Dante’s journey through Riordan’s realm went smoothly, up until the point where he had to open a portal to Saridian.

After a few days of healing, Bronwen had been properly stabilized, and Death told Dante it was time to go. He’d had his tense parting with Scarlet, then Death had brought him to the stream of souls, where a boat awaited—a different one than he and Scarlet had taken before—and gave him directions.

Dante hadn’t realized the intricacies of portaling until Death had explained it. Certain points in the Crossworld corresponded with specific areas in the World, so if he wanted to end up in the right place, he’d have to travel within the Crossworld before opening a portal. Gods could freely portal around their realm of the Crossworld, but a mortal like him would have to walk.

He’d followed Death’s instructions, travelling along the edge of the realm until he reached a forest. Then, he cut into the forest, heading deeper into the realm, until he found a large clearing. This part had been easy, and everything had been exactly as Death described.

There’d been one oddity along the way. At the point along his journey where he was to enter the forest, there was a boat shored up on the opposite side of the river. He wondered if it was Ange’s, or if the Crossworld had other travellers. Regardless, he didn’t want to linger and find out if the boat was an enemy’s.

Now he was sitting in a clearing. Before him, a sharp black rock nearly as tall as he was jutted out of the ground. Emblazoned on the stone was Riordan’s sigil. This was the waystone that Death directed him to, a landmark that emissaries used to navigate between the Crossworld and the World.

He was both so far and so close to his destination. Opening a portal here would take him to a place in Saridian near Rosewood, the home of the Vanguard. If Death was honest, the Ravens would be there too, including one of Death’s last emissaries… and most importantly, Jayden.

All he had to do was cut through the fabric between Worlds.

This was his first task since becoming an emissary where he wouldn’t be relying on Death’s power to tide him through. Though he’d been trying for a couple of hours now, he hadn’t managed to summon the amount of power he needed to open a portal.

Traveling to this point had taken him a full day, and after his failed attempts at creating a portal, it was fully night. Only a sliver of one of the Crossworlds’ moons shed the smallest amount of light down on him. The moonlight and the nearly colorless light emanating from the orb he had summoned glinted off the razor sharp edges of the waystone.

His eyelids and limbs were heavy with exhaustion. He’d been sleeping this past week, barely. Scarlet had been avoiding him, so there was no one to save him from his nightmares, but he had to sleep anyway for Bronwen’s sake. Though Death loaned him energy, he needed as much of his own as well. Even with Death’s added power, healing his mentor had been no easy task.

For the first time, Dante felt like a real mage. In his previous life, he had been passive, never feeling like he made any real choices. Becoming an herbalist and healer was his one claim to individualism. He played things safe, and only resorted to magic when he couldn’t help himself.

Now, he had committed himself to being an emissary of Death. It was undeniably dangerous. It was a decision he’d been pressured into—but also against. In the end though, he knew that he had ultimately chosen.

It had gotten him answers, and power, and shunned by his best friend. The answers he had gotten from Death turned over and over in his mind as he tried to make sense of them all.

He did his best not to think of Scarlet, but that was impossible. Her determined spirit. The wry twist of her lips. Her sharpness, contrasted against her softness. Her warm body pressed against his the night they fell asleep together. That night meant everything to him. Falling asleep with her had been an intimate experience, more so than sharing a kiss could have been. But then, her utter rejection. It played over and over in his head.

And Scarlet was dying.

Dante’s visions had intensified since becoming an emissary. Nightly, he dreamed of Scarlet’s death, his own death, Bronwen’s, Jayden’s, anyone and everyone’s. Riordan would come for them all. It was only a matter of time.

He had to change the futures he saw, to get any of them out of this mess alive. But first, he had to open this portal, somehow.

Dante exhaled his skepticism and brought his focus back inward. He took in deep breaths, trying to recreate how he felt when Death’s energy ran through him, trying to conjure strength of his own making. He was a mage. An emissary. He could do this.

A trickle of energy flowed through him, a pittance compared to what he had been using to heal Bronwen. Dante gnashed his teeth together. How could Scarlet do this? She seemingly wielded an endless store of energy when she fought. So what was different, between him and her?

He was timid where Scarlet dove in headfirst. She wasn’t afraid of fighting or of getting hurt. Her flames danced around her, beautiful and deadly. She let her magic run free, drive her, even to the point where it backfired. Dante had to think everything through. He held back, he resisted the call of magic.

