Page 4

CHAPTER

FOUR

I wake with Jamie’s elbow jabbing into my cheek. He’s always been a damn wriggle monster, rarely keeping still. Monster . The thought freezes the breath in my lungs. It takes five long seconds before I can exhale and draw in another breath. Another five as I tentatively peer around the sectioned-off part of the cave where we rested our heads.

The eyes that I half expected to see homed in on me are not there even though the sense of being watched was what first dragged me from my sleep. I inhale a little shakily, focussing on my surroundings.

The stone walls are smooth, interrupted by the occasional shelf cut into the hard surface. All are covered in the soft green light of devices dotted around the room. Before we slept, Solan explained that a gentle wave of a hand in front of any of the devices could brighten or dim them. A lot like sensors on Earth.

But with no wiring or batteries in sight, it’s not electricity as I know it powering them.

A sound beyond the open archway sends my heart skittering. It’s a soft scrape and what’s definitely a noise coming from him. Solan. Jamie’s still sleeping soundly, so I stand, the fluttering in my chest increasing as I make my way outside of the room and into a larger living space.

It’s brighter out here, a brilliant beam of green light entering from a skylight of sorts. Because yeah, I didn’t imagine that the skies are green in Terrafeara.

I spot Solan immediately. Broad shoulders are showcased by leather bands of some kind of halter, not doing a thing to conceal his defined muscles. Said muscles are thick and in slightly different positions than a human’s, but there’s enough similarity between his body and the genetic makeup of mine—at least on the surface—that makes his form familiar somehow.

It’s the only explanation I have for why, despite the pounding of my heart increasing, I’m not shit scared of the monster’s form before me. Sure, Solan is physically intimidating, and I still have no clue why his hair—though I’m not sure it’s technically hair like I know it—practically dances and moves like it—they?—have a life of their own.

Despite my galloping pulse, I stay stock-still as I watch Solan. In one hand, he grips a carrying device, something between a woven basket and a backpack. In the other, he holds the bow and arrow he so expertly used yesterday.

Whether it’s the short inhale that garners his attention or something else, I have no idea, but his body turns rigid even as his deep red strands flow like they’re feeling the air around him. “Jack.”

The gruff tone sends goose bumps skittering across my skin. It’s the turn of his head, his gaze locking with mine, that sends my mouth outback dry.

Somewhere between his tone and the intensity in his stare, I feel fully snared. Legit feel trapped with barely the ability to take a breath. Add in the errant thought of him being criminally hot—I have no idea what it says about me that my dick is rock- hard and pressing uncomfortably against my zip—and I begin to believe I do have a concussion from yesterday’s explosion.

Though, was it technically an explosion that ripped the dimensions apart?

“You managed to sleep?”

His question cuts through the cotton wool filling my brain, and I immediately nod, fighting hard not to adjust myself. “Yeah, thanks. Jamie’s still asleep. Are you ready for us to leave?” Because that’s all that should be on my brain: getting back to my property and figuring out how fucked we are.

“It would be best to leave. The chalka birds have yet to rise, and the day is not yet hot. The sooner we discover the location of the rift, the sooner we can make preparations.”

I balk, his words sounding far too doomsday-prepper-like for my ears. I have no choice but to trust him, which is not as hard as I think it should be. But what the fuck do I know? It’s not like I’ve been in this situation before.

“Okay, I’ll wake Jamie.” I turn on my heels, but Solan saying my name stops me. I ignore the gooseflesh peppering my skin and turn back to him, my eyebrow raised. Yep, nothing to see here, folks. I’m not in any way affected by how my name sounded on his lips.

“It will likely be dangerous. The klaustras found you by the merge point, yes?”

I blanch just thinking about the monstrous beast. “Yes.” I nod.

“The boy child, Jamie—it would be safe if he did not come.”

The hairs on my arms shoot straight up, an argument on the tip of my tongue.

Solan’s remarkably humanlike hand gesture as he tries to placate me has me pausing. “I would struggle to leave him behind, too, if he were of my blood. But he is not fully grown, correct?”

My nod is stilted.

