The jungle pressed in like a breath held too long.
Vines as thick as ropes dangled from trees wide enough to house staircases. Red-barked trunks oozed sap that stung when it hit the senses. The ground beneath them squelched with layers of rotting leaves, and everything—everything—smelled like wet stone and decomposing plant.
They had walked in silence for nearly an hour. Tavin welcomed it. His legs ached, his brand tingled, and every ten minutes, a fly the size of his thumb tried to nest in his hair.
But silence rarely lasted long between the sisters.
"You always take point," Kaelara muttered. "You think that makes you braver?"
Niah didn't slow her pace. "No. It just means you're slow."
"I was scouting the perimeter."
"You were flirting."
Tavin sighed. "Do we have to—"
"Stay out of it," both girls snapped in unison.
A branch overhead burst with motion—a lizard-bird hybrid launched itself across the path, trailing rainbow feathers and making a sound like two rocks grinding together.
Tavin blinked. "What was that?"
"A kiskora," Niah said without looking back. "Rare. Tastes like fire-honey, if you can catch one."
"Not worth it," Kaelara added. "The feathers cause hallucinations."
Tavin made a note not to touch anything feathered.
They stopped to rest beneath a fan-shaped tree. Kaelara leaned back against the bark, arms folded. Tavin knelt to retrieve dried fruit from his travel pouch.
Except the pouch wasn't full.
He tapped his forearm. With a whisper of pressure, a violet ripple peeled through space—like a flap in reality—and a small void opened in midair. He reached in and pulled out a wrapped fruit cake, still warm.
Kaelara raised an eyebrow. "You stored food in there?"
"It doesn't rot. It doesn't age. It just… waits," he said. "It's like a fridge with no power bill."
Niah nodded approvingly. "Spatial stasis. Advanced. Most pocket wielders can't preserve organic matter."
"I didn't even try," Tavin admitted.
"That's worse," Niah muttered. "You're not even using intent."
Kaelara rolled her eyes. "So he's powerful. We get it."
Later, the trees began to thin. The air grew still. As if the jungle anticipated something.
Kaelara raised her fists. Niah drew closer. Tavin tensed.
From the bushes ahead came a low, guttural growl. The underbrush rustled—slowly, rhythmically.
Then the creature stepped out.
It stood twice Tavin's height, shaped like a jaguar crossed with a centipede, its body covered in black glassy scales. Its head was split down the middle with rows of serrated teeth and eyes that glowed pale green.
"A Chittermaw," Niah whispered. "It shouldn't be this far south."
"It followed something," Kaelara hissed. "Us."
The Chittermaw let out a rattling screech and charged.
Kaelara dove to the left, blade drawn. Niah unleashed a burst of ghost flame, but the beast twisted, dodging the fire with unnatural speed.
Tavin stood frozen.
His brand burned.
Focus.
The Chittermaw spun toward Niah, jaws wide.
Instinct kicked in. He felt something—a pulse of emotion. The air bent as he opened a portal beside the beast's shoulder, then pulled.
The creature's front limb vanished into the rift. In the same instant, a flood of sensations tore into him—rage, hunger, fear, a faint echo of water and blood. He could feel the places it had crawled: a flooded cave, a butchered nest, a scent trail that ended at them.
Then it was gone.
The Chittermaw shrieked in disorientation, stumbling as it tried to adjust to the lost limb.
Kaelara didn't wait. She lunged and struck, blade cleaving into its throat. The beast collapsed, twitching.
Silence returned, broken only by the gargle of blood on moss.
Tavin staggered, breathing hard. "Did anyone else feel that?"
"What?" Niah asked.
"The… resonance. I felt where it had been. What it wanted. When it passed through my portal, it left something behind."
Niah's eyes widened. "Spiritual resonance. The Gate gave you more than stasis… you can track essence. You're not sensing its path—you're reliving it."
Kaelara's face twisted with interest and unease. "So anything that passes through your space—"
"Leaves a mark," Tavin finished. "For a while. Then it fades."
Kaelara whistled. "You could hunt anything. Anyone."
"Or know them," Niah added, more softly. "Their feelings. Their memories."
Tavin looked down at his glowing arm. It pulsed slower now, but deeper.
"And I didn't even ask for it."
Later that night, the fire crackled with oily blue flames as chunks of Chittermaw meat sizzled on a makeshift spit. The creature's hide had been dragged into the underbrush to avoid attracting scavengers, and the air was thick with the smell of charred flesh, salt, and blood.
Kaelara leaned back, chewing noisily on a skewer. "Tough," she said, "but not the worst I've had."
Niah sat cross-legged nearby, her face relaxed for the first time all day as she gnawed a strip of meat. "Has a tang to it. Acid maybe. Could mean the glands weren't ruptured when we sliced it—well done."
Tavin stared at his skewer like it was a war crime.
The meat was dark, fibrous, and somehow still oozing despite the flames. Every bite felt like chewing a rubber boot soaked in iron.
"I'd kill for a burger," he muttered. "Like, a greasy, fast-food, shame-inducing, three-patty monument to cholesterol."
Kaelara snorted. "So soft."
"I'm not soft," he protested, pulling a string of meat from between his teeth. "I'm civilised."
"You're still alive," she replied, waving the skewer at him. "That's good enough for now."
She rose, licking sauce off her fingers and pointing toward the north horizon, where the treeline seemed to dip slightly into mist.
"We'll reach the outer Lucian borders tomorrow. After that…" Her voice dropped. "We move like shadows. No fire. No sound. Their priests see light before they hear words."
Niah stood too, brushing her hands on her cloak. "Then we sleep now. Travel light at first light."
Tavin nodded, his stomach still revolting from the last bite.
As he tossed the unfinished skewer into the fire, he felt it again—faint, distant—like something watching through a pane of glass just beyond the trees.