J-Clan Mission: Operation Blood Hunt - Forest Dimension

  INCOMING MESSAGE

  Lightning crackled between his fingers as Carl Jackson stared at the message flashing across his visor. Three simple words that shattered his world: KEVIN - CODE RED. After fifteen years of silence, the nightmare he'd always feared had finally arrived.

  Carl swiped at his watch, dismissing yet another message as he flew around the night sky above the forest. The twin moons of the Forest Realm gleamed off his armor as the slow blue pulse of his J-Clan insignia caught both of the moonlight rays.

  He watched, and he waited.

  Below him, beneath the dense gathering of the evergreen canopy, his younger brother was somewhere down there also waiting for their targets - a nest of vampires that had decimated three villages in the past week.

  This was supposed to be routine. Get in, find out what the hell was going on, and get out. He and his brothers, the Creator’s Chosen, performed these missions like it was almost routine.

  However, this week, J-Clan’s Forest Division requested help for this mission. Not unusual, of course, but tonight, something felt off. An uneasiness that followed him from the morning - like there was a hidden storm just beyond his reach.

  The comm in his ear chirped. “You would think in all these green shrubs a few vampires would be easy to find.” Kenny’s voice carried its usual banter.

  Yes, for Carl, this was business as usual.

  Patrick joined Carl in the air, using a large disk of earth to enable him to hover beside him. “Kenny, get off the comms. You are supposed to be the bait dummy.”

  “Yo,” Kenny replied, followed by loud feedback that made Carl wince. “Who you calling a dummy? You were supposed to be the fucking bait until you bailed out like a bitch.”

  Carl rolled his eyes. The familiar banter brought a sense of calmness that washed over him. “Both of you focused. Any minute now.” Carl pulled his visor down, checking the team’s status. Both of his brothers’ portraits moved on the screen, their heartbeat lines steady and strong.

  [INCOMING MESSAGE]

  Another message alert flashed across his visor—the third in an hour. Command was unusually persistent tonight. Carl dismissed it with an irritated swipe. They knew better than bombarding team leaders during active missions. Whatever it was, it could wait until they’d dealt with the vampires.

  As he scanned the forest below, his mind drifted—something it rarely did during combat. Years of training had taught him to focus, to shut out distractions. But today, memories kept surfing unbidden.

  A sword too large for a teenage boy’s hands. Rainbow energy climbing up arms too young to bear such power. Two boys standing against something they should not have witnessed.

  “Brothers?” Kevin had asked, his voice hiding the fear in his eyes.

  “Brothers,” Carl had answered. “No matter what happens.”

  Carl shook his head, forcing the images away. Why was he thinking about Kevin now? About Rowen? About the day, everything changed. His best friend was safe living his normal life with no memory of portals or swords or sacrifices. That had been the deal. That had been the promise. He got out.

  “I got it,” Kenny chimed, “Heads up!”

  To his right, four streaks of black arc’d into the sky. They pushed out away from their location. Following closely behind a much larger flame trail that gave chase.

  Patrick shook his head. “Damnit, Kenny, you were supposed to push them in our direction toward the damn temple!”

  “Shut up,” Kenny yelled into his comm. “Next time… be bait.”

  “Damn,” Carl said, refocusing his mind that has been nagging him all night. “Let’s go. I got a point.”

  Patrick grumbled. “I am going to murder that pothead.”

  Carl and Patrick shot through the night sky in pursuit of the vampires.

  Kenny fired his magma shots at the three vampires. The fireball connected with a black streak, and it went spiraling back into the forest.

  Electricity crackled between his fingers. He channeled the energy, focusing it into what he dubbed as Lightning Parade—a targeted bolt that would arc through multiple enemies without killing them. Father would want these vampires alive for questioning.

  As he prepared to release the energy, another message flashed across his visor. This one was different—pulsing red rather than the standard blue of command updates. Carl hesitated, his concentration faltering just long enough for one vampire to change direction, diving back toward the forest.

  “I’ve got the straggler,” Patrick called, banking sharply after it.

  Carl refocused, releasing the Lightning Parade toward the remaining two targets. The electricity struck out in front of him, arcing through the night sky. Additional bolts materialized from the clouds above, striking his charged projectile and amplifying it with each hit. The supercharged energy connected with both targets, sending them plummeting toward the ground.

  “Damn Brother, I thought we needed them alive,” Kenny said.

  Carl ignored the comment. “Get down there and put up a containment. If they complain, let them know it was because you were bad bait.”

