The Tahoe bounced slightly as they rolled over a dip in the logging road, Terra’s shoulder brushing Ryan’s as they sat in the backseat. She barely noticed, her attention riveted to the streaks of green and brown blurring past the window. Outside, the dense trees pressed in, not looking much different than she’d seen in the hour after the Blacklight. Her stomach churned with unease.

  In the front, Constables Shephard and Littleton chatted—something about terrain logistics and communication protocols—but Terra wasn’t listening. Their voices were a muffled backdrop to her own thoughts, tangled with the sense of surreality she couldn’t seem to shake. It was odd to see Constable Shephard out of uniform. She’d never really had to encounter him over the years, particularly due to her aversion to being on the bad side of law enforcement.

  Ahead, the trees thinned as they approached a wide clearing at the end of the road. Several vehicles were already parked there, including Sergeant Boone’s cruiser and a rugged pickup that likely belonged to Goose Payne. A small cluster of figures stood together near a pair of brightstriders—massive, yellow-feathered creatures whose presence made the vehicles look like children’s toys in comparison. Nalya stood at the center of the group, her golden braid catching the morning light as she spoke with Goose, Boone, and Keltz.

  Terra exhaled sharply as the Tahoe came to a halt.

  “We’re here,” Constable Littleton announced unnecessarily.

  The doors opened, and Terra stepped out, the crisp, pine-laden air filling her lungs. It smelled… foreign, she realized. Too clean, too sharp, like the world had shed its familiar undertones along with everything else that tied Ladysmith to Earth.

  Bayne Dalon was the first to greet them, his broad frame cutting an imposing silhouette as he strode over. “Good. You’ve arrived,” he said in his clipped Halish accent, his eyes scanning their small group.

  Cale opened the back hatch of the SUV and began unloading their gear. He handed Terra her backpack first. As she adjusted the straps, she mentally ticked off the items she remembered packing: beef jerky, a solar charger, headphones, a pack of lighters, a sleeping bag, a tent, clothes, hygiene supplies—and makeup. She frowned at the last, a small indulgence she’d packed only because Lily had insisted.

  Her thoughts shifted to Lily and Ariella, who were likely still at the apartment. It had been an odd relief to know Ariella would stay with Lily while she was gone. Lily was fiercely independent and fully capable of taking care of herself, but often Terra thought she’d be a much different person without her around. Ariella was something new for Lily. Something fresh, and something she could focus on in Terra’s absence. Still, the memory of her brothers tugged at her. Were her parents going to be able to hold, or would the chaos of their new reality drive them into patterns of stress and anger? Jace’s new powers concerned her, but Lily, also having manifested a mantle, promised she would look out for him.

  She shook her head, pushing the thoughts aside. Focus, she told herself. You can’t fix anything from here.

  Bayne’s voice interrupted her. “And what, pray tell, is this?” He pointed at the guitar case slung over Ryan’s shoulder.

  Ryan shrugged, an easy grin playing on his lips. “It’s a guitar. Like a musical instrument. I don’t go anywhere without it.”

  Bayne’s scoff was almost a growl. “Bloody chordweavers. More trouble than they’re worth.” He turned sharply and muttered something under his breath before walking away.

  “Friendly guy,” Ryan murmured, his grin widening.

  Nalya’s voice cut through the morning air with practiced authority. “We’ll be traveling by brightstrider into the Disputed Lands.”

  Terra glanced at the massive yellow-feathered creatures, their sharp talons digging into the earth as they shifted restlessly. They were beautiful in a way, sleek and graceful, but their predatory gaze made her uneasy. “Brightstriders?” she echoed, the skepticism clear in her tone. “We’re riding… those?”

  “They are swift and tireless,” Nalya replied evenly. “And better suited to this terrain than your vehicles, which as I understand would require fuel your people cannot spare right now.”

  Ryan eyed the creatures with suspicion, adjusting the strap of his guitar case. “They’re not going to, you know, eat us or anything, right?”

  A faint twitch of irritation crossed Nalya’s face, but before she could respond, Bayne snorted and stepped forward. “If they wanted to eat you, they’d already have done it, lad.” His tone was dry, his disdain palpable. “Brightstriders don’t waste time with slow prey.”

