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I looked at Dax, looked at Mal, drew a deep breath of Nymeria’s cold air into my lungs, and stepped into the churning silver light.

The crossing was an agonizing, breathless nightmare of pure sensory disorientation.

The moment my boots cleared the threshold, gravity ceased to exist. I was plunged into an absolute vacuum where time, space, and direction collapsed into a screaming blur of blinding white light and pitch-black void. The air pressure slammed into my chest like an iron plate, compressing my mended ribs, dragging a silent gasp from my lips.

I couldn’t feel my boots. I couldn’t feel the stone.

Then, with the sudden, violent force of a falling anvil, the universe reasserted itself.

My boots hit wet, pebbled shoreline gravel instead of cold stone.

The violent void of the portal vanished in a fraction of a second, replaced by the quiet, serene lap of clear water against the wooden pylons of a private dock. High above us, the towering canopy of ancient evergreens filtered the soft, golden sunlight of late afternoon, casting long shadows across the gravel beach.

“Defensive stance!” Manem’s voice roared beside me.

Instantly, the sharp, metallic shhhk of steel being drawn echoed across the quiet shore. Caspian, Mal, and Manem unsheathed their broadswords in a synchronized arc, their broad frames fanning out to form a protective perimeter. Dax stumbled beside me, his leather-bound arm raised, his breath coming in short gasps as his wild green eyes swept the peaceful woods.

“Sheath your steel!” I barked, lowering my obsidian daggers as my eyes locked onto the weathered wooden porch resting at the top of the shoreline path.

Standing on the bottom step of the deck, clutching a mug of tea, was my mother.

A gasp caught in my throat. She was a sight for sore eyes; her soft, dark hair pulled back in a loose clip, wearing a worn knit sweater that smelled, even from twenty paces away, of home.

The moment her gaze landed on me, a radiant, beautiful smile stretched across her face. “Tauriel—”

Then, the smile faltered.

The color drained from her cheeks as her eyes swept past me, taking in the four towering, heavily armed Fae warriors surrounding her daughter, my soot-stained vanguard leathers, and the swirling gold and black tattoos that laced my body. Fear and confusion tightened her features as the realization set in: I was not supposed to return yet. And I certainly wasn’t supposed to bring any company.

Manem took a heavy, threatening step forward, his broadsword raised, his boots crunching on the gravel. “Identify yourself, mortal—”

I didn’t let him finish. I shoved past Manem hard, my shoulder slamming into his iron breastplate, forcing the imposing commander back a step.

“Put your damn swords away,” I snapped at them, my voice leaving no room for argument. I threw a sharp glare over my shoulder at Caspian and Mal. “Follow me. And try not to break anything.”

I marched up the wooden steps of the porch, my mother dropping her mug onto a side table before pulling me into a fierce, trembling embrace. She held me tight, her breath shuddering against my neck as she squeezed my bruised ribs, but I didn’t care. I held her back, letting the familiar scent of her home wash away the lingering nightmare of the dragon wilds.

When she pulled back, her hands rested on my face, her eyes searching mine with a protective dread. “Tauriel... what happened? Why are you here? Who are these men?”

“We don’t have much time,” I rasped, taking her arm and guiding her inside the cozy, pine-paneled living room of the lake house.

The four Fae males filed in behind us, instantly making the spacious room feel impossibly small. Caspian had to duck his massive frame beneath the wooden doorframe, his royal blue eyes scanning the ceiling beams with dark suspicion. Mal stood near the stone fireplace, his hand never leaving his hilt, while Dax stared bewildered at a framed photograph on the wall. Manem remained near the threshold, a looming, armored monolith of pure hostility.

I turned to my mother, taking a steadying breath. “We aren’t staying. We came across through the portal because we need to retrieve an ancient First Era weapon. It’s hidden further up the coast, in Oregon.”

My mother blinked, her brow furrowing. “Where?”

“A place called the Neskowin Ghost Forest,” I explained, referencing the notes from Lorian’s journal. “The sanctuary is buried beneath the tide where the petrified trees emerge from the sand. We need to make the trek north immediately.”

My mother looked at me, then turned her head to look at the four towering warriors standing in her living room. Caspian’s dark chestnut hair whipped slightly in the draft, while Mal and Manem stood clad in full vanguard plate, armed with broadswords and obsidian daggers.

A quiet silence filled the room before my mother let out a long, slow breath, the panic in her eyes settling into a pragmatic calm.

“All your earthly belongings are still in your room, exactly as you left them,” my mother said softly, pointing toward the hallway. “Go change out of those burnt leathers.”

She walked over to a small ceramic bowl sitting on the entry table, reached inside, and pulled out a heavy set of keys, tossing them directly to me.

“Take the SUV in the garage for whatever you need,” my mother added, a dry smirk suddenly touching her lips as her gaze swept over the four Fae males. “And on your way north, you need to find a department store. You’re going to have to get all four of them some actual mortal clothing.”