The warehouse smelled of cold concrete and ozone. Floodlights carved harsh white cones across the floor, leaving the rest in bruised shadow. Six rift frames stood in a silent row like guillotines waiting for necks.
We arrived first. Forn, Daniel, Meredith, Neo, Matt, and me. No one spoke. The weight of what came next pressed down heavier than any burden.
Forn signed quickly: We are really doing this.
Daniel gave a brittle grin. "No backing out now, huh?"
Meredith's eyes stayed on the gates. "We've trained for worse."
Neo said nothing. Matt's shadow curled tight at his boots, restless.
Then the Americans entered—Xalith at the front, her presence folding the air around her like heat haze. Behind her, her squad moved with the quiet certainty of people who had already accepted they might not come back.
Last came the Concord black unit. No insignia, no names. Just matte uniforms and eyes that didn't blink. Their leader, Dureil, carried a slim case instead of a rifle. When his gaze swept the room, it lingered on me half a second too long.
Tara was waiting on the dais, arms folded, expression unreadable. She didn't greet us. She just nodded once when everyone was in place.
The operator stepped forward—a woman in Concord slate, voice clipped and calm.
"No maps. No telemetry. No prior teams. You are the first."
A holo flickered to life: a single spinning sigil—an empty circle around a square spiral. The Old Realm emblem, or as close as anyone had ever gotten.
"One year," she continued. "Insertion is staggered. Extraction window opens in exactly three hundred and sixty-five days. If the realm rejects the second gate, we try again in another year. If it rejects us permanently…" She let the silence finish the sentence.
Daniel muttered, "Great pep talk."
The operator ignored him. "Atmosphere is theoretically breathable. Gravity is Earth-standard. Day-night cycle unknown. Resonance behaves… differently. Expect your boons to feel sluggish or altered. Expect your burdens to bite harder."
Meredith raised a hand. "Hostiles?"
"Unknown. Expect everything."
"Civilizations?"
"Unknown."
"Physics?"
A pause. "Expect physics. Do not trust them."
Packages were passed down the line—heavy fabric pouches, recorder spools, sovereign boxes the size of fists. The operator's voice kept rolling, clinical and merciless.
"Spools log resonance impressions even when tech fails. Boxes accept samples—soil, blood, air, whatever you can carry. If you die, bleed on the box. If you live, feed it. Prioritize the box."
I took mine. It was heavier than it looked.
Then Tara stepped forward, voice quieter but carrying farther.
"One more thing."
The room stilled.
She didn't look at me. She couldn't—Restful Gaze would drop her where she stood.
"Concord has flagged certain individuals as… high-risk for mission stability." Her tone was careful, deliberate. "Orders are to monitor. If necessary, neutralize."
The words landed like a blade between ribs.
Neo stiffened. Matt's shadow rippled. Forn's hands froze mid-sign.
Tara kept her gaze fixed on the floor, jaw tight. "I'm telling you this because some of you deserve to know what you're walking into. Not all of you will be coming back the same. Some of you might not come back at all."
Silence.
Then Xalith spoke, voice calm as winter. "Understood."
No one else said a word.
The operator gestured to the gates. "Insertion in ten. Final checks."
We moved like ghosts—strapping packs, tightening blades, sharing looks that said everything words couldn't. Ten minutes to say goodbye to the world we knew.
Tara caught my sleeve as I passed, careful not to meet my eyes.
"Kai." Her voice was barely a breath. "Whatever they told you… survive it. Promise me."
I met her eyes. Well looking at her nose so I didn't put her asleep and said. "I always do."
She nodded.
The first gate flared gold, then deeper—color without name. The spiral spun faster.
We stepped forward together.
And the Old Realm opened its mouth.