Chapter 24 | Ravinica

Chapter 24

Ravinica

WE STEPPED THROUGH the portal together. On a hair-raising quest to find my lost mate, with the mysterious Hersir Kelvar as our vanguard.

I wasn’t sure what I expected a portal through worlds to be like, but it was certainly something surreal and almost inexplicable in nature.

The moment our boots touched the worn wood of the cabin floor, the world around me darkened. Motes of blue and green shimmered in the air like dust specks, moving in waves and swirls that caught my eye, taking over the mundane wood of the lodge.

Corym was next to me one second, the next he was gone—blipped out of existence. I felt my pulse spike as warmth settled over me. My mind rolled in a million different directions.

Then Corym reappeared somewhere ahead— ahead being a vague notion in this strange confluence of space and time.

I hurried forward, walking on nothing but the green and blue wave-road under my feet. The motes did not hurt or heal or feel like anything when they touched me, going through my body like I didn’t even exist here. Like I wasn’t supposed to be here, disrupting the natural order of things.

“Here, lunis’ai ! Follow my voice when you cannot see me!”

I whipped around—Corym was suddenly behind me, running to catch up.

“Corym!” I cried out, reaching to try and grasp him.

It was like trying to catch the wind itself.

My other mates and Kelvar also went in and out of existence. I did the best I could to follow Corym’s voice. Yet I didn’t know which direction was north, south, east, or west.

Finally, choosing a direction and sticking with it, I ran. My feet made no sound in the cloudlike ambiance. There was nothing beyond the colors I could see ahead, a kaleidoscope of wondrous hues and tones.

I could feel nothing. Neither numbness nor pain—again, like I did not exist in that moment. But in my head, I worried. As usual, I feared I would lose my mates. That we might all pop out in different places, scattered across Alfheim—if we could even find the realm of the Ljosalfar!

I should have been sweating. The fear and claustrophobia that set in should have overwhelmed me, yet it didn’t. My mind told me to put one foot in front of the other, so I did.

I had no idea how long I walked. Only that, eventually, the shimmering barrier of what looked like a wall—weaving in and out of existence—appeared on either side of me.

I recognized a corridor when I saw one, even if this one seemed to rise and fall, twist and turn, without any rhyme or reason. It gave me some foundation; a place to walk through.

Sven’s voice rang in my head, calling me a “little menace,” but it mixed with Grim’s low timbre, urging me forward. Arne was a scatter-shot of vibrations in my soul and mind, while Corym kept riding through the crazed nonsense like a beacon.

I followed that beacon, utterly alone yet feeling my mates around me at the same time. They ventured through the same trial I did, and I needed to stop myself from panicking so I could complete this transport.

Blood rushed to my head. I had the vague distinction I was going up , as if running along the sky. I put my arms out and pumped, swimming now, no longer using my feet to guide me.

“There, lunis’ai ! There!”

Gasping, hearing no sounds come from my lips, I swiveled my head left and right. A bright light shone off to the left, on the other side of the shimmering, semi-transparent green wall.

I stepped through, willing myself to walk through the wall and hoping it would work.

It did, and then the light was growing brighter and brighter, like a candle near the end of its wick, just before snuffing out. The explosion of color reached me in a rainbow—

I grabbed at it, wiggling my fingers, trying to take the palm-sized brightness in my hand.

And then I was falling.

Fast.

“Ahhh!” I cried out—

Weightlessness consumed me and lifted my stomach to my brain. I pinwheeled, arms and legs kicking wildly, as the blurry ground rushed up to meet me—green, effervescent ground. It was a hue of green so unlike anything I’d ever seen in nature.

Something caught my side, and with an “Oof” I was spun left and right, losing all sense of direction. I landed with a thud, hard, and expected I’d broken some bones from the way the air left my lungs and the odd angle I’d fallen at.

I was on my back, numbness washing away now, staring up at a blue-green sky. Above me, a gnarled tree branch jutted out into my vision, with a tuft of my fur coat stuck on the end of it where it had struck me.

No bones were broken. Other than a dull throb in my side, the brilliant green grass I’d landed on had caught me like a damned cloud.

I panted, shallowly at first, before a rush of thoughts and sensations rolled through me at an alarming speed.

Sitting up, my head ached slightly, and I put a hand to my forehead, ready to vomit. The echoes of my trippy journey through the Midgard portal were still drowning away, fading, turning into nothing more than white noise in the background of my mind.

Glancing around with wide eyes, I found myself in a forest. My mates were all disoriented, on their backs or sides, rubbing their eyes, shaking their heads . . . but they were here . Beside me: Arne, Grim, Sven, Corym, even Kelvar.

Corym was standing already, eyes alert as he stared out through the forest.

The climate here was warm. I sweated through my fur coat in an instant. It was like we’d been transported from winter to summer at the snap of a finger.

