It was a truth universally ignored that anything greatly anticipated was sure to go wrong. Traveling to a new world— a fantasy world, at that— was no exception.

  Julia Meier had envisioned her arrival in Aleria a thousand times. In her mind, it would be dramatic and awe-inspiring— a homecoming. She would step onto the new soil with the certainty of destiny, standing where her father once stood, where he had vanished. There would be a sign, a whisper of his presence in the air— something meaningful.

  Instead, she landed in a puddle of mud.

  Her heavy skirts— painstakingly hand-sewn in preparation for the journey— immediately became soaked, dragging her down as her ankle twisted in the heeled boots she’d stubbornly refused to swap for something practical. Her knee slammed into the earth, sending a shock of pain up her leg.

  “Fuck,” she hissed, bracing herself on trembling arms. Rain dripped from her hood onto the back of her neck, sliding down her spine like a cold finger.

  Behind her, a sharp oof echoed through the clearing as Melissa Ramirez slammed into a tree. “Goddammit,” Melissa groaned, shaking out her scraped hands. “This is how we arrive? What happened to the plan?”

  “Annemarie happened,” Julia muttered, pushing herself up and blinking away the sting of rain.

  Brandon Larimer was already moving, ignoring the mud as he knelt over the limp form of Annemarie Bennett. She lay sprawled on the wet hearth, her brown curls tangled with leaves and debris. Blood trickled from a gash at her temple, stark against the pallor of her skin.

  “She needs help,” Brandon said, voice tight with worry.

  Melissa staggered forward, sliding onto her knees beside him. “Holy shit, Annemarie? Is she breathing? Does she have a pulse?”

  “I think so,” Brandon murmured, brushing a damp curl from Annemarie’s forehead. “But she’s out cold. And that thing she did— her eyes were glowing, she was speaking some— some language, and then she just—“

  “—jumped headfirst into the portal,” Julia finished, rubbing a hand down her face. “Shit.”

  This was not how this was supposed to go.

  The plan had been simple. Pack essentials. Step through the portal at dawn. Sell valuables for currency once they arrive. Instead, as Melissa pulled out the tents, Annemarie had collapsed into a trance of some sort. She’d muttered something in a tongue none of them understood, eyes burning with unnatural light. And before anyone could stop her, she had dived into the shimmering threshold, as if pulled by some unseen force.

  The others had had no choice but to follow.

  Now, here they were— wet, freezing, and, apparently, concussed.

  Julia forced herself to focus. She turned her gaze outward, scanning their surroundings. The rain had softened to a misty drizzle, curling around the landscape in thin veils. A small river wound through the clearing, tumbling over mossy rocks into a shallow waterfall. Beyond that, past the stretch of darkened trees, she could just make out the silhouette of Ismay’s Landing— black and tan thatched rooftops peeking from the mist, torchlight flickering against the distant walls.

  “I can see the town,” she announced, tugging her cloak tighter. “Ismay’s Landing is just past the river. I’ll go for help.”

  Brandon exhaled shakily. “Can we move her?”

  Julia hesitated. “I don’t know. If she has a concussion, or a spinal injury—“

  “Then moving her could make it a hundred times worse,” Melissa finished grimly.

  “We’ll stay put until help comes.”

  Julia nodded and turned toward the distant lights of the town. Her heart pounded as she took the first step. This was it. This was what she’d prepared for.

  Destiny was calling.

  By the time Julia reached Ismay’s Landing, her lungs burned from the chilly night air. The mist clung to the streets, thick and damp, curling around the low wooden buildings like creeping fingers. The town was quiet at this hour. Save for the distant murmur of the sea beyond the harbor.

  She hurried through the muddy streets, boots squelching with every step. The knowledge that every moment wasted put Annemarie in more danger spurred her forward. Don’t think about it. Just find help.

  Her father had spoken of this place in his journals— mentioned names, friends. That had to count for something.

  Julia reached the infirmary, a squat building half-buried into the hillside. Lanterns flickered in iron sconces outside, casting long shadows over the stone threshold. She pounded on the door.

