1

In the fire’s glimmering glow, the team arranged the canvas bags in a corner of the chamber. They settled into the familiar sleeping arrangements they’d used in the cave with one exception. Emma and Jordan positioned themselves in the back and held each other through the night.

Harper offered to do the watch, but Angie dismissed the notion. “You and Damon need your sleep,” she said, reminding them of the attacks they’d sustained that day. Angie volunteered to stay awake the night, guarding the team and watching for any signs of movement. She clutched her nagamarrow sword in her dominant hand and held a spear in the other. She cast Basic Heal to drive away her fatigue.

As the night wore on, she heard Damon snoring behind her. She smiled, wishing there was a secluded place they could go to. Angie felt the strain of trying to survive just like the rest of the team, a constant pressure that weighed on their minds. The members never discussed it, but she knew they felt it.

She thought of the phone call that had woken them from their sleep one week ago. She wished she could go back and convince Damon to stay in Africa. He’d hoped it would persuade her to settle down with him. What he didn’t know was she had already decided. She planned on telling him after the African assignment.

Now, she lamented not telling him earlier.

The Epiphany project had taken on a life of its own, and she soon realized even if she told him, he’d still want the assignment. Saving a VIP like Harris would be a great final achievement, and there was the payday. He’d said the money represented a better life for them, but she was content with what they already had.

None of that mattered now.

They were here, in a world they didn’t recognize, confronting dangers they’d never encountered. She gazed at him, wedged into the sleeping group. Even as a hairless, fanged behemoth with skin like leather, she wanted him that very second. More than anything, she needed to hold him and connect with his soul again.

Angie stood up and wandered to the guardrail, peering through the courtyard opening above her. The rain had stopped. She saw starlight and radiant moonlight filtering down onto the tower’s stone walls. She surveyed the darkened openings scattered along those walls. Those holes along the interior wall contained creatures she couldn’t even imagine. Still, the rooms remained silent.

Do the monsters sleep, she wondered, or do they pace quietly back and forth, waiting for an opportunity to strike from the shadows? Are they clustered around the portal, ready to attack?

For the second time that night, she wished they were back in Africa. Angie continued to study the openings on the lower levels. She could see the courtyard on the main floor now. The entry portal’s luminous green light streamed across the slate surface. That color, and how it varied, reminded her of the aurora borealis she had observed on a trip to Fairbanks, Alas—

Suddenly, a shadow crossed over the emerald light.

Angie gasped.

The black figure crept away from the portal.

“Brett,” she whispered.

Another smaller shadow emerged. And then another. Each figure snuck away from the green light like they were retreating into the shadows. Tense minutes flew by as she concentrated on the green light, but there were no other movements.

Is Brett going through the portals? she wondered. And who or what is he bringing with him?

Angie stood by the rail, deciding what to do. Her first impulse was to go after him, head him off and surprise him. But that would mean leaving the crew sleeping and defenseless.

“Or I can wake one of them up,” she whispered.

She gazed at the group huddled under the canvas. They looked so peaceful, and the day had been a grind on all of them. Angie decided to stay in the room. She positioned herself against the wall near the room’s portal. She unequipped the spear and grasped her sword with both hands. Then she waited.

2

Brett knew he was exposed the moment he entered the tower. The emerald light from the portal projected his long shadow, which trailed into the courtyard. He noticed immediately the faint flicker of firelight reflecting on the far wall of the courtyard. He rushed to the corner of the room, into its murky shadows. As his wolves came through, he whisked them over.

“Stay here,” he whispered, then hugged the wall, inching closer to the courtyard. With the portal light fanning out and distributing a wider path, he crept carefully into the east side, which remained in shadows. He looked up to see where the fire’s glow was coming from.

Ten stories above, he saw an opening in the tower’s interior wall. The female soldier he had grown to despise was standing at a guardrail, searching for him, but not seeing him in the shadows. She walked away from the rail.

Will she come looking for me? he wondered.

He decided to play it safe and squat in the darkened corner of the entry room for the next hour, waiting to see if she came through. With no alternative means to keep time, he started counting.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…

While doing this mundane task, he thought of Emma. The Wendigo had told him he was wrong about her. A woman with a vibrant sexual appetite was a good thing. He would appreciate that more when they were finally together. Then she would give him everything he’d ever wanted. In a variety of ways. Plus, Emma had a warmth and tenderness about her. He’d seen that back at the orchard when she approached him, following his disagreement with the jarhead.