The forest, with its tinged green glow, was unlike any I’d ever seen. Tress of various shapes and sizes surrounded us—from leafless copses of deadwood to bushy evergreens. In the distance I could make out both deciduous and coniferous trees, tall and small, grouped together. Other branches and boles were angled oddly, looping, stretching, and seeming to sway against the windless background around us.

Everyone took a good five minutes to compose themselves, eyeing each other with baffled expressions, before the first words left anyone’s lips.

I was the one to break the silence, helped up from my ass by the outstretched hand of Corym E’tar, who seemed to radiate here like a deity. The sunlight dappled his skin in such a unique way—if it could be called sunlight , since the orb in the sky was yellow-red with a tinge of green. On Corym’s elven skin, the glow shimmered, giving him a darker, bolder hue of gold.

“A-Are we . . .” I croaked, shocked at the sound of my own voice. Deeper, more resonant, like gravity and space here was completely different than in Midgard.

Corym smiled at me, sharp and blinding. “Welcome to Alfheim, lunis’ai .”

My heart soared. Enthusiasm filled me, mixed with something like arousal, which I couldn’t explain—other than the torrid touch of Corym’s warm palm against mine as he helped me up.

“Gods above,” Grim muttered, running a hand through his short brown beard. “Or gods below? I’m not even sure where in Hel we are in the spectrum now.”

Kelvar said, “Well, we’re certainly not in Hel, cadet.”

I chuckled. There was giddiness inside me I couldn’t shake off. I could breathe normally—even deeper than I could in Midgard—and my body felt light.

It was the sight of my men that overjoyed me. The fact we had somehow stuck together in the portal, despite no one knowing what the fuck to do.

As everyone finally gained their feet under them, Kelvar crossed his arms. “This is monumental, children. The first humans to step foot in the realm of the light elves in a millennium. Congratulations.”

Except Magnus, you mean. Please be here, Mag.

Smiles swept around our lgroup.

“Unfortunately, there’s no time to celebrate,” Corym said.

We deferred to him—even Kelvar—all eyes moving to the elf. He seemed at ease now, in his homeland, and could see the reticence and confusion on our faces.

“Humans have not been welcome here for as long as you say, Hersir Kelvar, and I daresay they still won’t be,” he explained.

“That’s why we have you,” Sven pointed out. “Our guide and tracker. Are you up to the task, elf?”

“It may not matter if I am or not, wolf. I guarantee we will be found before we find anyone else.”

“What do you mean?” Arne asked. He chewed his lip. “Are we in danger here, in the middle of nowhere?”

Corym pointed past the first row of trees surrounding us. “We aren’t in the middle of nowhere.”

Kelvar sighed. “Thank the gods, then. You at least know where we are.”

“Not exactly, Whisperer. I know generally we are in the Kiir’luri. The forest makes up one of many in Heira, the nation I hail from.”

I said, “That’s a good thing, right? That we’re in your nation?”

He smiled fondly at me. “We shall see, love. Kiir’luri is vast. It could take days in either direction to reach the edge of the forest. And this is . . . concerning.” He walked to the nearest tree and kneeled.

I followed him, noticing he was looking at a strange, rune-covered rock. “There are runestones here?”

They littered the space. Squinting my eyes and scanning, I realized they ringed the area we stood in.

“These are most likely place-markers. Not runestones in the way you think of them, because the language written on these stones is different than the tongue you are used to seeing. They are imbued with magic though—as is Kiir’luri and the rest of Alfheim.”

Kelvar stepped over to him, arms still crossed despite the warmth and stuffiness. “What are you trying to say, E’tar? If these are place-markers, we can use that to our advantage when we have to come back, no? Or are you saying we should be running for our lives at this very moment?”

Everyone grew tense at the Whisperer’s words.

“Trackers or hunters will be here soon, I’ve no doubt.” Corym stood. “The changing of the air, the scent we’ve added to this land, if anyone is drawn to it, or has Kiir’luri coursing through their veins, they will know we are here.”

My brow furrowed, and Corym continued, explaining to us like we were schoolchildren.

“It is no exaggeration that Ljosalfar come from magic. It is in every fiber of Alfheim. The same invisible motes and drifting pollen in this forest are in the bloodstream of my people. There are wood elves born to Kiir’luri, who not only call it home, but also a part of them. They can feel its movements, its living, its dying . . . and its changing. We will have disrupted the organic flow that moves between the spirits of elf and land.”

That made me nervous. I was starting to understand—on a human level, anyway—what he was saying. There was some sort of symbiosis between the flora and fauna here, basically. Not that elves were “fauna,” but that was the best way I could make sense of it.

“We’ll know soon enough, regardless,” Corym said, shrugging. “If Kiir’luri works against us, we will know our escape is folly.”

