She stared at the black stone pillar and her mouth fell open. Like a mini-portal ridge. Or the towers at every single Border rez.
When the ground stopped shuddering and the last of the earth fell, the only sound in Nor’ieth was the slow, heavy flap of luré wings and the occasional screech.
Ember’s luminous violet eyes didn’t leave the obelisk. “What just happened?”
Cheyenne’s mouth worked in surprise before she found her voice. “I think that’s a—”
“Friends.” Yilas’ multi-toned voice rang out. “Thank you for joining us in Nor’ieth. We learn much from visitors. It is our hope that others have broadened their awareness in return.”
“Thank you, Yilas.” L’zar spread his arms and kicked up his heel to deliver a low bow over his extended leg to the olforím. “I won’t speak for the others, but this has been my pleasure.”
Cheyenne scowled at her father. He’s so full of shit all the time.
“Zokrí of the Hirúl Breach raugs.” Yilas turned toward Cazerel and his warriors. “You and yours are welcome to stay as long as you wish. For the rest of you, we offer our blessing of good fortune. May the light of the Weave not blind you to the darkness.”
All around the rebel magicals, the olforím joined their leader. Pale, elongated faces offered small, gentle smiles to the travelers. Lightless eyes gazed unblinkingly at Cheyenne, L’zar, and the rest of their startled group. L’zar focused intently on Neros, his mad grin widening.
Lumil stepped toward the nightstalkers with a raised fist but didn’t summon her swirling red runes. “Feels like we’re missing something.”
Corian snorted and muttered, “What else is new?”
Every olforím around them raised both three-fingered hands toward the black stone obelisk in front of Neros. The pale drow didn’t move.
White light burst from the olforím’s hands and struck the column all at once. The light flared and wiped everything else away.
Cheyenne heard someone shout her name before her body was hurled forward. The air burst from her lungs beneath the squeezing pressure of passing through the Border portal her cousin had opened for them in Nor’ieth. She tried to shout, gasping for air that didn’t exist, and hurtled through the crossing.
Dark lines of black smoke flew past her in the in-between. That has to be what this is.
A booming crack like thunder filled her head, and the next thing she knew, she was lying on her side in a forest somewhere, her cheek pressed against cold, dew-studded grass.
Cheyenne gave a raw, shuddering gasp and started coughing uncontrollably. Her lungs burned, and dozens of tiny lights pulsed in her vision. Her head pounded furiously, sending blazing pain radiating down through her neck and shoulders. She gasped again, coughed one more time, and rolled weakly onto her back with a groan.
What just happened?
Her racing pulse and heaving breath echoed in her ears, drowning out any other sounds.
I can’t move.
She stared at the night sky, stars winking at her through the leaves rustling on the branches overhead.
Cheyenne opened her mouth to shout for Ember, Corian, or even L’zar, but no sound came out.
This can’t be it.
Her vision darkened.
We didn’t even…
The halfling’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she lost consciousness.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The pounding agony in her head returned. Cheyenne groaned and tried to roll over, but all she managed was to slide her arm closer to her side. That’s not grass.
“There she is,” Corian muttered.
“Well, help her up.”
“No,” Cheyenne croaked. “Don’t.” She grimaced against the blazing pain in her temples and behind her eyes and swallowed. “Don’t touch me.”
Persh’al snorted. “She sounds fine to me.”
Cheyenne forced open her eyes and hissed at the bright light hanging from the ceiling directly above her. “Turn that off.”
A shadow loomed over her, blocking the light. The halfling found herself looking into Corian’s glowing silver eyes. “Time to get up, kid.”
“Shit.” She pushed herself slowly off the floor and sat there for another ten seconds while the pain in her head faded to a bearable ache. “What the hell was that?”
Corian offered her a hand, and she took it without thinking. “Looks like your cousin has a knack with portal towers too.”
Cheyenne swayed after she stood, blinking heavily. The nightstalker steadied her with a hand, but she brushed him off. “A portal.” The room spun when she turned around, but she shook off the dizziness and gazed dumbly at the main room of Persh’al’s warehouse. “Here?”
“Not quite.” Corian watched her carefully as she smoothed her hair away from her face. “We didn’t have a lot of time to check specifics, but Neros sent us somewhere in Michigan.”
“Michigan.”
“Your guess is as good as mine, kid.” The nightstalker shrugged. “But we’re all back in one piece.”
“Where’s Ember?”
The front door of the warehouse burst open, followed by Lumil and Ember, both wearing their human illusions. The goblin woman cackled and held the door open for the fae girl. “Not even close, fae. I don’t care where you’ve been or what you think you— Oh, look who finally decided to wake up.”
“How you feelin’?” Ember floated across the warehouse toward the halfling with a small, concerned smile.
“Like I fell from a ten-story building.” Cheyenne rubbed the back of her neck and tried to stretch out the kinks. “Am I the only one who passed out?”
“No, but you’re the only one who stayed out this long.” Ember shrugged. “Even though you’re the last magical I’d expect to be laid out like that. Corian ported us all back here last night. At least, I think he did.”
“Trust me, it’s a blur for all of us.” Corian folded his arms. “I wondered if I’d make it, but we’re all here.”
“Yeah, it was so much fun.” Persh’al scoffed and scratched his shaved blue
