Ben checks his tactical belt one last time, movements crisp and efficient. “Strike team ready. Primary and secondary weapons secured.”
Rhonan adjusts his pack, muttering what sounds like “Vrek” under his breath as he glances at the building portal. “Fae courts will have wards designed to detect outsiders. Be prepared for resistance.”
Evren bounces on his toes beside his brother—nothing like the controlled diplomat who’d led the dragon contingent to retrieve Lyanna. That mask is gone. Tiny flashes of fire spark at the corners of his mouth as he grins. “Kythara, this is exciting!“ Golden light flickers through his amber eyes as he paces a tight circle, practically vibrating with anticipation. “I’ve missed fighting with my Ash Hollow pack.”
Rhonan shoots him a look. “Save some of that energy for the actual fight, little brother.”
The ground beneath us resonates with the portal guardians’ chanting. They’re not just opening a portal—they’re unraveling Faelan’s blocks, peeling back the layers of magic he used to mask his extraction route. I feel it through my boots—ancient syllables that make my teeth ache and the angel blood in my veins humwith recognition. Each word strips away another barrier he left behind.
Derek and Rafe take flanking positions behind me, checking their weapons with practiced precision.
“Portal stability at eighty percent,” Lachlan calls out, his Irish accent thickening under the strain of channeling so much power.
The bond in my chest flares suddenly—white-hot and urgent. She knows. Lyanna feels us coming.
“She’s ready,” I tell them, my voice rougher than I intended. “She’s preparing from inside.”
Ben nods once, signaling final positions. “Strike team, form up.”
The portal magic builds to a crescendo, air tearing open with a sound like silk ripping. The space between Nyxiana and Lachlan splits, revealing a shimmering gateway of silver-blue light. Through it, I catch glimpses of crystalline spires and opalescent streets.
“Vel’tar,“ Evren breathes, his voice dropping to something almost reverent as he stares at the swirling portal energy. Another spark of fire escapes as he flashes that characteristic grin. “I’ll never tire of portal hopping.”
Gleann na Sidhe. The heart of fae power—and the prison holding my mate.
The portal stabilizes, edges hardening from vapor to a defined boundary, a perfect doorway between worlds, standing where moments before there was only air.
I step through the shimmering gateway after the others, and the sensation hits me like a physical blow. My entire body feels submerged in freezing water, pulled through something too small, reality compressing around me until I can barely breathe. My wolf thrashes beneath my skin, snarling at the wrongness of it all.
This is my first portal crossing. I’m not impressed. I like my two feet—or four paws—firmly on Earth. But I’ll do anything for Lyanna.
The portal yanks us sideways through dimensions, and I swear time itself bends. The seconds stretch and compress unnaturally—dawn light washing over us despite having left in darkness.
I stagger onto solid ground as the world materializes around us. Gleaming crystalline spires catch the strange dawn light, fracturing it into prismatic rainbows across gardens unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The air tastes different—sweeter, heavier with magic.
Ben’s hand signal snaps me back to focus: Possible ambush. Stay sharp.
Without a word, our team drops into formation. Derek and Rafe immediately move to flanking positions, weapons ready.
A shrieking alarm suddenly pierces the air—magical barriers flare to life around us, shimmering walls of force slamming into place across garden pathways.
“Portal breach detected!” a voice calls out in a language I shouldn’t understand but somehow do.
“Plan’s fucked,” Ben mutters, pulling twin blades from his belt. “They’re waiting for us.”
Guard shouts echo from multiple directions—not the scattered response we expected, but the coordinated movements of a security force that was prepared for our arrival.
“Northeast corridor,” Rhonan says, pointing toward a crystalline archway. “Throne room access.”
My wolf surges forward, no longer content to be patient. I let him come partway—claws extending, senses sharpening, but holding the full shift back. We need hands for the evidence packet. Need voices for the legal challenge. Can’t do that on four paws.
The connection in my chest pulls like a physical tether, stronger now that we’re in the same realm. I know exactly where Lyanna is—can feel her direction as clearly as if she were calling my name.
“That way,” I confirm, clawed hand pointing toward the central palace structure. “She’s there.”
The first wave of guards rushes through the garden, armor gleaming with fae sigils. They’re moving faster than our intel predicted, weapons already drawn. Not the casual palace security we expected—these are elite guards in full combat readiness.
Evren grins, tiny flames dancing at the corners of his mouth. “Always wanted to crash a royal wedding.”