“The klaustras pack will be alert, have found their dead by now.” Solan studies me carefully, his expression soft, each roughly spoken word of English deliberate. “Their senses are unlike any others’ in Terrafeara,” Solan continues, his voice low, laced with a careful warning. “ Klaustras are highly evolved to hunt, especially the young. If they catch Jamie’s true scent, they will pursue him relentlessly. Their hunger for youths’ flesh is… instinctive. They won’t stop until they taste it or I’ve killed them all.”

The breath catches in my throat. My body turns rigid, fighting the instinct to shout that no one, no thing , is going to lay a finger on Jamie. Solan watches me with that soft intensity as though he understands exactly what I’m feeling.

“Back in my world, I used to be a hunter,” Solan explains, his eyes catching the green light spilling from above.

He was a hunter? A tendril of fear unfurls in my gut. Something tells me he’s not talking about hunting for wild dogs or fresh meat. Questions burn on my tongue, but I swallow them away.

Do I really want to know what exactly he means?

“But the creatures here… they’re different. Relentless.” He pauses, glancing towards the dark mouth of the cave, in the direction of his small valley. “And they will be many.”

The weight of his words sinks in, nearly stealing my breath.

Solan continues, keeping his voice steady and assured, a promise of safety underlying each word, “Jamie will be protected here. This home is secure, concealed from sight, and guarded by sensory triggers. I will activate the alert myself—nothing will step foot within this boundary without my knowing. My home has strong scents to keep creatures away from my territory.”

I rub the back of my neck, my mind reeling. Leaving Jamie here goes against every instinct I have. It’s unnatural, every part of me screaming that my place is by his side. But Solan’s right. Bringing Jamie could mean him ending up face-to-face with the kind of creatures that crawl out of nightmares.

“Do you promise?” I ask, the words escaping me before I can stop them. “Do you promise he’ll be safe?”

Solan nods, his gaze unwavering. “He will be.”

My heart beats fast as I try to reconcile the overwhelming urge to protect with the truth that sometimes protection is choosing the harder path. Jamie will be safest here.

A soft sound from behind catches my attention, and I turn to see Jamie standing in the archway, his eyes bleary, but clearly he’s heard more than enough. He’s clutching the shotgun, knuckles white around the handle, his face set in reluctant determination.

He sighs, the weight of everything visible in his expression. “I’ll stay,” he says reluctantly. “But I’m keeping the shotgun.”

The faintest hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Solan’s mouth. “It is a good weapon. Keep it close.”

We pack up in silence, checking our gear and arming ourselves. Every movement feels too loud, too final. I give Jamie one last once-over, then draw him into a fierce hug, knowing he understands more than I’d like him to. He’ll be safe. And that has to be enough.

As I pull away, I meet his gaze, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

He nods, his bravado holding steady. Then, with a deep breath, I mount Geralt, his muscles tense beneath me, and turn to follow the monster who’s taken it upon himself to protect us. As we ride out of the valley, I can feel Jamie watching, his gaze like a tether pulling at me as we vanish into the distance.

It’s impossible not to whip my head around, trying to take everything in. Yesterday, the whole journey had been shrouded in fear. Am I still afraid? I barely hold back my snort as I even think that. I’m fucking terrified. Scared for Jamie, and for me, at the very idea of not getting home.

I’m also petrified of what we’re going to find the closer to my property we get.

Considering all that, it’s easier to focus on the unusual trees, the banks of purple flowers that look like a cross between a lily and a Venus flytrap. That alone tells me it’s likely to bite my face off if I get any closer.

Solan jogs at my side, something I’m becoming more accustomed to. After he saved us and we fled together, there’s little doubt Solan’s speed and endurance are beyond that of human capabilities. Honestly, that Solan can hold a conversation while Geralt is likely doing twenty kilometres per hour is impressive.

Solan jogs easily alongside me, his movements so smooth that he barely seems winded. During the past thirty minutes, he’s been peppering me with questions about Earth, clearly fact-checking bits and pieces of what he’s learned from Arnold Schwarzenegger characters. The unexpected quiz is oddly comforting, distracting me from the gut-churning fear and keeping my mind away from the twisted, gnarled plants flanking our path.