But things were what they were, even if he didn’t accept it at first. He was a mage. He didn’t choose it, but he was. Even through becoming an emissary, using his newfound bond to heal Bronwen, he still hadn’t accepted it, he realized. Not fully.

He was one of the gifted, able to access the powers of the gods, to wield it for his own purpose. He was born with this talent, that he had now honed into skill, and it was one he could no longer afford to waste—not if he wanted to protect those he cared for, to defend the powerless from abusers such as Riordan, to turn his World into a better place: one where his sister could live safely without hiding her true self away.

I’m a mage. Magic is a part of me.

With this acceptance, something lifted. A block in the arteries that his energy flowed through loosened, and power ran through his veins. He was more whole. A few more breaths as he gathered this new strength and then he let it flow from his hands, pooling in the air in front of him. The magic formed into a shimmering, mirror-like disk. He pressed his palms onto it, trying to push it open like a door, one that would cut through the barrier between Worlds. The disk shifted, and suddenly there was nothing left against his hands.

The disk was shimmering, no longer solid. Through it, he could see another forest. This one was more green, the colors of the World he had grown up in. The World that Jayden was in.

He stepped through the portal. It smelled like home.

#

On the other side of the portal, Dante realized he was in another clearing. This one was smaller, more enclosed than the one in the Crossworld. He fed more magic to his light orb, but the brightness barely penetrated beyond the treeline. A thick mist hung among the trees, though it didn’t encroach into the clearing. Next to him was another waystone, this one smaller and grey.

Death hadn’t given him instructions from here, though she had assured him that the town of Rosewood was close. Dante picked the direction where the mist seemed the least thick and pushed his way through the brush. He stumbled out onto a game trail. The mist around him was too thick to see through in any direction except one, conveniently following the trail.

Even as the trail twisted and turned, the mist kept clear ahead of him. Dante’s skin prickled, but he kept following the path laid out for him. Even when he emerged from the forest, perhaps out to an open plain, the mist was too thick to see in any direction except for forward, a straighter course now. Not long after, the mist gave way completely.

Dante could see the darkness of the sky arcing above him now, familiar constellations dotting the skies. In the distance, he spotted the dark shadows of buildings, and scattered lights. It had to be Rosewood. He hurried toward it. The mist had left him damp and chilly, but now free of its grasp, he found the night’s air pleasantly warm. He supposed it would be summer in Saridian, by now, though it had been snowing in the Crossworld.

Dante snuffed out his light as he got nearer to Rosewood. Using magic so close to people still put him on edge. Even so, he was spotted as he approached. A half dozen or so figures, lit by torchlight, came from the town to surround him.

They came armed and armored. Hands rested upon sword pommels, and a couple bore bows. They wore a mix of leathers and chain mail. Dante’s palms began to sweat as they formed a loose circle around him.

“Who are you?” a bearded man asked. “How did you get through?”

Dante tilted his head. “Get… through?”

“The mist,” the man clarified.

“It led me through.”

There was a silence, and some nervous glances between the crowd, then the man asked, “Where did you come from?”

Dante evaluated how to answer this. “The Crossworld,” he said finally. He hoped the truth would either be welcome or only cause confusion. He certainly hadn’t known what the Crossworld was before he had been taken there.

A woman spoke this time. “We better take him to Jarrett.”

The man and the woman introduced themselves as Leon and Hera. The group led him into town, then escorted him to a brick house in the middle of town. Rosewood seemed a nice enough place, similar to Briarglen but a bit larger, and with more well-built houses.

The door opened, and a middle-aged man looked out at them. His hair was shaggy, dark brown but sprinkled with grey. He had a fair amount of scruff on his face, which couldn’t quite hide a deep scar on his cheek.

The man, which Dante could only assume was Jarrett, looked him up and down appraisingly, his eyebrows raised. “Another one?”

“Yeah,” said Hera. “He said he didn’t come through the mist.”

“Portal?” Jarrett asked.

“Um,” Dante stumbled. This was supposed to be the rebellion, but still, his heart hammered at the thought of admitting to being a mage. “Yeah.”

“You'd better come in.”

Dante shuffled into the house, alongside Hera and Leon. The others remained outside. “You’re the leader of the Vanguard?” he asked.

“Everyone knows who we are now—I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse,” Jarrett said, and sighed as he reclined onto a large sofa.

