transporting a troop of heavily laden ardents and boneforgers up to the rift.

The containment ring purred like it should, barely audible beneath the whirring of the dropship rotors. Maybe whatever mechanical issue had caused the power surges was already resolved. I tried not to think of myself as a coward for hoping that it had all just been some kind of crazy misunderstanding, and that we were going to step into that rift and find a bunch of confused researchers going about their business, ignorant of the stir they’d caused.

The first of the carriers was already aligning itself between two identical dock-like platforms that allowed for the delivery of equipment too heavy for the gangways. Despite the rainstorm, the aircraft hung right at the receiving platform’s edge as if strung up by unmoving chains.

I recognized Rhea Dunn when she jumped down first, but as our ship lifted higher to avoid the nest of cabling, I couldn’t make out who was who as equipment bags and ardents came out behind her. We waited for the first two carriers to unload, hovering near the center of the rift. In the dim light, surrounded by mist and hovering a thousand feet in the air, it was like staring into the eye of some giant monster of myth. Except that wasn’t right, it was more like a mouth, about to swallow us all and drop us into—

I cut these thoughts off, forcing myself to breathe. I signed up for this, I reminded myself. I’ve been in over a dozen rifts. This one isn’t any different.

While we waited, I busied myself by checking my various pockets and the partitions of my pack to ensure I had everything I needed. I was running low on solvent, not having had time to make any more since the rift yesterday, but otherwise I was in good shape. If there were parabeasts inside this rift, my primary role would be to make on-the-fly repairs to equipment, retrieve spears from fallen parabeasts, and harvest certain valuable components that wouldn’t last once the beasts were dead.

My stomach lurched as the dropship began to descend toward the steel mesh receiving platforms. At a word from the pilot, the ardents shot to their feet. Seth was first to leap out into the elements. When the others followed, boneforgers began passing up bags from the back of the ship. Taj and I ended up at the door, tossing the bags down. Once that was done, Taj leapt out without hesitation.

The wind tugged at my vest and drove stinging rain into my eyes. One after another, the other forgers and the medic hopped down to the platform. Seth helped catch and stabilize them, but after every one, his gaze jumped to me and vibrated with a look that said, Just stay. Go back with this carrier to Tower One. The shame is better than being dead.

I hated that I could read him that well.

Gritting my teeth, I gripped the rail running along the top of the sliding bay door and used it to throw myself out of the quadcopter.

The wind caught me, and I flailed. Seth’s fist snatched the front of my jacket, and my feet hit the platform lightly. With a curt nod, he let me go, turning to push his way through the cluster of auxiliary team members toward the front, where Colter was shouting orders over the wind and rotors.

As I picked up my bag from where it had been unceremoniously tossed and joined the queue, he gestured at Seth, Fintan, and Rhea. From here, the roar of the carrier engines drowned out the command, but the three selected ardents lined up at the edge of the gangway that connected the two receiving platforms. I watched Seth shake out his hands and stretch his neck. At a shout from Rhea, he plunged into the golden light. Another trio replaced Seth’s in seconds, two lines stretching down the gangway.

I shuffled my way to the left-hand ramp, ahead of the other boneforgers, and found myself beside a man I didn’t recognize. Runic tattoos peeked above his armored vest, running up his neck. He had a well-trimmed beard, aquiline nose, and thickly corded arm muscles, but his paunchy stomach made him stand out from the ardents. He wasn’t wearing the Conglomerate’s logo on his under-armor either. A freelancer?

He glanced over at me and frowned. “A Red boneforger? This really is all hands on deck, isn’t it? No offense.”

I gritted my teeth and pressed my lips into a thin, not-quite smile. “Uh, yeah. No worries.” We moved forward several steps. “You’re a runesmith, aren’t you?”

He raised a brow and hiked his heavy pack higher up on his shoulder. “Yup. Like I said, all hands on deck.”

I shrugged. With each step forward, my stomach was rising higher into my throat. Only a few rows of ardents remained ahead of us, and they vanished three by three until no one was in front of me, the runesmith, and a hooded man in the clean white and yellow uniform, the cross on his chest marking him as a medic. There was no time to second-guess anything. As if on autopilot, I stepped forward into the rift.

There was a strong sense of resistance, like the golden light was pushing me back. As always, my ears popped, eliciting a shrill ring that put my teeth on edge. Then I was through, stepping out onto… nothing.

My stomach finished its ascent into my throat as I fell several inches. My feet landed on a hard, sloped surface, and my legs buckled as I pitched forward. Stars exploded in front of my eyes, blinding me.

Truncated shouts tore through the rift interior only to be cut off again.

I was falling, end over end in a red-tinged darkness.

An amber-wreathed figure flew through my spinning vision and slammed into me, driving the air from my lungs, cutting off my pitched scream.

“Torrin!”

I wheezed, head swimming, and blinked through concussive black spots eating at my vision like fire to a photograph. My groan became a scream, and I kicked my dangling legs.

Below my hovering body, an angry red slash cut diagonally through the air, slicing through a raised steel-mesh floor in a jagged cut, several feet below the golden portal we’d walked through. I could see places where desks, containment units, and other equipment had been half devoured.

It was a second rift. A rift inside a rift.

“Torrin, keep your head. Look at me.”

I twisted, looking over my shoulder. Seth had one arm wrapped around my middle, the other outstretched, holding onto a railing bolted into the cavern wall. The ramp or staircase it had belonged to was missing. Beyond him, three more figures appeared from the golden mouth of the Lightbridge rift, only to fall off the ruined entrance platform and plunge headfirst into the gaping red maw of the second rift.

I could see a couple other ardents clinging onto whatever handholds or stable patches of floor they could find, dangling over the second rift, trying to reach out and catch the tumbling auxiliary staffers.

“Torrin, you have to go back!” Seth said. “Get to Hawthorne, tell him what happened.”

I blinked at him, struggling to find my voice.

Seth’s jaw clenched and unclenched. “You can do this. I know you can.”

My breath finally caught, and I sucked in a lungful of air, clearing my head. All I could do was nod. Seth adjusted his grip, and my stomach leaped to my throat as I dropped a few inches before he grabbed the back of my jacket. I understood his plan the moment before he launched me.

Just as three more boneforgers fell screaming out of the golden portal and through the red, Seth tossed me skyward. I soared as if I were a stuffed doll. His throw was good, and I careened straight for the wavering golden gap.

I’m going too fast!

If I shot out the other side and flew over the railing, I’d—

Taj’s face floated in the pool of the rift’s inner light, then his shoulders, torso, and one leg, which stretched out over emptiness. We collided even as he started to fall.

I fell with him in a tangle of limbs and screams. We bounced off the collapsed mesh platform, and I felt myself twisting, unable to tell up from down. Taj was my only handhold, and I gripped his shoulders and pack, trying to find purchase with my feet. Something sharp ripped through both protective layers over my leg and into my calf.

A thousand claws of crimson light pierced my eyes as we passed into the inner rift, ears popping. Our screams garbled, then rang clear when the rift resistance snapped away and a dark forest floor rose up to meet us.

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