“You mean the elves can control the forest?” Grim asked, shocked and awed.

Corym waved his hand vaguely in the air near his shoulder. At the same time, the branch of the nearest tree behind him curled, then crept closer to him.

I stumbled a step back, gasping.

The elf smiled proudly. “As I said, team. Part of the forest.”

“But you weren’t born here, were you?” Arne asked, still trying to grasp Corym’s power in his homeland. “In this forest, I mean.”

Corym shook his head and began walking away. We shuffled to keep up, like kids on a field trip with their tutor.

“All Ljosalfar have some power over nature around them here. Mine is weak, because Kiir’luri is not my ordained spirit. Others—like those who might pursue us—will be much stronger.” With another smile over his shoulder, he said, “There is a reason the humans never wished to stage an insurrection on Alfheim soil, back in the days of Dannon and Talasin. They would be at a huge disadvantage here.”

I kept up with his thought process, tapping my chin. I had to peel out of my fur coat, because it was becoming blistering as we walked. Drooping it over my arm, I asked, “What about other races? Humans have no inherent specialty in Midgard. It seems . . . unfair that you have one here.”

Corym chuckled. “Discuss it with your gods, lunis’ai, and ask why they wish humans to suffer in their own realm. Alfheim is ancient. The Vanir deities who made our realm flourish were intent on filling it with magic, fertility, and wisdom. The Ljosalfar are but buds on the flowers the Vanir blossomed for us.

“But to answer your question . . . other species also suffer natural disadvantages here. It’s not just humans. Dokkalfar struggle in our realm, because the Vanir made it so. Just how Ljosalfar struggle in Svartalfheim, the home of the dark elves.”

“So it all evens out in the end.”

“Aye, love.” Corym led us through the thick jungle, with the greenish hue around me created a mirage-like sensation. Almost like we were walking through a cloud of poison . . . but very nice-smelling, invigorating poison that looked troubling but didn’t actually do anything bad to us.

Still, I felt that jittery pumping in my blood, and I wondered if the others felt it too. Looking around, it didn’t seem like it. Is it because of my half-elven origins? Because I carry a bit of Ljosalfar blood in me, does that give me power here?

It was fascinating to think about, but I didn’t want to overload Corym with too many questions right now. We still had a mission to accomplish.

Corym glanced over at Kelvar. “Do you see, Hersir, why the elves have always believed the Runesphere is best kept here? Why it is logical?”

Kelvar scowled. “Because it’s impossible to extricate from the damned place? Yes, I’m starting to see, elf, even if I don’t agree with it. I will admit it’s an efficient barrier to keeping humans’ greedy paws off the relic.”

He waved a gloved hand forward, pushing a branch out of his face—but the branch moved on its own before he could even touch it.

“However,” he said, making no mention of the strangely moving trees, “it is important to note that humans also discovered the powerful stone. Lord Talasin did not discover it alone. It was King Dannon who was with him at the time.”

Corym grunted. “Aye. Everyone knows the tales.”

“So you can see, too, our side of things. It only seems right the humans should have some agency over where the Sphere resides.”

“If humans were not such an aggressive, war-obsessed people, perhaps they would,” Corym noted.

Kelvar scoffed. “Says the man whose realm has been locked in conflict with the Dokkalfar for hundreds of years.”

“Out of necessity, Hersir,” Corym said with a frown, a warning tone in his voice.

“Many humans would say the same thing over the wars fought in Midgard.”

They fell quiet, neither conceding the argument.

I cleared my throat, walking behind them, with Grim beside me, Arne and Sven directly behind us. “Gentlemen, perhaps we should write that off for another time. Don’t forget we have a task here. You just said we might be in danger every second we dally, Corym.”

“Aye.” His hair swished, golden and radiant as the skin of his corded arms. He looked . . . healthier here. There wasn’t a spot of paleness about the man. In Midgard, he had been hale and strong, but he never looked shiny.

It made me wonder about how potent he felt in his realm.

Corym said, “If Magnus Feldraug traveled through the same portal we did, and ventured the same path, then we will find him here. Somewhere.”

My heart stuttered. “You mean he might not have taken the same route?” I grabbed his arm, spinning him to face me so I could see his expression. “Are you saying he might not even be in Alfheim, Corym?”

The elf smiled, and the gorgeous expression on his face calmed me. The calming effect didn’t last long, because his words brought new worries.

“I believe he is here, because I’ve felt a distant disruption in the spirit energy of Kiir’luri since we arrived, disconnected from our disruptive energies. I am not versed well enough in the forest spirits to typically feel such an intrusion. However, lunis’ai , there is an important thing you all must remember here.” He smiled sharply. “There are no certainties when traveling through Yggdrasil’s roots.”