  Ryan opened his mouth to reply but seemed to think better of it.

  Satisfied, Nalya continued. “The Disputed Lands are not like the Pactlands or your Ladysmith. They are dangerous and unpredictable. You must remain vigilant.” She paused, her gaze sweeping over the group. “Bandits roam these lands, preying on the weak and unwary. Shadow Wolves hunt in packs and are more intelligent and capable of remaining hidden than ordinary predators. And Rathkarii…” Her expression darkened. “We don’t want to encounter them.”

  Terra and Ryan exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unfamiliar with the terms. Ryan was the first to speak. “Okay, hang on. Bandits I get, but Shadow Wolves? Rathkarii? What are we talking about here?”

  “Are they just wolves?” Terra asked, her voice more cautious. “Or something else?”

  Bayne’s eyes narrowed, and he let out a disdainful chuckle. “Something else,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension. “Shadow Wolves aren’t your toothy mutts skulking around campfires. They’re bigger, smarter, deadlier, and you’ll never see them coming. They’ll flank you and pick off the weakest first.” He gave Terra a knowing look. “Their fur blends with the forest around them, see? Even if you see one, there’s a dozen more you don’t.”

  Ryan’s face paled slightly. “Great. And the Rathkarii?”

  Bayne’s grin turned wolfish. “Oh, you’ll know a Rathkarii when you see one. If you live long enough, that is.” He crossed his arms, clearly enjoying their discomfort. “They’re ten feet of muscle, teeth, and armor. Think of a beast crossed with a battering ram, then make it angry. Only thing worse than running into one is running into two.”

  “Bayne, that’s enough!” Nalya exclaimed. “Rathkarii are sentient, and not at all what Bayne is describing. If you respect them, they’ll leave you be. If you offend them, however…” she let the sentence finish itself.

  Terra swallowed hard. “Noted.”

  “And the… Ilyx’ori?” Ryan ventured cautiously.

  At this, Nalya’s expression hardened. “Under no circumstances are you to speak with an Ilyx’ori if you encounter one,” she said, her voice sharp with warning. “No good comes from engaging with them.”

  “What are they?” Terra asked, frowning.

  Bayne’s smirk returned, but it lacked humor. “Birds,” he said. “Bloody annoying birds.”

  Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Annoying birds?”

  “No, Chordweaver. Bloody annoying,” Bayne explained.

  Terra folded her arms, her unease shifting into a simmering annoyance at Bayne’s tone. “Thanks for the pep talk,” she muttered under her breath.

  Ignoring her, Nalya straightened and addressed them both again. “The Disputed Lands are harsh and unforgiving. You will need to rely on Bayne and I to navigate its dangers. Until we reach Halen, stay close and do not wander.”

  Keltz, who had been quietly observing, chose this moment to interject, his tone lighter. “Don’t let Bayne get to you,” he told them. “He’s got a hard edge, but he means well.”

  “I mean well, do I?” Bayne growled, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Let’s see if your good intentions keep the blood chordweaver from being torn to bits by a shadow wolf, then.”

  Nalya’s lips twitched, but she maintained her composure. “This will not be comfortable. You will miss Ladysmith’s comforts soon enough. These lands offer no such luxuries.”

  The weight of her words settled over them, and Terra felt the knot in her stomach tighten.

  “Are we ready?” Nalya asked after a moment.

  Goose and Boone approached then, breaking the tension. Goose handed Ryan a sealed envelope, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “For the King. Don’t open it, and don’t let anything happen to it.”

  Ryan nodded solemnly, tucking the letter into his pack. “Got it.”

  “And don’t say or do anything to jeopardize this,” Boone added, his stern gaze fixed on Ryan.

  “I’ll behave,” Ryan assured him.

  Cale finished securing the last of their gear, his calm voice cutting through the moment. “We’ll stay sharp. Don’t worry about us.”

  Boone clapped him on the shoulder, his expression softening slightly. “Good. We’re counting on you to pull this off. We’ll take care of things here.”

  With that, the group began their ascent up the slope. Terra hesitated at the threshold, the clear line where Ladysmith ended and the Disputed Lands began. She took a steadying breath and stepped forward, the alien ground firm beneath her boots.

  She looked back once, catching a final glimpse of the familiar trees and vehicles before turning to face the wild, untamed expanse ahead.

