29. Raea
Raea
Ryker and I leave for the Drift right after breakfast. We take one of the smaller pods, which is big enough for four people. Aksel and Ezra weren’t thrilled about staying behind, but we can’t risk the wards around Sgya rejecting us.
If my theory is right, the Drift isn’t a scar in the land.
It’s a doorway.
Anxiety coils in my stomach as Ryker lowers the pod off the palace island, letting it descend toward the forest floor below. I sip my tea to give my hands something to do.
Ryker is silent beside me, jaw tight—but before we left, he told me this was the right call.
We need answers.
Soon, the familiar rip in the landscape comes into view. Instead of landing at the tree line like last time, Ryker tilts the pod’s nose downward, aiming straight for the thick blanket of clouds that swallows the Drift whole.
The Drift looks exactly as we left it.
“Ready?” he asks.
I blow out a long breath, link my fingers with his, and nod.
We sink further into the thick blanket of mist and clouds until the whole pod is swallowed whole.
Something brushes the glass. Then another.
“Ry,” I whisper, my grip tightening.
“Breathe, love.”
Strange, winged beasts appear in the clouds, gliding alongside the transport—slow enough now that their webbed wings drag across the glass like a gentle caress.
I press my fingers to the surface, watching the pearlescent white creature stare back at me with massive purple eyes.
On Ryker’s side, a dove-gray beast mirrors our speed, its scales darkening as it blends into the surrounding rock.
The creatures are larger than the transport, with beautiful scales shimmering and changing color as we descend through the cloud bank. Large, spiked tails keep their balance, but never come close enough to pierce the glass.
They don’t look hostile. They look curious.
When I lift my hand, the blue one blinks—like it understands. Electricity crackles softly across its hide before it dives into the mist below.
“Does that mean we’re supposed to follow?” I ask.
Ryker mutters something about lightning-charged monsters and poor life choices, but he follows anyway.
The clouds stretch on for what feels like forever. When we finally break through, I gasp.
The valley beneath us is impossibly deep, ancient trees stretching upward like pillars holding up the sky.
Winged creatures of every size soar through the mist, some no bigger than my torso.
Below, a thick layer of emerald forest surrounds a silver river that cuts through the land like liquid light.
It’s breathtaking. Terrifying. Alive.
The blue beast leads us forward, glancing back like it’s checking to make sure we’re still there. Its long body glides effortlessly—four thick legs tucked beneath it, webbed wings spread wide, tail trailing behind like a living ribbon of storm light.
Below, strange creatures that look like they could be related to a horse, gallop through the tall grass, silhouettes I’ve only seen in forbidden sketches. Their long, black hair flows out behind them.
Then the landscape shifts. A waterfall emerges at the valley’s end—massive, roaring, defying every law of Kyrr’s gravity.
“How is this possible?” I mutter.
No river in our system should sustain this kind of force.
The beast dives, skimming the water’s surface before landing near the churning pool at the base.
We follow.
We both sit for a moment to take it all in. The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the thunder of the falls.
“Think it’s safe?” I ask.
Ryker exhales in disbelief before opening the door. “Guess we’ll find out.”
He goes first, keeping me close behind him as we approach. The creature watches us, its head tilting before lowering itself to lie flat on the ground. Even then, its head is twice the height of Ryker.
Two small panther-like creatures with white fur and gold spots bound through the thick grass and twirl playfully around our ankles. Larger cats emerge—protective, watchful.
These must be their babies.
I fall to my knees and stroke my hand along the backside of one of them. It makes a purring sound before licking me across my face. Its white fur is thick and heavy, and its big blue eyes soften. When it sneezes, iridescent wings flare and scatter glitter across my cheeks.
I laugh, pulling the fuzzy creature into my chest, pressing my face into its fur. Their fur is softer than anything I've ever felt. It purrs louder, but when the mother steps closer, Ryker helps me stand.
“Well?” I ask, still cradling the little creature.
He looks down and runs a hand over the small fuzzy creature before setting it back on the ground. “This was your idea, Princess. I’m just here for the view.”
I slap him. “You’re incorrigible.”
I look to the beast still watching us. “Any ideas?” I ask it as if it can understand me.
It tilts its head toward the water, its eyes moving to the shore.
