The portal was glowing.
Not dramatically. Not ominously. Just steadily, like a door patiently waiting for someone who kept forgetting their keys.
Alvin stared at it with his arms crossed, eyes sharp, calculating the flow of mana, the stability curve, the boundary pressure.
"Four hours," he muttered. "Stable in four hours."
Rowen, lounging upside down on a floating chair, perked up. "That sounds manageable."
Cryus, who was carefully adjusting a rune nearby, shot him a look. "That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."
Alvin turned. "Which is why we are not wasting a single minute."
Natasha, currently still known as Anna in this world, stood nearby fiddling with her cloak. "Does that mean we are really going back."
"Yes," Alvin said. "Earth time moves faster relative to this world. If we wait longer, you might return to find decades gone."
Natasha's expression sobered. "Xavier."
Alvin nodded once. "And everyone else."
Then he straightened. "First task. Anna must die."