  There was no turning back now.

  The morning sun spilled over the shimmering waters of Ladysmith Harbour, casting a golden glow on Transfer Beach Park. The crisp air carried the mingled scents of salt and budding flowers, the latter emanating from the colorful flowerbeds dotting the park's pathways. The green leaves of the oak trees lining the beach whispered in the breeze. Despite the fact that the town itself has been shifted into an entirely alien world, families were still scattered across the open fields as though it was a normal day. The rhythmic clang of swings and cheerful shouts of children drifted from the playground nearby. Farther down, the shoreline curved gently, its sand punctuated by driftwood and smooth stones.

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  Lily and Ariella strode toward the amphitheatre, their footsteps crunching on the gravel trail. Lily looked over to her companion in approval as the other girl walked with a quiet grace beside her. Terra had offered Ariella some of her clothes for when she was gone, and Lily had to admit that it suited her better than she had expected. Lily has always had a strong sense of style. Even then, she wore a sharp, stylish black sundress most thought were better suited for an evening out, which Ariella seemed perfectly at home in one of Terra’s band t-shirts and leggings. Before they went to bed, Terra had even helped Ariella rebraid her hair. It was clear that Terra was nervous about going to Halen, but having a girl’s night brought her a sense of normalcy, despite the fact that one of the three grew up in an entirely different world, and two had magic. If Terra’s talk of having visions was true, perhaps even three.

  Ahead, Eleanor Beale was already waiting, seated on a wooden bench at the far edge of the amphitheatre overlooking the harbor. She rose as they approached, her signature scarf catching the breeze. A warm smile softened her features, and she waved them closer.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Eleanor said, her voice crisp and welcoming. As they drew nearer, she added, “Boomer is home, by the way. He stayed up late with me after last night’s meeting. That boy has quite the mind.”

  Ariella’s brows furrowed slightly. “And his Psychomancy? You understand my concerns.”

  Eleanor inclined her head, her hazel eyes serious behind her glasses. “I do, and they’re valid. But Boomer is a thoughtful, intelligent student. I can see he’s struggling with the telepathic aspects of his abilities, but he’s shown a remarkable ability to separate those thoughts from his own. I believe we’ll need him moving forward.”

  Lily stepped in. “I have faith in Boomer. He’s proven himself in tough situations.”

  After a moment, Ariella nodded. “I’ll give him a chance, but I have to remain cautious.”

  “That’s wise,” Eleanor said. “He asked me to keep tabs on him, just in case. It’s clear he understands the gravity of his situation, and it weighs heavily on him.”

  Ariella’s posture relaxed slightly. “That’s... reassuring.”

  They began to walk along the path, the harbor’s gentle waves providing a soothing backdrop. Eleanor gestured expansively as she continued, “We’ve identified over 120 people with mantles so far, and I expect that number to grow. Some are scared or confused about their abilities, which is understandable. The Emergency Committee agreed we need to support them and ensure they’re trained to use their powers responsibly.”

  She paused, smiling wryly. “Which is why, after much debate, we’ve established what I insisted on calling the Ladysmith Magic Society.”

  Lily raised an eyebrow. “Catchy.”

  Eleanor chuckled. “Better than some of the alternatives—Mantle Management Group, for one. You can thank Jimmy Coombs for that one. Anyway, I’ll obviously be a member, but I can’t lead it. My commitments to the Emergency Committee are too demanding. There are a number of small communities in the area around the Blacklight Zone and we’ve plans to reach out to all of them, and as you can imagine that’s got to take precedence. I’ll participate, though.”

  “You won’t?” Lily asked. “I would have thought—”

  “Oh, I would love to,” Eleanor said. “But it’s not feasible.” She turned to Lily. “You’re in the hospitality program at VIU, aren’t you?”

  Lily blinked, caught off guard. “I am. I’m going for my certificate in event planning.”

  “I thought I recognized you from campus,” she said. “And you work at the Subway as well, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Lily said. “I’m the manager, actually. Or… well, I was. I guess the store’s not going to be opening for a while now because of… all this.”

  “Full time student and full time manager. How do you balance that and still manage to have a social life?”

  Lily hesitated before answering with a slight shrug. “I just... plan my time well. I enjoy staying busy.”