“Is it true that all Earth males are expected to be able to bench… what was it… at least a hundred pounds?” he asks suddenly, breaking me from my thoughts.

I blink at him, nearly missing the humour sparkling in his golden eyes. “Uh, no. Not all of us can lift half our own body weight, actually. But, uh, some do to stay strong and fit.” I can’t help a smile as he absorbs this, apparently genuinely surprised.

We continue in silence for a few more steps, only for Solan to throw out “And this thing… called a ‘toaster’—is it really used to, what did they say… prevent food from becoming ‘sad’?”

“Wait, what?” I laugh, nearly choking. “A toaster? No, it’s… it’s just for making toast. Like heating up bread. It has nothing to do with sad food.”

His brow furrows, and he shoots me a sceptical look as though I’m pulling his leg. “Strange. You Earth humans have peculiar gadgets. But I like the idea of not making food sad.”

Another chuckle escapes me. As it does, his red strands dance in a way that has nothing to do with the breeze or his running. They’re too controlled, like there’s almost a pattern to them. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him about it, but a flash of familiar scenery has me stopping and clamping my lips together.

On the horizon is rich, red earth as well as a cluster of gum trees that are as familiar to me as the land itself.

Just as I’m about to instruct Geralt to pick up his pace, Solan’s “Wait” stops me in my tracks. Literally. He comes to a halt, taking Geralt’s reins as he does so. Geralt barely makes a peep as he pauses from his steady run. Not that I’m surprised about my horse’s easy acceptance. Beyond a sniff of Solan’s large four-digit hand when I introduced them, Geralt has been weirdly at ease with the red-skinned Pyronox—something else I’ve discovered on this journey: his species name.

And yes, I have so many questions that I’m determined to get answers to—when I’m not wondering if I’m going to have to run—or fight—for my survival in the next half hour.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” I scan the area with narrowed eyes, alert and hesitant even as longing urges me forwards to once more feel the Aussie soil beneath my feet. But I need to be smart. That means I need to listen to Solan and follow his lead.

The Pyronox is a hunter, for crying out loud. The closest thing to hunting I’ve experienced is battling a few brown snakes who’ve slithered into the house over the years and putting down a few roos who’ve got themselves tangled in barbed wire.

When Solan doesn’t respond, I cast him a glance. His focus is to the west of the property—where the edge of my sister’s fence line touches Terrafeara.

Mountains are set back way in the distance, their outline barely visible. Closer to where we stand—but honestly, I’m struggling to process the distance with how alien and… wrong everything feels—is what’s clearly a hub for civilisation.

It doesn’t, however, look like a city, let alone a queendom with a castle or palace. That is, unless I’m greatly overestimating the scale with my expectations.

And if it’s not the centre of the queendom….

Fuck it all to hell.

“What is that?” I ask, despite my mouth drying out, pretty damn sure I know what it is.

“The royal training ground.”

I twist my lips and gnaw on the flesh, only stopping when I realise Solan is peering at me, his eyes zeroed in on what I’m doing. His golden eyes flash in what I’m sure as shit is awareness, turning distinctly darker. I release my lip and dart my tongue out, struggling to catch my breath.

The fuck is happening?

Several heartbeats pass, and a trickle of sweat rolls down my neck. It’s only then that Solan looks away and I remember how to function.

I gulp in air and will it to clear my brain and the battering of emotions in reaction to getting caught up in Solan’s gaze. That shit just isn’t right. In all honesty, I’m close to freaking out.

But that’s the last thing I have time for.

“So, the training ground,” I finally manage to say. “If it’s there, that means everything is okay, right?” I don’t dull down the hope in my voice. “The royal heir and whoever else won’t have been sucked in, and the royal guard won’t be on the warpath… right?”

My lungs freeze as I wait for his response. From the tensing of his jaw, whatever he’s considering doesn’t seem like it’s something I’m going to want to hear.

“Maybe.”

My breath saws out of me. “And that means…?”

“The training grounds span a large section of this area. It’s rare that I travel out this far, so I am not completely sure.”