  He landed beside the fallen vampires, both still twitching from the electrical discharge. Standard procedure was to secure, contain, and extract information before neutralization. These weren’t typical rogues—Command had specifically flagged this nest after reports of organized attacks rather than random feeding.

  “J-Clan scum,” one vampire said in Kenny’s direction. “What do you hope to achieve? We are many of us and you cannot stop us all.”

  “Great,” Kenny replied. “Carl, we got a talker over here!”

  Joining in the confrontation, Carl fought while Kenny engaged in petty threats and random fire attacks to the other.

  The battle was fierce, but Carl knew what he was doing. He fought way tougher creatures of the night than these cowardly vamps who prey on the innocent. He pummeled the vampire into the tree, then grabbed it by its throat. “Three villages in a week. This isn’t random feeding, and you do not belong in this realm. Who are you working for and what are you doing here?”

  The vampire’s mouth twisted into a bloody smile. “Awakening comes. The soul fragments call each other once again.”

  A chill ran down Carl’s spine that had nothing to do with the night air. “What fragments?” he demanded, tightening his grip.

  The vampire laughed, a wet, gurgling sound. “You cannot stop the Malikhil!”

  He threw the creature into the tree breaking it in half and was about to go for a subduing punch when his mind blanked out and flashed in bold red letters of an INCOMING MESSAGE, and he saw a vision, like a half a second photograph flash in his mind.

  Did that vamp say Malikhil? A flood of memories came back all at once. The first adventure. Kevin’s sacrifice.

  “This is the only way, Carl. In order to go home, one of us will have to stay!” Kevin yelled, holding on to the Power Sword with all of his might.

  Carl grabbed the sword by the blade. “No, we go back together! There is no other way than forward. I am not leaving you behind.”

  The Power Sword fractured in Kevin’s hands. Five glowing shards of light flew off into the Rowen realm.

  Kevin fell unconscious in his arms.

  Carl looked back at the dark mass dissipating. The Malikhil.

  “I will rise again…” the dark mass echoed into the portal…

  They crossed through the portal. But something went wrong. Or something went right. Kevin lost his memories of that adventure.

  Carl remembers everything. But that was thirty years ago.

  “Who sent you?” Carl demanded, electricity sparking involuntarily from his fingers. “How do you know that name?”

  The vampire’s smile widened. “The Sword Master’s time is ending. His fragments weaken. We feel it—all creatures of darkness feel it.”

  Kenny looked at Carl in confusion. “Sword Master? What’s he talking about?”

  Carl didn’t answer. His visor flashed red again, the message pulsing more urgently now. This time, he didn’t dismiss it. Instead, he mentally accessed it, allowing the text to display.

  [EMERGENCY: DAMERON - KEVIN - CODE RED - SM]

  The letters “SM” burned in his vision. Sword Master?

  No…

  “Carl?” Patrick landed nearby, dragging the third vampire. “You, okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Several unseen slashes at his armor threw Carl backward. The vampire had taken advantage of his distraction, its claws now extended into razor-sharp blades.

  “The fragments call,” it hissed, lunging for him. “And those who guard them will fall.”

  Carl's training took over. He flipped backward, channeling energy into a series of devastating kicks that sent the creature flying into a tree trunk. With practiced precision, he broke off a branch and drove it through the vampire's chest, pinning it in place.

  "Yes, yes," he said, his voice strangely calm despite the storm brewing inside him. "I know this doesn't actually kill you, but I need you to sit tight for a minute."

  By then, Kenny had subdued the other vampire, and Patrick was creating an earthen cage to contain all three.

  Kenny grinned. "Yo, Pat, Carl got his ass beat by a vamp."

  "No way," Patrick laughed, but his smile faded when he saw Carl's expression. "Hey, you okay, man?"

  Carl barely heard them. He was staring at the message still flashing across his visor.

  After fifteen years of silence, it was all happening at once.

  Carl dismissed the earthen cage Patrick had created and opened the message fully:

  [EMERGENCY: DAMERON - KEVIN - CODE RED - SM]

  The letters "SM" burned in his vision. Sword Master.

  The blood drained from his face as he understood what it meant.

  "Guys," he said, "I need to get back to Earth. Now."

  Dameron Poe General Hospital - Earth Realm

  Carl screeched to a halt in the hospital parking lot, nearly taking the door off his car as he leaped out. His heart hammered against his ribs. The emergency alert still burned in his peripheral vision: [EMERGENCY: DAMERON - KEVIN - CODE RED - SM]

  This couldn’t have been happening. Protocols he installed had been in place—monitoring systems, alert networks, emergency responders—all designed for a day he prayed would never come. Yet here it was, blaring in his visor. His nightmare scenario.

