“Juice would kill me.” Trace’s lips twitched. “But yeah. If it comes down to it, I’ll try to open the door.”
“No,” Juice said, sharp and immediate. They turned to him. His hand had clenched around the hilt of the knife at his hip. “Not unless there’s no other way.”
Ward glanced at Viper. “Would you go through? If the door opened?”
Viper met his gaze evenly. “Not without you.” The bond flared between them, a silent vow thrumming in the space where decisions could one day split their reality into access to two separate worlds. “But yeah, I made a vow to serve my country. Unless I’m dead and this is Valhalla, then I need to go back and figure out how to save all our careers.”
“We thought you’d say that, Boss,” Juice said. “We have an idea.”
“Okay. Lay it out for me, bro.” He stayed quiet as Trace and Juice started sketching lines in the dirt—symbols that pulsed faintly once Ward stepped near them. It wasn’t anything overt, but the moment his mate crouched beside the firepit, the spirals began to glow.
That’s unsettling.
“Okay, that’s new,” Kaze muttered, cocking his head. “Is the dirt flirting with your mate, Viper?”
“Shut up,” Reaper hissed. “Let them work.”
Clearly exasperated by his men, Ward shot them both a scowl before turning to Viper. “Can you feel it too?”
He stepped up behind him. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Like the land's humming. It gets louder when you’re near.”
Trace looked up from where he’d traced a triskele into the soil. “It’s responding to his magic. Your bond activated it. I think we were right—Ward’s the anchor.”
“Anchor to what?” Viper asked, though he already suspected the answer.
“To the portal,” Trace said. “To the new Fianna Door. The ley lines here run straight through this spot in Dun Fianna and cross beneath a sacred spring about a hundred feet west. The old ones knew what they were doing when they built this place. This was a crossing once. It looks like your mate is our missing key.”
Juice pointed at the glowing lines now dancing up Ward’s arm. “That’s why the symbols are changing. They’re adapting to the door you’ll open.”
Ward stared at his hand in fascination. “So, I’m a key.”
“You’re more than that,” Fionn said, emerging from the treeline. “You’re the bond we once forgot. A promise made by the land, returned in the blood of warriors who never knew their history. The Fianna lost their ties to the human realm long ago… but the door you open now will not be stolen or corrupted. It will be one of trust.”
“A thank you,” Oisín added quietly, stepping beside him. “For returning my father to us. For freeing our king.”
Viper’s throat went dry. This wasn’t an obligation being forced onto them—it was a gift. He was grateful that the Fianna or Tír na nÓg didn’t want to keep them. They wanted to honor the bond they’d made by letting them choose to walk between the worlds.
Ward knelt and pressed both hands flat to the soil. His tattoos flared, and runes shifted to align with the spiral carved in the dirt. A wind kicked up, rushing toward the spring Trace had mentioned. It howled for one long moment, then stilled. With it came a sound, like stone sliding into place. Tír na nÓg had accepted Ward’s offer, and the Fianna Door began to form.
Viper exhaled hard. “Well, shit.”
Ward looked over his shoulder. “That felt… permanent.”
“It is.” Fionn’s smile transformed his face from ‘stoic warrior king’ to ‘delighted little boy.’ “But it is also freely given. You have done what no druid or warrior has in many thousands of years, Ward. You gave us all a reason to trust again.”
Viper stepped forward, dropping his hand to Ward’s shoulder. “And now we build the bridge home.”
The word ‘home’ echoed in Viper’s chest like a beat of distant thunder. It used to be a location—coordinates in a file, a barracks, a safehouse, a team stacked in formation. Now it was a man with a mouth that kissed like his life depended on it. Now it was Ward, the man kneeling before him with his palms on the ground like some half-wild, half-holy thing that had always belonged here and didn’t know it until now.
Ward looked up at him, eyes dark with too many truths. “You think it’ll hold?”
“It has to,” Viper said, voice low. “Because we’re not losing anyone. Not now.” He’d rather stay here for all eternity than lose one of the men he was honored to call brother.
Reaper moved closer, rubbing at his jaw. “So what happens next? We dig a hole and hope the ley lines don’t fry us into fairy bacon?”
“It’s more like weaving a tether,” Trace explained. “The old ones tied portals to living things. Sacred trees. Stones that are etched with ancient stories. Bones that were buried with honor. It’s not about digging—it’s about offering.”
Juice nodded slowly. “We’ve already given blood. Magic. Vows. What else is there?”