I wait as he pauses, his focus still intent before he brings out what looks to be a spyglass. It appears to be made out of some kind of dark metal polished to a dull shine, with intricately carved markings running the length of it. The craftsmanship is incredible—simple yet elegant. I’m almost mesmerised by the way his fingers—broad, strange yet oddly graceful—wrap around it as he raises the device to his eye.

The quiet stretches between us, broken only by the distant chirping of a creature and the rustling of plants that look suspiciously carnivorous. Solan’s still as a statue, eye pressed to the spyglass as he observes the horizon.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally lowers the device, his jaw tightening. Unease stirs in my gut. Sure, Solan saved my bacon yesterday, but he’s been so positive—heck, jovial, even—since we met that the shift threatens to take my breath away.

“There is movement near the structure,” he says, his voice low and clipped. “Guards, I think. Perhaps checking for disturbances from the rift.”

I swallow hard, the hope I’d been clinging to shrinking. “Does that mean they know something’s off?” At his quizzical look, I clarify, “That something is wrong?”

“Possibly,” he says, meeting my eyes. “But it’s also common for the royal guard to conduct training exercises here. The area is secured so they can patrol and practice without interruption. It’s best if we don’t assume the worst just yet.”

There’s something unspoken behind his words that makes me shiver. He knows I’m terrified that I left Jamie on his own, but he also understands what we’re risking by going any closer without a plan. And how the fuck is it when he’s talking about something so bloody ominous, his diction sounds so damn perfect? What’s up with that?

“Okay,” I say, nodding, even though my nerves are twisted up like barbed wire. “But they’re not going to miss the appearance of a sliver of my world right next to their facility, right?”

Solan grimaces, but it’s more a quiet acknowledgment than outright fear. “No, they won’t miss it,” he says. “If they haven’t fully checked the area yet, they will soon.”

We continue our slow, careful trek along the edge of the familiar fence line until we pass it and are once more away from the merge point. A new fence line of sorts comes into view. There’s a strange, iridescent shimmer, almost like an oil slick, coating the metal.

As we edge closer to the base, we come across a cluster of boulders. They’re blank and shimmer as though granite. I dismount, asking, “Should we leave Geralt here?” I’m already feeling exposed, but on horseback, it’s definitely going to be more difficult to keep cover.

“Yes, here.”

When Solan presses his hand over the rock, I’m baffled at first, caught between confusion and curiosity. It’s a rough stone, pockmarked and dull, nothing about it standing out from the dozens of other rocks and boulders littering the area. But the moment his hand makes contact, something remarkable happens. A faint shimmer rises in the air around his palm, warping the rock’s surface. It’s like the mirage that dances on the horizon in the outback heat, only here it’s coming directly from him .

I gape, barely able to process what I’m seeing. The rock under Solan’s hand softens, almost as if it’s becoming clay. The surface shifts, its gritty texture melting ever so slightly until it twists upwards, forming a looped shape. The entire process takes seconds, but it feels like watching hours of erosion condensed into a moment. My brain stumbles to catch up—rocks don’t bend or shape themselves. Not like this. Not with just a touch.

“Wait, what did you just…?” I fumble, blinking at him. “Did you… are you—did you heat the rock?”

Solan’s eyes flash with a hint of amusement as he watches my reaction. “Yes. Heat manipulation is a skill my kind are born with,” he says, voice calm, as if casually discussing the weather. “Pyronox like me use heat for all manner of things, though it’s mostly practical. We’re not made to walk through flames,” he adds, maybe to reassure me. “It’s more about control. Like this.” He lifts his hand, and I notice how the stone has taken on a perfect, solid shape—a makeshift hook embedded in the rock itself.

A surge of questions bubble to the surface. “So… you’re telling me you just reshape rock by touch? And you don’t get burned? Can you, I don’t know, melt metal and other stuff too?”

He chuckles, a low sound that seems to vibrate through the very ground we’re standing on. “We can, though it depends on what we’re working with. Some Pyronox focus their ability to manipulate hotter or harder substances, but most of us only learn to use it with what we need, like tools, barriers, or”—he gestures at the rock—“simple things like this.”

My thoughts whirl as I loop Geralt’s reins around the hook. The makeshift tie-off is strong and solid, and the way Solan manipulated it so effortlessly was like watching someone bend time itself, skipping the slow process of shaping and eroding rock.