  He forced himself to take a breath as he approached the hospital entrance. He was still in his J-Clan combat gear, a major violation of Earth Realm protocols. Years of training as a dimensional guardian screamed at him to retreat, change, maintain cover. But something stronger pushed him forward.

  His father and wife stood waiting at the entrance, deep in conversation. They looked up as he approached, their expressions grim.

  “Carl,” his wife said, reaching for him. “What’s happening? The emergency system activated, but…”

  “Where is he?” Carl interrupted; his voice was rougher than he intended.

  His father stepped forward. “Eighteenth floor. They brought him in six hours ago.”

  “Who sent the alert? Was it you?” Carl searched their faces. “What’s his condition?”

  “That’s just it,” his father replied. “We thought you sent it. The message had your verification code attached.”

  Carl felt a chill run through him. “That’s… not possible. I was in the Forest Realm.”

  The elevator ride to the eighteenth floor was excruciating. Carl stood rigidly between his wife and father, fighting the urge to tear open the ceiling panel and climb the cables manually. Every second felt like an eternity.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Carl,” his wife said softly, her hand finding his. “What aren’t you telling us? Who is Kevin to you?”

  He stared at the illuminated numbers as they climbed: 15… 16… 17…

  “Someone I failed,” he finally answered.

  The doors slid open, and Carl pushed through before they had fully parted. The hospital floor was quiet—too quiet for an emergency. A nurse at the station looked up, startled by his sudden appearance.

  “Kevin Perry,” Carl said, fighting to keep his voice even. “Where is he?”

  The nurse frowned at his appearance. “Sir, visiting hours are—”

  “WHERE IS HE?” The words tore from Carl’s throat, raw and desperate. Lightning sparked involuntarily between his fingers, hidden at his sides.

  His father’s hand clamped on his shoulder. “Son,” he warned quietly.

  The nurse pointed down the hall, her expression hardening. “Room 1809. But sir, you need to calm yourself or security will—”

  Carl was already moving. Each door he passed felt like another barrier, another delay. 1805… 1807… 1809.

  He stopped in the doorway, frozen by what he saw.

  Kevin lay motionless on the hospital bed, skin pale against the sheets. Monitoring equipment beeped steadily around him, IV lines running into his arms. His chest rose and fell in slow motion—alive, but barely present.

  A woman sat beside the bed, her back to the door, fingers intertwined with Kevin’s.

  Carl approached slowly, as if moving through water. Memories cascaded through his mind with each step:

  The ultimate battle, Kevin’s eyes glowing with power as he held back the Malikhil.

  Stumbling through a portal, Carl carrying the unconscious hero on his back. He was terrified, but determined not to leave him behind.

  The blank look on Kevin’s face when he woke up afterward. Back at school. Like nothing ever happened. “Do I know you?” he asked.

  The sound of Carl’s footsteps caused the woman to turn. Her face was tear-streaked, dark circles under her reddened eyes.

  “His wife,” Carl said softly, recognizing Kevin’s wife from the photos he’d secretly kept tabs on over the years.

  She stood, studying him with cautious surprise. “You’re Carl.” It wasn’t a question. “He… he mentioned you once. Said you were childhood friends.”

  A knife twisted in Carl’s chest. Once. Of course. With his memories gone, Carl was just a footnote in Kevin’s life—not the brother-in-arms who’d fought beside him across dimensions.

  “What happened?” Carl asked, his eyes returned to Kevin’s still form.

  She wiped a tear away. “He collapsed at home. No warning signs, nothing. He was making breakfast one minute, and the next…” Her voice cracked. “The doctors can’t explain it. All his tests come back normal. It’s like he’s just… gone somewhere else.”

  Carl’s breath caught. Gone somewhere else. She did not know how accurate those words might be.

  “There’s something else,” She continued, looking directly at him now. “Before they transferred him here, he was mumbling in his sleep. Just one word, over and over.”

  Carl met her eyes. “What word?”

  “Rowen,” she said. “Does that mean anything to you?”

  The room seemed to tilt beneath Carl’s feet. He gripped the edge of Kevin’s bed to steady himself.

  “Carl?” his wife asked from the doorway, concerned.