  After a moment, a figure appeared— a person with dark, weathered skin and a sharp, assessing gaze. Their white linen sleeves were rolled up, exposing arms lightly dusted with faint, silvery tattoos that almost shimmered in the lamplight. They looked Julia up and down, unimpressed.

  “Are you bleeding?” they asked dryly.

  “No,” Julia gasped, still catching her breath. “But my friend is. She hit her head and is unconscious. We just—“ She hesitated, realizing how absurd it all sounded. “We just arrived.”

  The healer’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in their eyes. Recognition, maybe.

  “Your name?”

  “Julia Jahnsdatter Arunsson Meier,” she answered quickly. “We need help.”

  That got their attention.

  “Jahnsdatter,” the healer repeated, studying her with renewed interest. “Your father was—“

  “Jahn Arunsson Meier. Yeah. Look, I’ll answer any questions you have later, but my friend is hurt now.”

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  That seemed to snap them into motion. “Wait here,” they commanded, disappearing inside. Moments later, they reemerged with two younger attendants and a stretcher floating in the air beside them. Julia barely had time to register the magic before they were moving.

  “I’m Gwri, by the way,” the healer said as they walked briskly through the town. “They/them, mind you. Not a healer of magical abnormalities, but I can handle physical things. If you’ve arrived like your father, and something went wrong—“

  “There was weirdness, but we can deal with that later. She just hit her head.” Julia glanced at the floating stretcher. “Are you an—“

  “An elementalist, yes. My mother was a nymph. We’re common enough in this town, Traveller.”

  Julia stiffened but didn’t comment. Later. They would have time to argue about labels and technicalities once Annemarie was safe.

  When they reached the riverbank, the others looked up. Relief flooded Melissa’s face. Brandon was still crouched over Annemarie, his knuckles white where he gripped her hand.

  “Thank god,” Melissa breathed as the attendants lifted Annemarie onto the stretcher. “She’s been—“

  A sudden crack split the air. The smell of ozone filled Julia’s lungs.

  Annemarie’s eyes snapped open— the same radiant blue glow from before. Her body arched as if a current ran through her veins, and when she spoke it was in a voice not entirely her own. “Ir teith me!” Blue light crackled across her skin, pulsing from her fingertips, racing over the ground in jagged bolts. Brandon barely had time to pull back before she lurched upright, back rigid.

  “Annemarie!” he cried.

  Gwri reacted instantly, spreading their hands in a practiced motion. The stretcher rattled, then stabilized. One of the attendants rushed forward, pressing a hand to Annemarie’s forehead. “Shh,” he murmured, voice steady. “It’s alright. Calm yourself.”

  The glow in her eyes flickered, then faded. Annemarie slumped back, her breath slow and even. The blue light dimmed, disappearing entirely.

  Silence fell.

  Gwri exhaled. “Well. That’s unexpected.”

  Melissa let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. No shit.”

  One of the nurses checked Annemarie’s vitals before nodding. “She’s stable. But whatever’s wrong with her… it’s not just a head injury.”

  Gwri nodded. “We’ll take her in. Keep her overnight. See what we can’t figure out.”

  Brandon hesitated before gripping Annemarie’s hand again. “I’m coming with her.”

  Julia expected resistance, but Gwri just shrugged. “Fine. But no panicking. The last thing we need is someone pacing a hole through the floor.”

  Brandon looked too relieved to argue.

  As they lifted the stretcher, Julia stepped closer to Gwri. “I know you aren’t a magical healer, but what was that?”

  Gwri shook their head. “Something powerful.” They glanced at her. “And, I suspect, something very, very rare.”

  Julia swallowed hard.

  That wasn’t comforting at all.

  Melissa sat on the edge of the infirmary cot, fingers curled around a cup of lukewarm tea. She hadn’t taken a sip. The herbal scent clung to her, mixing with the ever-present aroma of incense and something metallic beneath it— medicine, maybe, or the faint, lingering trace of blood.

  Across the small room, Brandon hovered over Annemarie’s sleeping form, his hand never leaving hers. The candlelight cast flickering shadows over his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw, the tight set of his shoulders.

  Julia leaned against the wall, arms crossed, exhaustion pressing heavily on her. She hadn’t stopped shaking since they’d gotten here. “She’s just… sleeping now?” she asked finally.