“A blessing, I’d say,” Hera said. “Especially if they keep being new allies. Who are you? Where are you from?”

“My name’s Dante. I’m from… well, it’s complicated. I was sent to help the Vanguard. And, my sister, Jayden, I heard she was here—”

Jarrett cut in. “Sent by who?”

“A god.”

“Death.” Jarrett gestured to Dante’s hand when he saw his surprise. “I saw your emissary mark.”

Jarrett was staring at him, a wary glint in his eye. None of these people seemed hostile, but Hera was the only one who appeared to be welcoming. He’d hoped the Vanguard would accept him easily, but Death had warned him that they’d been estranged from the Ravens, so their hesitation made sense. Reuniting their causes was part of his mission here.

“I know it must be hard to trust me,” Dante said, “but I swear to you, I’m here to help.”

Jarrett leaned forward in his seat. “Do you know a woman named Angelise?”

Dante hadn’t expected that. “I met her once. Is she here?” He thought again of the boat, anchored on the river bordering Cascara’s and Riordan’s realms.

“She was, briefly.” Jarrett’s brow furrowed. “She offered to help us fight Riordan. She… has an interesting plan. She’s left for now, promising to bring us more recruits. I’d like to know before she returns if she’s trustworthy.”

“Come on, Jarrett,” Leon said. “How can we take his word any more than we can take hers? He’s a stranger as well.”

“If he has something to say,” Jarrett snapped, “I’d like to hear it.”

Dante cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I have reasons to both trust and distrust her.” Truthfully, his distrust rang louder, after his discussion with Death. But still, Ange appeared dedicated to eradicating Riordan, even if not being explicitly on Death’s side.

Jarrett leaned back again, his eyes searching the ceiling as if they held the answers he sought. “She’s a strange one, isn’t she?”

“She is. And, I would be happy to tell you all I know of her. But, I have to ask—is a girl named Jayden here? She’s my sister, and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her. I’d like to know if she’s safe.”

“She’s here,” Jarrett said. “She’s… okay.”

Dante’s heart leapt. “Can I see her?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll go find her,” Leon said. “She’s mentioned you. I’m sure she wants to see you, as well.”

“Thank you.” Some of the tension Dante held in his body released as Leon took his leave.

“My apologies for jumping right into questions,” Jarrett said. “There’s just… so much going on, here.”

Dante nodded. “I understand. And, I am here to help, so any information I have, you are welcome to.”

“The Ravens,” Hera said, Jarrett shooting her a dark look as she did so. “Have you had many dealings with them?”

“I haven’t met with them personally, but I know they’re on your side. Their leader is an emissary, like me. They want to take down Riordan as much as the Vanguard does, I’m sure.”

“I’m trying to convince Jarrett that we need to work with them again.” Hera gave Jarrett a sidelong glare. “Ange encouraged us to do so as well.”

“Death told me you had a falling out with them,” Dante said. “I’m not sure of the details, but I know we have a better chance of fighting Riordan if we’re all working together.”

Jarrett crossed his arms. “We have a better chance if we’re working with people that can be trusted.”

“I’m tired of your stubbornness, Jarrett,” Hera snapped. “I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but the Ravens have done the right thing. Your emotions are getting the better of you and endangering the Vanguard and our mission.”

Jarrett’s face turned red. He got up and stormed over to point a finger right at Hera’s face. “They let Morgane die! You think that was the right decision?”

Hera stood tall, looking up at her leader. “The Ravens saved the weapons. So, yes, if Morgane had to die to protect what’s important, that was what had to happen.”

Jarrett clenched his jaw, seething. Dante kept his distance from the man’s boiling hot rage. He hadn’t expected the Vanguard’s internal issues to be quite so volatile.

“Morgane would have agreed with me,” Hera continued. “Don’t you think?”

Jarrett pulled at his hair and began to pace the room like a wild animal in a cage. “She was supposed to be here. She was supposed to be the one here, leading us—”

“But she’s not.” Hera caught Jarrett by his shoulders and held him steady. She leveled a serious gaze at him as he breathed raggedly, his eyes darting around the room. “You’re our leader. And we need you to step up and do your job, or let someone else do it. No one would blame you if you backed down. You’ve been through a lot. But we need someone who can hold this all together.”

Jarrett exhaled deeply. Then, the door to his house burst open. They all jumped back as the door slammed into the wall, and Jayden barreled in and practically tackled Dante.