Awe for him fills my chest, even as my mind races with possibilities. “So… you’re, like, walking furnaces? This heat power—you just have it?”

Solan’s lips quirk in a grin, though his expression turns thoughtful. “Not quite furnaces, but yes, our bodies produce and control heat to a degree that we can direct it outwards. It’s a skill that grows with time, as natural to us as breathing. We don’t think of it as unusual.”

I shake my head, almost laughing at his understatement. “Well, it’s a hell of a lot more unusual than toast.”

A smile tilts his lips, revealing those fangs, and once again, I can’t help but wonder what they would feel like dragging across my skin. Fuck, I need to prioritise. Being turned on at all, let alone by a monster species, is hardly what I should be focussing on.

Though, maybe in this world, I’m the monster.

I clear my throat and look towards the distant buildings. Without a word, which I’m grateful for, Solan starts moving, leading me carefully around the boulders and towards a tree line. There’s an element of cover here as we—okay, I —stumble over branches.

Then I see it. A figure moving in the distance.

We both stop and scramble to the ground, where Solan immediately uses the spyglass.

“Here,” he says, passing it to me after a few seconds.

Grateful, I take it and look through the spyglass, the view before me zooming in and coming into sharp focus. My heart leaps, only to freeze in my chest as I recognise that it’s some other kind of creature entirely.

“Is that a Glowranth?” I whisper. We’re a good distance away, but after witnessing Solan’s ability, there’s no saying that the home species doesn’t have super hearing or something.

“Yes.”

The creature—the Glowranth —is humanoid but definitely… other. But fuck if the creature doesn’t look like something a kid would create at school when drawing the monsters hidden away in their closet.

Tall and slender, with sinewy limbs covered in smooth, dark blue skin that glistens faintly in the greenish light, the Glowranth stands on two legs. Its hands have three fingers, each one tipped with a slight, almost-clawlike curve, which it flexes with each movement. A faint bioluminescent glow runs along the ridges of its arms and neck, casting it in an eerie light. As it moves, the light shifts and pulses, reflecting…. Hell, it could be emotions or something for all I know.

What shocks me even more is what the monster has with it. Gertie stands beside the Glowranth, halter secured with some sort of twisted metal rein that appears both crude and functional. The horse looks, well, calm, even, but the fact that this Glowranth has it means something deeply unsettling—they’ve reached the rift point, found my home—and likely my sister’s—and investigated.

Solan’s tense stance confirms that I’m not alone in feeling this dread.

“Who… what are they doing?” I whisper, barely daring to breathe.

He squints, watching the Glowranth as it leads the horse somewhere. “He doesn’t look like he’s a part of the royal guard. Maybe he lives in the surrounds.”

A sound breaks my focus, and I glance back towards the handful of small structures on the training grounds where several heavily armoured figures now stride into view. Their heights rival Solan’s, their builds solid and imposing. Each one is dressed in layers of protective armour, dark metallic with flashes of orange—a clear uniform. The leader wears a tall helm marked with jagged symbols that stand out like scars against the dull metal. They’re speaking loudly, their language strange, guttural, with a cadence that sends shivers down my spine.

Despite their bulk, they appear to be the same species as the Glowranth with the horse. Considering humans vary in shape, size, and colour, it makes sense that individuals within a species aren’t identical.

“They’re part of the royal guard,” Solan says, answering my unspoken question. He focusses, lips tightening as he listens intently. “They’re questioning the Glowranth with the horse, asking about the appearance of… foreign creatures and the changes in the land.”

My pulse races. “So, they know? They know something’s wrong?”

“They suspect,” he says grimly, gaze still fixed on the scene. “But for now, they’re probing for answers. They’re asking the Glowranth if he’s seen anything unusual, any signs of intruders… which he’ll report.”

“And anything about the heir?” Obviously, any Glowranth going missing and appearing in my dimension isn’t ideal, but it being the royal heir seems like it would be seriously bad news.

I pass him the spyglass, and after a beat, he shakes his head. “No one seems alarmed.”

“Do you know what the heir looks like?” I ask.