I glance at the water, exhale slowly, then turn back to the creature. Why did I think this was a good idea? “I need to get to Sgya. To talk to the gods. Do you know where to go?”
Ryker grins, amused that I’m talking to mythical creatures now. When my hand swings out, punching him in his stupid, solid arm, he snorts.
Again, the creature's eyes move to the shore. I groan and then stomp over to the water. I’m about to say something sarcastic about not needing to drink or something when a golden light flies through the water, disappearing.
I pause as I watch another do the same. Some sort of glowing fish comes from the falls and stops in front of me, sinks, and disappears. I can see the rocky surface below the water, but there’s a dark spot.
“I have another hunch,” I say.
“Uh-oh.”
“I think the portal is in the water.”
Ryker studies the current, then the beast, which blinks like it’s waiting for us to figure it out. “Let me go first. I can hold my breath longer.” He tosses his Prism into the pod and steps in.
“Shit,” he hisses, treading for the center. “It’s cold as fucking ice.”
“Like Sgya,” I say with a smile, already feeling like we’re at the right place. “You have to dive fast. The water almost killed us last time.”
I trail off as he glances back. “Right. Be safe.” He disappears beneath the surface.
A full minute passes.
When he resurfaces, he’s shivering—but his magic hums with heat. “Swim fast, love. Stay right behind me.”
With one last glance at the beautiful creatures who’ve come to see who we are, I wade in. Ry holds out a hand, helping me into the water. I yelp when the familiar cold bites into my skin through my clothes. Gods, I hate this. I was hoping to never experience this level of cold again.
“Deep breath.” I dive, and the cold is a physical assault that tries to squeeze the air from my lungs.
I follow Ryker’s silhouette through the dark churning pool, my mind screaming at the memory of the last time this water almost claimed us.
Then, the ward doesn't just break—it shatters.
We aren't just swimming. We are being expelled from one world and born into another.
The wild heartbeat of the land thrums through the air. Ryker lifts me from the water, laying us on the mossy bank. My body shakes as I reach for my well of heat, letting white fire flow through my veins.
Ryker’s wind wraps around us, sealing in the warmth.
“We did it,” I whisper, giggling from the pure insanity of it. “We’re on Sgya.”
We wander deeper into the forest without a plan—only a pull. The hum we felt here before still thrums beneath the soil, alive and insistent, a heartbeat we cannot ignore. It calls us onward, guiding our steps until the trees part and the clearing opens before us.
The great tree stands at its center, vast and ancient, its bark veined with violet and teal light.
Blossoms pulse along its limbs like stars trapped in bloom, breathing in rhythm with something older than the world itself.
The last time I stood here, the shadows clung to its roots, and it was as dark as night.
Now, the clearing is bright and the air hums with expectancy—as if it’s been waiting for us.
From the trunk, the bark ripples and parts like a living door, and two figures emerge. I know without asking who they are. Astor and Calia.
Something akin to fear, then trepidation, then awe flashes through me, leaving me unsure how I truly feel in this moment.
I’ve grown up knowing the gods resided on Sgya, and the last time I was here, I was in too much pain to really consider what that meant.
Now, seeing them before me, I’m not sure whether to curtsey or hold my chin high.
Their eyes meet ours—Astor’s burn with silver light, Calia’s glow with molten gold. Before I can decide on whether to bend a knee, Calia speaks.
“Son of the Sea. Daughter of the Forest,” Calia says, her voice layered and resonant, as if spoken by a thousand echoes.
“The answers you seek will be given. The time draws near when the balance must shift. The powers within you will resist, for the lifeforce must be restored. Go beyond these lands, to the old places—to Caelus. There, the awakening to reclaim what has been lost still waits.”
Astor steps forward, the weight of ages in his gaze.
“She waits beneath the evening sun—patient, deliberate. Two crowns and a son now bend beneath darkness, and their choices will hasten the unraveling of the Veil. Beware the one whose heart stands divided. Darkness is the home she knows. Light has yet to claim her. And the crown you would trust?”
His mouth tightens. “Its bearer is no longer whole. What was once loyalty now festers in shadow. The war that approaches cannot be stopped. It cannot be reasoned with. It cannot be defeated. It must be survived—until true balance is restored. Awaken the storms, rebuild what has been lost, and light the way home.”