  “It’s an old story,” he said. “Something we made up as kids.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That’s what I thought too. Until they brought him here—to this specific hospital, on orders I can’t trace. Your father and wife’s appearance, claiming to be ‘old friends,’ was unexpected, since Kevin never mentioned them. Until you burst in here like…” She gestured at his combat gear. “Like whatever you are.” She leaned forward. “What aren’t you telling me about my husband?”

  Carl looked down at his best friend’s face—peaceful, unaware of the storm gathering around him. The man who had saved everything, who had given up his memories and his power for a normal life, now lying defenseless.

  “I promised him,” Carl whispered, more to himself than to her. “I promised him it was over.”

  The room’s lighting flickered suddenly, the monitors beeping erratically for a moment before settling back into their rhythm. A faint red glow pulsed beneath Kevin’s hospital gown, directly over his heart.

  “Did you see that?” she gasped.

  Carl’s father stamped forward. “It’s probably just a power fluctuation affecting the equipment.”

  “No,” Carl said, his eyes fixed on the spot where the glow had appeared. “It’s starting.”

  He placed his hand gently on Kevin’s chest, feeling a faint warmth pulsing beneath the thin hospital gown. Not just warmth—heat. Like something burning just below the surface.

  “What’s starting?” she demanded. “What is happening to my husband?”

  Carl closed his eyes, fifteen years of secrets pressing against him like a barbell weight. He’d kept his promise for so long—protected Kevin from the truth, from his past, from the burden he’d chosen.

  But that promise had just shattered, like the Power Sword itself.

  “Listen,” Carl said, opening his eyes to meet hers. “There’s something you need to know about Kevin. About both of us. It’s going to sound impossible, but I need you to listen.”

  Before he could continue, the room’s lights flickered again. This time, they dimmed completely for several seconds before returning—but something had changed. From the corner, a blue light glimmered and expanded, forming the translucent outline of a man in scholarly attire.

  “What a precarious predicament. This is indeed most unfortunate, and it explains the corruption,” said the image.

  “What the…” she said as she stumbled back from the bed.

  Carl stood up to the image. “Wait, you are not supposed to be here!”

  The image looked at him, then her, and finally Kevin. “Neither is the Hero, nor the condition he is currently in.”

  The figure adjusted spectral glasses on his nose. “Introductions are usually the first order of business. Madam, I am the Librarian,” it said, its voice echoing slightly as if coming from a great distance. “Guardian of the records between realms.”

  Carl’s eyes narrowed. “The Database never sends projections to Earth. What’s happening?”

  “Extraordinary circumstances,” the Librarian replied, looking past Carl to Kevin’s prone form. “The Sword Master’s condition has triggered multiple failsafe protocols. The balance between worlds is… shifting.”

  “Is that a ghost?” she demanded, finding her voice. “What is it talking about? Sword Master?”

  Carl reached back and took her hand, a gesture meant to reassure them both. “He’s not a ghost. He’s more like… an interdimensional AI.” He turned back to the Librarian. “Can you tell us what’s happening to Kevin?”

  “Not entirely, but the Librarians have a theory if you would like me to divulge for you. I am sure that his wife would love an explanation since you failed to give her one. But that is your own reasons. Now would be a suitable time because it is something you have little of.”

  He adjusted his spectral glasses once again.

  “Ma'am,” the Librarian said, moving closer to Kevin’s bed, “your husband carries within him a portion of a powerful artifact, the Power Sword. When he was sixteen, he and Carl encountered a realm called Rowen, where Kevin became its champion against a dark entity. He became the Sword Master.”

  “The Malikhil,” Carl added. The name is still difficult to say after all these years.

  “To seal away this threat,” the Librarian continued, “the Power Sword shattered into five fragments, each containing a portion of Kevin’s essence. Kevin was to remain in Rowen, to keep the threat of Malikhil from ever returning to the land of Rowen. Carl broke that deal and made a new one that allowed him to return to Earth—but at the cost of his memories of that time.”

  She looked from the Librarian to Carl. “And you knew this? All these years?”

  Carl nodded, unable to meet her eyes. “It was part of the deal. Kevin got to live a normal life, free from the burden of what happened. I promised to watch over him… and we locked the realm, to make sure that will always happen.”

  “You are joking, right?” she asked. “That is just a fairy tale that he wrote when he was younger. It was about two boys who fell into a portal, and he went looking for an evil using power swords.”

  Carl looked dejected. “So, he has been recovering his memories of it.”

  “Wait, you mean it’s all true?”

  “Ma'am,” the image said. “What he speaks of is indeed correct. Your husband is the Sword Master. The greatest champion against the Malikhil, the Great Darkness.”