Two hundred and fifteen Mississippi, two hundred and sixteen Mississippi…

He no longer planned to kill her. He would forgive her sexual promiscuity, understanding that her thriving desires led her to it. He would fulfill all of her urges and they would live together in the realms.

Four hundred and seventy-eight Mississippi, four hundred and seventy-nine Mississippi…

The Wendigo had told him they would conceive a child. Brett had frowned at that initially, knowing he was no longer fully human, even in the digital sense. When they were eventually reunited, he would be even less human. What would their baby be like? Would it be an abomination? The Wendigo had assuaged his fears, informing Brett that the child had been prophesied. “Emma, you’re going to be a wonderful mother,” he confided to the shadows.

Five hundred and fifty-two Mississippi, five hundred and fifty-three Mississippi, five hundred and fifty-four Mississippi…

The Wendigo had explained that the Epiphany realms were not a world in decay, but rather a world transforming and expanding. Their baby would be the key to that expansion. Brett didn’t know how. But he didn’t mind if he had to sacrifice their baby for the greater good. If it came to that, of course. Just as long as he had Emma.

Six hundred and sixty-four Mississippi, six hundred and sixty-five Mississippi, six hundred and sixty-six Mississippi…

The counting continued, and time passed slowly. Brett was patient. He reflected on his miserable life, his tortured existence, and how the Wendigo would change all of that. When he reached three thousand and six hundred Mississippi, he bounced back up. With his three wolves following closely, Brett stepped through the first portal.

3

Before entering each room, Brett used his new ability to peek through the walls. He wanted to see if anything was on the other side. It was a mostly futile exercise, as the adjacent rooms were usually filled with earth.

Then he got to the third room, which was in the basement. He peered through the wall to discover a human body buried in the soil on the other side. Incredibly, the body wasn’t dead. It twitched weakly under the heavy weight of the earth. Brett scanned through the body and found its heart beating… barely.

How could it still be alive? Brett wondered.

With dawning understanding, the answer came to him. The human was being reprimanded. As if in response to this certainty, he saw the body push against the earth that confined it. “Is he being punished?” Brett whispered into the gloom, and was spooked when the Wendigo answered.

“Yes. This man has betrayed me.”

Brett wondered what he was being punished for, but was too terrified to ask. Images rushed through his head and panic gripped him. Secretly, he questioned being devoted to a creature that could do this to him.

Shut up, you dummy! he chided himself. He’ll read your thoughts! Feeling exposed and overwhelmed with fear, he hurriedly constructed a mantra.

The Wendigo will give me life,

The Wendigo will heal my strife,

The Wendigo will deliver my wife,

To the Wendigo, I give my life.

Out between the night clouds and the rupturing glitch, he sensed the Wendigo grinning, and Brett realized he had successfully concealed his thoughts, avoiding the master’s wrath. He took a deep breath and stepped toward the portal to the next room.

“Stop, you imbecile.”

Brett froze. He glanced around the dim room. But, of course, the Wendigo wasn’t there.

“You can look through the portals,” the voice advised him.

Brett was awestruck, asking himself why he hadn’t considered that earlier. Eventually, he was going to stroll into an occupied room, and then what? “I’m such an idiot,” he hissed. Brett focused on the portal.

At first, he saw nothing, but then his vision pushed through what appeared to be finite layers. Brett stood, facing the portal with his mouth dropped open. Each layer revealed an extensive range of colors and the same white dots that swirled through the glitches. After a few minutes, he penetrated the room and there they were, his former teammates, hunkered in the corner. But he couldn’t find the female soldier who had been standing at the guardrail.

Is she hiding in a corner? he contemplated.

Whatever it was, she was out of his range of vision. And it didn’t matter, anyway. The Wendigo had forbidden any interaction with them. He decided to stay put. If anyone came through the portal, he would run. The wolves would keep them at bay and he’d make his escape.

He rested close to the portal and pushed his vision through the mass of bodies that slumbered in the corner. As he did, he could see their blood, their tissue, their bones. Brett finally got to Emma. He seethed with rage when he saw Jordan with his arm around her, and he had to chant to himself to remain calm.

It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter…

More black infusions proliferated around the globes of his eyes, completely covering his remaining white pigment. His orange pupils shone with vitality, like stars against the darkness of dead space.

The Wendigo will give me life…

He explored Emma’s body, scanning past her clothes.

The Wendigo will heal my strife…

He watched her chest rise and fall.

The Wendigo will deliver my wife…

Brett stayed that way for hours until the Wendigo told him he should go.