  Brandon didn’t look up. “That’s what Gwri said. She healed herself. The wound is gone.” His voice was tight, barely restrained. “But they don’t know why that happened. Or what’s still wrong.”

  Melissa let out a hollow laugh. “Of course they don’t.” She set the tea down, untouched. “Because why would this be easy?”

  Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken fears.

  Julia shifted, uncomfortable. “They said she’s got a hefty amount of magical ability,” she murmured. “That’s something, right? We can… figure out what that means.”

  Brandon’s head snapped up. His eyes were dark, furious. “Figure it out?” His voice was quiet, but it was the kind of quiet that preceded an explosion. “Figure it out?”

  Melissa stiffened. “Brandon—“

  “You knew this would be dangerous,” he said, standing abruptly. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “You knew, and you brought her anyway.”

  Julia forced herself to meet his glare. “She begged to come.”

  “Did she beg to nearly die? Did she beg to get possessed by— by whatever that was?”

  Julia clenched her jaw. “I didn’t make this happen.”

  Brandon let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “No? You dragged us through that portal, Julia. And now look.” He gestured at Annemarie’s unconscious form. “She wasn’t in there. Her eyes glowed. She said— whatever it was she said—“

  “Which wasn’t supposed to happen!” Julia snapped, voice rising. “None of this was the plan! I prepared for this, Brandon. Alone. I trained for years. I read every word my dad wrote. I knew the risks, or I thought I did. But this—“ She gestured helplessly toward Annemarie. “This wasn’t part of it!”

  Brandon shook his head, laughing again— short, humorless. “You never think, do you?” His voice dropped to something cold. “You never fucking think.”

  Julia sucked in a breath, like she’d been slapped.

  Melissa stood, stepping between them. “Hey,” she said sharply. “Enough.”

  Brandon exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. He turned away. “I’m staying here tonight. Alone.”

  Julia hesitated, then nodded stiffly. “Fine.” She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room before he could say anything else.

  The night air was cold against Julia’s skin as she stepped outside the infirmary. The mist had thinned, but the streets were still slick with rain, the smell of damp earth thick in the air.

  Melissa followed, pulling her cloak tighter. “That went well,” she muttered.

  Julia let out a harsh breath, tilting her head back to stare at the cloudy sky. “He’s not wrong,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t have dragged you all into this.”

  Melissa scoffed. “He’s grieving. He’s scared. Doesn’t mean he gets to take it out on you.”

  Julia didn’t answer.

  They walked in silence toward the main road. The town was quiet, most windows dark, but further ahead, a lantern glowed behind a wooden sign swaying gently in the breeze:

  The Hammer’s Respite

  Melissa snorted. “Is it a blacksmith or an inn?”

  Julia huffed a small, reluctant laugh. “Come on. Let’s see If they’ve got a room.”

  As they stepped inside, the warmth of the tavern wrapped around them. The scent of ale and roasting meat replaced the damp chill of the street, and the low hum of conversation buzzed in the air.

  Behind the counter, a teenage girl with braided blonde hair wiped down a wooden mug with practiced efficiency. She glanced up, taking them in with sharp, assessing eyes. “You’re new,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m Gunnild.”

  Melissa nodded, tossing her damp cloak over one shoulder. “Yeah. And we need a room.”

  Gunnild tilted her head. “You looking to deal with me, or my parents?”

  Julia caught the hesitation in her voice. “You,” she answered immediately.

  Gunnild smirked. “Good answer. Mama’s passed out out back.” She grabbed a key from beneath the counter and tossed it their way. “Second floor, last door on the left. You pay in the morning.”

  Julia caught the key, nodding. “Thanks.”

  They started toward the stairs, but Melissa hesitated. “Hey, uh.” She glanced at the bar. “What do you have to drink?”

  Gunnild raised an eyebrow. “You planning to drink yourself stupid, or just a little stupid?”

  Melissa considered this. “Somewhere in between?”

  The girl chuckled, reaching for a bottle. “My kind of customer.”

  Julia rolled her eyes and made her way upstairs. She was very, very done with this night.