  “But that is just a story? It is a fairy tale of imagination and fantastic crap! Kevin just writes about it, but nothing never came of it. Regardless, what does all this have to do with why he is unconscious?”

  “Yes, Librarian, we need answers,” Carl added.

  “I will put this in plain speak as I can make it. Kevin’s soul has been called to become the Sword Master once again. Your deal was in error, and once again, Malikhil threatened the Rowen Realm. This is his fate.”

  “No!” Carl yelled suddenly. “That was not the deal. We won! God promised Kevin has served his purpose and will forever live to a hundred years for his sacrifice. He is not even halfway to that number, and He cannot do this!” He looked into the sky. “You hear me! Find someone else! You promised!”

  Thunder rolled outside, as if his yelling had some effect somewhere.

  “Is that why he isn’t waking up?” she asked. “Because He has taken him away because of some fantasy quest?”

  “In a way, madam,” the Librarian replied. “That is God’s wish. According to the database, the Sword Master legend is currently in danger, and the Great Darkness is undoing everything in order to destroy everything.”

  Carl looked at Kevin. “I do not understand. But this is wrong. The J-Clan is here now. We will fight Malikhil. Kevin does not have to do this! I swore to him that this was going to be the way.”

  “Carl,” the Librarian said, “You know better than fighting fate. The Sword Master is to serve again. There is no other option.”

  “No! Kevin,” she said, holding him in bed. “I want my husband back. I do not care about all of this. If you can bring him back, I plead with you to bring him back. Kevin! Wake up, baby. It’s me, your wife. Please, for the love of God. Wake up!”

  “I promise you,” Carl said, his voice fierce with determination, “I will bring him back.”

  She pulled her hands away from him. “The same way you ‘watched over him’ all these years? By stalking him from a distance?” Her voice was sharp with anger, but there was something else beneath it—raw fear fighting to maintain control.

  “I wasn’t stalking—”

  “Then what would you call it?” she demanded. “You knew where we lived. You know about me. Yet in all the years you were in his life, he said you visited, what, twice? Always with some excuse about ‘just passing through town.” Her eyes narrowed. “Meanwhile, you’ve been keeping this massive secret about his past from him—from us both. He has children. He has a family, for God’s sake!”

  Carl had no answer to that. She was right.

  “Hey,” his wife Saize said gently from the doorway, “I know this is overwhelming—”

  “That’s an understatement,” she replied, but some of the edge left her voice. She turned back to Kevin, stroking his hair with a tenderness that made Carl’s chest ache. “He’s been writing about Rowen for years, you know. Stories, poems, sketches. I always thought they were just fantasy—his creative outlet.”

  Carl’s head snapped up. “Writing about Rowen? That’s impossible. The memory block should have—”

  “What should I have? Erased it completely?” She moved to a bag beside Kevin’s bed and pulled out a worn leather journal. “He’s filled twelve of these. Dragons, magical swords, dark entities… all these adventures set in a place called Rowen.” She flipped it open to a page with a rough sketch of a sword surrounded by five smaller fragments. “He said the stories came to him in dreams. That they felt more like memories than imagination.”

  The Librarian drifted closer, examining the journal. “Fascinating. The human mind is remarkably resilient. Even with supernatural blocks in place, his subconscious was trying to process those experiences.”

  “So, he’s been remembering, bit by bit,” Carl said, the realization hitting him like a physical blow.

  She nodded, her expression softening slightly. “He mentioned you sometimes in the stories. A friend with lightning powers who fought beside him. A brother-in-arms who’d do anything to protect him.” She closed the journal. “He didn’t remember you consciously, but part of him knew. Part of him remembered what you meant to each other.”

  Carl swallowed hard, unable to speak.

  She looked back at Kevin, her voice growing firmer. “Don’t treat me like some hysterical wife who can’t handle the truth. If Kevin’s stuck in this Rowen place, I want to know exactly what we’re dealing with. No more secrets, no more vague explanations.”

  The Librarian bowed his head slightly. “Mrs. Perry is correct. If she is to serve as his anchor, she must understand completely.”

  “Fine,” Carl said. “No more secrets.” He looked toward the door where his father stood. “Dad, could you and Saize give us some privacy? This might take a while.”

  His father nodded, squeezing Carl’s shoulder as he passed. “We’ll be right outside if you need us.”

  When the door closed, Carl turned back to Kevin's wife. “It started when we were sixteen…”

  For the next twenty minutes, Carl laid out everything—the accidental portal they’d discovered, the realm of Rowen threatened by the Malikhil, Kevin’s unexpected connection to the Power Sword that marked him as the realm’s champion.

