Three minutes. That’s what Rebecca had said. Three minutes between the moment when Eric Hargrove triggered the containment failure and when DAPI realized the diversion was a distraction.
It would have to be enough.
The ravine opened ahead, and afternoon light streamed into the darkness. Ben could see the forest beyond — the stands of coast redwood and sequoia and oak, the thick carpet of ferns and late-summer wildflowers beneath. Somewhere past those trees was the portal, the place where he’d first begun to realize the world wasn’t what he’d once thought. The place where Sidney would dissolve into dimensional fire and hope she could hold on to her humanity long enough to re-form.
A red light flashed twice from the trees ahead. Rebecca Morse’s signal.
Clear to approach.
“Ready?” Ben asked.
Sidney nodded and flashed him a smile meant to be brave but which wavered around the edges. “Let’s save a phoenix.”
They moved forward into the light and carried the dying creature between them, walking toward the ambush they knew was waiting.
Chapter Thirteen
The portal site looked exactly the same as it had when Ben and I had first come here — a natural clearing where ancient stones formed a rough circle, their gray surfaces marked with runes I now knew were Ogham letters, even if I couldn’t read what they said.
Or at least, it looked mostly the same. The little fairy bell flowers that resembled glowing lilies of the valley were nowhere to be found, and neither was the carpet of bioluminescent moss that had once covered the ground. Something had shifted, and I wondered if that was yet another byproduct of the contaminated energy Rosenthal’s artificial portal was spewing in all directions.
The ground here felt different now, charged with a power I could sense even through my exhaustion. This was a place where the barrier between worlds grew thin, where dimensional energy pooled and swirled in patterns that predated human civilization.
Ben and I lowered the stretcher with exaggerated care. Once it was safely on the ground, I knelt beside the phoenix. The creature’s breathing was shallow, the same harsh pants I’d seen in animals that had suffered severe trauma. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a case where I could clean a wound and stitch it closed, or administer antibiotics, or order an ultrasound to find out exactly what was wrong.
Everything I knew about veterinary medicine wouldn’t help me here.
We had maybe two hours until the phoenix’s heart failed.
The clearing was about fifty feet across. It felt smaller today, and I wondered if that was simply because my understanding of dimensional magic had grown since the last time I was here.
This place was sacred, though. Not in a religious sense, exactly, but in the way certain locations become thin places where normal rules didn’t quite apply. Where magic came easier and where dimensional barriers weakened.
Where a phoenix could complete its rebirth cycle…if it had a guardian to anchor the process.
Rebecca Morse appeared then, emerging silently from a stand of young fir trees. “I’m going to scout the perimeter,” she said. “I want to make sure we’re actually clear. Give me three minutes.”
Before we could respond, she disappeared into the trees with the kind of stealth that would have made a ninja proud. I watched her go and tried not to think about how exposed we were, how vulnerable I’d be once the merge started.
Ben knelt beside me and found my shoulder with his hand. His electromagnetic signature wrapped around mine at once, stabilizing, strengthening, making my depleted abilities feel almost manageable. The burns on my arms throbbed in response to his touch, but the pain was bearable. Everything was bearable when he was close.
“How do you want to do this?” he asked.
I pressed both hands to the phoenix’s chest and felt the weak pulse of clean fire that remained. The creature’s heart beat irregularly under my palms, struggling to pump energy through a system that was massively contaminated. Most animals wouldn’t have even still been alive if they were carrying that much infection. The fact that it had survived this long only proved how stubborn phoenixes were.
Or how desperate.
Ben was watching me, waiting for a response.
“I need to be touching the phoenix when I start the merge,” I said. “Physical contact helps anchor the connection. You should be close enough that our electromagnetic signatures can resonate, but not so close that you get pulled into the merge with me.”
It was the first time I’d mentioned that might be a possible danger, but he didn’t blink. “How close is too close?”
I could only shrug. “I don’t know. My grandmother’s journals didn’t cover this part.” I made myself meet his eyes and say what needed to be said. “I just know that if you feel yourself starting to get pulled in, you need to back away immediately. The merge might consume you, too.”
Fear flickered through his hazel eyes, but his voice stayed steady. “I’m not leaving you.”
I shook my head. “I’m not asking you to leave. I’m asking you to stay close enough to anchor me but far enough away to stay safe. I need to know you’ll be okay. That’s what’s going to help me hold on to my identity when I dissolve.”