“You’re here,” Jayden choked out through tears. “You’re really here.”

Dante held his sister tight. “I told you I’d come find you, didn’t I?”

After a long embrace, they released each other and Dante took a step back, evaluating Jayden. She was haggard, skinnier than before, and pale, as if her skin hadn’t seen any of the sunlight of this year’s summer. Most shockingly, a long, gnarled scar ran down each of her cheeks. His sister had been magebranded. Dante’s stomach churned.

Though he had no physical injuries, the scrunched look of concern on Jayden’s face told him that he didn’t look great either, with his lack of sleep and the rigorous training that had worn him thin.

“What happened?” he asked her. “How did you get here?”

“Briarglen…” Jayden bit her lip. “The whole town… it’s… and Mom and Dad—”

“It’s okay. I know about Briarglen. You don’t have to say it.”

Jayden nodded, and took a breath. “They captured me. They took me to Kingsmount.” She stopped, and looked away.

Jarrett finished for her. “They put her in a prison for mages. She escaped, with the help of a guard there. Ah, and there he is now.”

Dante turned to see the new figure standing in the door. To his surprise, it was someone he recognized. The faces of the four boys who almost had him burned when he left Briarglen were seared into his memory, and this was one of them. He still remembered his name—Barek. Dante saw a note of recognition flash across his face.

Immediately, Dante stepped between Barek and Jayden. “Stay back.”

“Dante, this is Barek,” Jayden said. “Don’t worry, he’s my friend.”

“He tried to get me killed.”

Jarrett took a step forward. “He did what?”

Jayden turned to Barek. “That can’t…”

Barek’s face had gone pale. “It’s—we had a run in. When my brother and our friends were first heading to Kingsmount to join the army, we traveled with him for a short time.”

Jayden’s voice was deadly quiet. “And you tried to kill him?”

“Keenan thought that he might be a mage and attacked him. I tried to get him to stop—”

“But you didn’t.” Dante surprised himself with the amount of vitriol in his voice. He’d tried to keep the terror he’d felt that day under wraps and focus instead on the miracle of Bronwen saving him. Now that his anger had started to flow out, he couldn’t stop it. “You could have pulled him off me, done something—”

“I’m sorry,” Barek said, and he genuinely looked it. “You’re right. I should have done more. I’ve regretted my lack of action that day.”

Dante’s temper diffused a little. Jayden’s did the opposite.

“Did you know?” she snapped. “Did you know that he might have been my brother, after I told you about him?”

Barek drew in a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You didn’t say a thing.”

“I wasn’t sure what had happened to him—he ran, and we couldn’t find him, I didn’t know if he was okay or not. I didn’t know what to tell you.”

“You could have told me you saw him.”

“I was ashamed.” Barek turned fully to Dante now. “My family pressured me into enlisting along with my brother. I didn’t want to go, but I went along with it. After running into you, Dante… it confirmed that joining the army was the last thing I wanted.

“But I couldn’t just leave. Wren—my brother—wouldn’t let me. So I went to Kingsmount, I enlisted like I was supposed to. They started to train me as a mage hunter, and assigned me to the mage prison. It was awful there. I had to get out, and I managed to break Jayden free when I did.”

Dante stared down Barek. He seemed sincere enough, but still. Dante looked to Jayden. “He was a mage hunter. You trust him?”

“Dante, he saved me.” The look on Jayden’s face was more serious than he’d ever seen on his little sister. “I’m not happy that he didn’t tell me about meeting you. But without him, I’d probably be dead right now.”

Dante bristled, more frustrations rising from the pit he’d shoved them into. Ange, Death and Bronwen, all conspiring to get him banished, and to make him believe one of his best friends betrayed him. Scarlet’s cold rejection still stung sharply. And now, a boy who’d almost helped get him murdered was his sister’s savior, when he wasn’t able to help her?

Dante turned to Jarrett. “And you believe him, too?”

“He hasn’t given us reason not to,” Jarrett said. “I assume you trust your sister, and she trusts him. We’re going to need all the help we can gather.”

Hera gave him a sidelong glance.

Jarrett sighed. “Yes, I suppose that means the Ravens, too. We have no choice but to trust the allies that have come forward. We’ve all taken risks, and to fight Riordan, we’ll have to keep taking them. He’s the one to blame for all the things—all the people—that we’ve lost, or have come close to losing.

“We have a common enemy. So now, let’s unite against him.”