  His friend's wife listened intently, occasionally asking sharp questions that revealed her analytical mind. She took notes in the margins of Kevin’s journal, connecting his dream stories to Carl’s account of what had actually happened.

  “So, the ending battle,” she said, flipping to a page with a dark, swirling mass sketched across it, “when the sword shattered, Kevin chose Rowen to maintain the seal on this Malikhil entity.”

  Carl nodded. “He sacrificed everything—to never come home again—to save both worlds.”

  “But you couldn’t accept that,” She stated kindly.

  “No,” Carl admitted. “I made a deal with the powers that be. I offered part of my essence to strengthen the barrier if they’d let Kevin return to Earth. They agreed, but with conditions: Kevin would lose all memory of Rowen, and the Power Sword fragments would remain scattered, each containing a portion of his… soul, I guess you could call it.”

  She studied him. “And you’re part of the bargain? Besides the essence you gave up?”

  “I did not know it, but there was another threat to the Earth Realm. The Soul Wars. With the help of my father, we formed the J-Clan. To protect the dimensions from other threats. To guard the barrier between worlds.” Carl’s gaze returned to Kevin. “With Kevin not there, Rowen is the link between God’s power. We sealed it. And to watch over him from a distance, never revealing what had happened.”

  “Until now,” she whispered.

  “Until now,” Carl agreed.

  Kevin's wife closed the journal. “All these years, he’s been only part of himself. No wonder he always felt something was missing.” Her voice caught, but she quickly regained composure. “What happens when all these fragments come together again? Will he remember everything?”

  “I don’t know,” Carl admitted. “This has never happened before.”

  She was quiet for a long moment, lost in thought. Finally, she looked up with renewed determination. “Alright. I’m Kevin’s anchor here. What exactly does that mean? What do I need to do?”

  The Librarian, who had been silent during Carl’s explanation, spoke up. “Carl must locate the fragments and restore the Sword Master to repel Malikhil once again. As his wife, your bond is the strongest. You must stay with his physical form, maintain contact as much as possible. Speak to him. Remind him of your life together. This will keep him tethered to Earth while Carl is on his mission.”

  She nodded, already sitting closer to Kevin and holding his hand. “I can do that.” She looked at Carl. “And if I learn anything from him—if he speaks or responds—how do I contact you?”

  It was a practical question that showed she was already thinking ahead. Carl found himself grateful for her quick adaptation to the impossible situation.

  “The Librarian can serve as a conduit,” he said, looking at the spectral figure for confirmation.

  “I can establish a secure connection between realms,” the Librarian agreed. “But such communications will be limited and may attract… unwanted attention.”

  “Use it only if absolutely necessary,” Carl instructed her. “If Kevin wakes up, or something happens, call my brothers. The J-Clan will come.”

  She nodded again, her researcher’s mind clearly cataloging and organizing the information. “How long will this take? Your journey to find the fragments?”

  Carl exchanged glances with the Librarian. “Time moves differently between realms. It could be days here, but weeks or months there.”

  “Or vice versa,” the Librarian added. “The fluctuations are unpredictable.”

  Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t flinch. “Then you better get started.” She fixed Carl with an intense gaze. “Bring my husband back, Carl. Not just his body—all of him.”

  Carl felt betrayed. A promise he made so long ago, casually ripped apart by yet again, something that had nothing to do with them. No, not again. Not the one who believed in him. He owes this man his life.

  “Librarian,” Carl said, looking out the window. “I am ready. Open the portal. I am bringing Kevin back to his wife.”

  With the power reaching a brightness of white light, the portal glimmered with shining potential. Carl was versed in portals, mostly in the other realms, but this one shined brighter than anything he had ever witnessed.

  “Son,” his father said. “Be prepared for anything to happen over there. Time may be rewritten. This is unknown territory, even for you, although this isn’t your first time in that realm. I do not know if you will retain your abilities but remember your focus. Do not worry about us on this side. The J-Clan will keep them safe.”

  Carl nodded and looked through the portal. He hovered in the air to match the height above Kevin.

  The Sword Master. Keeper of The Five Swords of Power.

  Find and bring Kevin home. Not just a part of him like I did before. This time... completely. Even if I have to fight fate itself.

  Last time, we went through together. This time, I am coming to get you for good.

  With a moment of determination, Carl once again entered the realm of Rowen, the locked realm of the Sword Master.