“Yes.” He glances at me. “I’ve met him, and I can’t see him now.”

“So that means he could just be tucked away in one of those buildings or something?”

“That’s a possibility,” he agrees. Solan turns his head sharply to the left. “Look.”

I follow his direction, zeroing in on the cluster of Glowranth all in full armour. It appears like they’re organising themselves to head out of the compound. That can’t be good.

From the way Solan tenses at my side, I suspect he’s come to the same conclusion. Tension radiates from him. We’re so close, I feel the tightness. I also feel a blast of heat when his grip on the spyglass tightens.

“What’s—”

“We have to move.”

Before I can process his words, he’s up, his heated hand landing on my arm as he drags me up with him.

“Come quickly.” He’s hauling me back the way we came, his palm drifting to mine, our pace no longer slow and steady.

I struggle to keep my footing but sprint beside him, his unwavering grip still on my hand. “Did they see us?” My question is barely discernible beneath how heavily I’m panting. The loud pounding in my ears doesn’t help.

“Yes. They looked right at me.” Gravel fills his voice, a whisper of a growl barely being held back.

“Fuck.” I pump my arms, losing Solan’s grip. He jerks his head my way, concern etched in his gaze, but he doesn’t reach out to me again. “And we can’t simply stop for a chat? Let them know I’m here and everything’s cool?”

He’s shaking his head before I finish. “Not wise.”

“But the Glowranth accepted you, right?” I push, ignoring the branch that smacks into my face. It stings, and I feel a trickle of blood, but I keep pumping my arms.

“Yes, but that was after weeks of negotiation and a promise,” Solan says, his words clipped as we navigate through the thick brush. “The Glowranth don’t tolerate outsiders—they capture them and take them to the queendom’s epicentre. Those with gifts are expected to serve the realm, offering skills, whatever they can, for the betterment of society.”

I’m jolted, and a flare of anger heats in my chest. “You’re telling me this now ?”

Solan doesn’t miss a beat, glancing at me as if he expected my reaction. “It’s… complicated.”

I press on, disbelief edging my voice. “This whole society just… grabs people to use them?”

Solan’s shoulders tense, and he avoids my gaze as he continues, “The Glowranth believe every gift, every skill, should serve the whole. Outsiders are seen as opportunities, not individuals.” He finally looks at me, a shadowed glint in his golden eyes. “They assume anyone strange to the realm has abilities they can use. They’re taken, studied, and trained if they’re found useful.”

“So, how are you not in their ranks?” The frustration bubbles up even as I push forwards, my breathing turning ragged. He clearly knows a lot more than he’s let on. Hell, he’s a firestarter or some shit. How can that be a gift not being manipulated by the realm?

Solan sighs, pressing his lips together as though weighing how much to say. “My brother-in-law, who was caught in the rift with my world, is the son of Harith, the chief merchant in Myra’s Crossing. When our worlds merged again and I told him who I was, he called on a favour with the realm—a one-time pardon. The queen granted me my freedom on one condition: that I support Myra’s Crossing, make it prosper.”

I process that, frowning. “And that’s how you’ve avoided being captured?”

Solan nods. “In a way, yes. I’ve been useful to the realm by proxy. My brother-in-law’s family is influential enough to protect me so long as I stay within their territory and aid them however I can. As long as Myra’s Crossing thrives, I’m safe. But that safety doesn’t extend to… everyone.” He gives me a look that’s loaded with implication.

I swallow my irritation, doing my best to keep my focus. He’d kept this from me, yes, but it had kept him alive—and by extension kept us from being hunted sooner. Still, the weight of it sits heavily between us, his obligation to the town and his tentative freedom hanging by a thread.

“So that’s why you’re helping me?” I ask, my voice low as we keep moving. “Because you know what they’d do to me?”

He hesitates briefly, and the skin around his large eyes pinches. “Yes,” he replies, his expression shifting. “You’d be taken to the queendom, interrogated. If they deemed you useful, they’d put you to work. And if they didn’t….” He trails off, the silence a grim indication of what happens to those who don’t fit neatly into the Glowranth’s plans.

I grit my teeth, nodding. For now, my questions will have to wait.