  “That’s evident,” Eleanor said with approval. “I offered the role to Boomer first, but he declined. Said he didn’t think he was serious enough to be a leader. But he recommended you.”

  Lily stopped, her expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “Me?”

  Eleanor nodded, her tone turning persuasive. “The leader needs to be pragmatic, empathetic, and resourceful. Someone who can manage people, adapt to crises, and inspire trust. From what I’ve heard about you, Lily, you’re all of those things.”

  Lily stared at her, processing. Then, with a decisive nod, she said, “All right. I’ll do it.”

  Eleanor clapped her hands together, the gesture quick and precise, like the closing of a well-made book. “Excellent. There’s a meeting tonight for everyone with a mantle. Same spot—Transfer Beach. I’ll send out the messages.” She paused, reaching into her satchel and pulling out a slim notebook, its corners dog-eared from use. “Before I forget—here. A list of everyone who’s reported their mantle so far, along with what they can do.”

  Lily took the notebook, flipping it open with practiced efficiency. Names and notes filled the pages in Eleanor’s neat, academic handwriting. She was surprised to see a few familiar names. There was Jace, Terra’s brother, but she’s already expected that after Terra told them the story of what had happened the previous day. As she skimmed, one name in particular stopped her cold. Her grip on the notebook tightened.

  “Oh. Oh, no,” Lily muttered under her breath.

  Ariella leaned in, her green-flecked gaze narrowing. “What is it?”

  Lily tapped the page, her voice flat. “Kayla Winder. Luxmancer.”

  Eleanor raised a curious brow. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

  Lily closed the notebook with a snap, but her jaw tightened. “We went to high school together. Let’s just say… she’s a lot.”

  “A lot,” Eleanor echoed with a dry chuckle. “Well, like it or not, she’s in this with the rest of us. You’ll manage her, yes?”

  Lily sighed, her breath a heavy exhale of past grudges and memories she’d rather leave buried. Kayla Winder. Diva extraordinaire. Queen of passive-aggressive remarks. They’d started as friends once—good friends—but it hadn’t lasted. Rivalries over grades, over boys, over the sheer orbit of their personalities. By graduation, Kayla had become the human equivalent of nails on a chalkboard.

  “She’s a narcissistic nightmare,” Lily admitted. “But yeah.” She slipped the notebook into her purse, her voice firm now. “I’ll handle it.”

  “Good,” Eleanor said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Remember, you’re not alone. I’m here if you need advice.”

  Lily gave her a faint smile in return. “Thanks. Let’s hope I don’t need it too often.”

  As they started back toward the beach’s edge, the wind teased the edges of Lily’s coat, and she squared her shoulders. She might not like this—Kayla Winder in the mix would be a storm unto herself—but she’d weathered storms before.

  And this time, the stakes were higher than high school drama.

  Andrew pulled his truck into the parking lot of the RCMP detachment, its engine rumbling low before he killed the ignition. The lot was nearly empty, save for a pair of police cruisers parked side by side, their black-and-white paint jobs dulled by what looked to be fresh dust. He sat for a moment, taking in the quiet street. Sixth Avenue looked unchanged by the chaos—at least on the surface. But Ladysmith itself felt like a held breath, waiting to exhale.

  The door creaked as he climbed out, his boots hitting the pavement with a solid thud. He’d just reached back to grab his pack when a voice called out.

  “Johnson,” came the unmistakable voice of Sergeant Boone. Andrew turned to see the older man approaching, his broad frame cutting a no-nonsense silhouette against the morning sky.

  Andrew raised a hand in greeting. “Sergeant.”

  Boone stopped a few feet away, giving Andrew’s truck a once-over. “Thanks for coming. Nice ride. Where you staying?”

  Andrew snorted. “Downstairs couch at my sister’s place. Just a few blocks over. Cozy, you know?”

  Boone’s lips twitched into a dry smile. “Bet that’s a step up for you.”

  “You’d shit if you knew some of the places I’ve had to sleep,” Andrew shot back. “Deployment doesn’t exactly come with creature comforts.”

  Boone chuckled at that, nodding toward the truck. “Hope you’ve got a full tank.”

  Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

  “Because chances are, that truck’s not seeing another drop of fuel. Not unless someone in this town has a secret refinery stashed in their basement.”

  Andrew folded his arms, leaning back against the driver’s side door. “Familiar with refinery infrastructure. Ladysmith’s got none. Even if we had the parts, getting one operational could take decades. Better start shopping for saddles.”

  Boone’s smile widened, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “Maybe not saddles. Doubt they’ll fit onto the brightstriders that well.”

  Andrew frowned. “Bright-what?”

  Boone waved a hand dismissively. “Forget it. We’ve got more immediate concerns. Let’s talk shop.”

  Boone led Andrew toward the station, hands tucked into his belt. “You’ve probably noticed—people in town are waking up with... powers. Beale’s trying to round them up, get them trained. Make sure they know how to use their new toys without burning the town down.”

  Andrew nodded. “Sounds smart.”

  “It is. But Beale’s skeptical about involving them in the militia. Dead against it, actually.”

  Andrew arched an eyebrow. “That her call?”

  Boone shook his head. “Nope. That’s mine. I respect Beale’s intelligence, but the woman’s a professor. She’s got theories and ethics coming out her ears, but she doesn’t seem to grasp one basic truth.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That not everything can be solved with words.” Boone’s gaze was sharp now, his tone cool and measured. “Sometimes, you need people who can act.”

  Andrew shrugged. “That’s true of a lot of academic types. They’ve got the theories, sure, but they’ve never had to test them when it counts. That’s where people like me come in.”

  “Exactly.” Boone stopped at the station’s steps and turned, his eyes narrowing as he studied Andrew. “You’ve been in the thick of it, so I won’t sugarcoat things. The next few weeks? They’re going to decide if this town makes it or not.”

  Andrew crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the station’s railing. “Sounds about right. Any ideas on how to tip the scales?”

  Boone gave a slow nod. “Plenty of ideas. Not all of them good. But one thing’s clear—we need to get organized. Food, shelter, patrols. And defense.”

  Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Defense? That’s gonna require weapons.”

  Boone motioned for him to follow as he climbed the steps. “Among other things. But yeah, guns. Come hither.”

  Boone led him through the building, the faint scent of coffee and worn leather hanging in the air. The place felt eerily quiet—most of the desks were empty, the usual bustle of paperwork and chatter replaced by the weight of an uncertain future.

  Boone gestured to a small meeting room. “In here.”

  Andrew followed, taking a seat as Boone leaned against the edge of the table. The sergeant folded his arms, his expression hard.

  “People are scared,” Boone began. “Some are holed up at home, hoping this whole thing will blow over. Others? They’re ready to fight. Problem is, most of them don’t know how.”

  Andrew nodded. “Makes sense. Fear’s a hell of a motivator, but it’s no substitute for training.”

  “Exactly,” Boone said. “We’ve got hunters in town, a good number of them. That’s where the guns come in.”

  Andrew leaned forward slightly. “What’s the situation?”

  Boone sighed, running a hand over his jaw. “Plenty of rifles and shotguns, but convincing people to give them up for a militia? That’s another story.”

  Andrew snorted. “Desperate people are willing to sacrifice a lot, but hunting rifles are a start—not a solution. They’re no match for, say, a C7A2.”

  Boone let out a dry laugh. “Closest C7s are probably in Victoria, and Victoria’s a whole other planet away.”

  “Figured as much,” Andrew said. “So what do we have?”

  Boone shifted, his tone turning serious. “There are a few automatics locked up in evidence. Seizures from a couple weeks back. Problem is, we don’t have much ammo for them. We can make more to a point, at least with the more standard calibers, but we’ll be relying on the hunters for most of it.”

  Andrew considered that, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. “It’s a start, at least. But if things go south, that’s not going to cut it.”

  “No argument there,” Boone said, his smirk creeping back. “But maybe we don’t need to stick with what we’ve got.”

  Andrew tilted his head. “You’ve got something in mind?”

  Boone straightened, fishing his keys from his pocket. He flipped them into the air and caught them in one smooth motion. “Maybe. Let’s go for a ride.” He started toward the door.

  “Where we headed?” Andrew asked, following.

  “Thought we’d pay someone a visit,” he said with a grin. “Trust me, you’re going to like this.”