“Like always, all the trouble begins with them.”

***

Callista’s hand fell to her side as Rhodes finished speaking. They were leaving. It really was happening. She was numb as he gave her a quick hug and ran to the opposite side of the basement to collect their bags.

It was a habit leaving them packed for the day they would inevitably be discovered. But today, of all days?

She lifted her hand again, scrutinizing her fingers. Her claws slid out, each perfectly sharpened, her iron tips untouched. How easy it would be to incapacitate whatever Transients stormed the basement. Rhodes’s gift of wind and her own gift of fire could burn through their armor faster than they could react.

“Here,” Rhodes said, handing over her bag. Callista inspected it, checking for tears. Finding none, she slung it over her back, taking one last look at the place she called home for the past three and a half years.

Of course, it was fantasy thinking they’d kill the Transients. Every patrol had at least one receiver with the gift of shields. They’d block off her fire and that would be the end of both of them.

Still, she clung to her dream as she took the first steps for the last time on the stairs. She moved slowly, savoring her home, frowning as she passed the initials both of them carved into the wall.

Something in her cracked. She inhaled, clearing the final steps faster. Rhodes reached the surface and waited for her. She paused and looked back at the basement, restricted to a rectangular view, nothing more than bare concrete floor.

“We will be back,” Rhodes said, but he, too, remained frozen.

“I hope,” Callista said, fishing out her coat and slipping into its familiar warmth. The leather exterior had a glossy finish, and the interior hugged her body, not too tight nor too loose. Her hood was lightweight by design, carrying two layers, one for insulation, one for shade and protection against the elements.

Or in her case, against anybody recognizing her.

“Where is Dryslas?”

“He is making my room look like I ran away. It will be enough.”

Callista forced her face to remain neutral. She loved his father like he was her own. The first few months post-Fall, she could barely get out of her bed without breaking down, refusing to eat until her bare instincts forced her to eat the food he left for her daily, but after those months she grew better because of him.

She looked at Rhodes eye-to-eye. “You can still stay. Nobody knows that you are gifted.”

“And leave you alone to flee? Aside from feeling like both a coward and a horrible friend, in good faith I cannot live in a society that will kill me the moment they discover my gift of wind. Besides, I decided to stay with you years ago. There is no changing my mind.”

“Maybe say that a little more quietly?” she said, pointing at the open window.

“My apologies.” Rhodes tested the back door knob. “Run through here and we get to the Endralova–Cerabin c-node in an hour. The woods should provide a lot of protection. Once we arrive, I will use my identity as a loyal Endralovan to gain access to the c-node, and then we will arrive at Cerabin where nobody will ever be able to recognize you. In Cerabin, we can adopt new identities as immigrants. I have heard there is a sizeable immigrant Endralovan population there."

"We've been over this a thousand times. I know." Yet the memorized procedure failed to calm her jittery nerves. She trembled, hugging the jacket closer.

"They will not ask questions about you. You are my little sister and nothing more. If the worst happens and they do…"

Callista gulped. "We'll handle it if the worst happens."

"Time to go."

Rhodes gave a nod in farewell to the house he called his home since he was born. The distant look in his eye told her far more than the rest of his face was willing to admit. He was as torn as her, but he chose strength, or a convincing illusion of it, over weakness.

She squared her shoulders and followed him out the door. She chose to follow his example even as her body betrayed the ice-cold fear prickling her skin, leaving goosebumps.

The partly-cloudy skies spared them from the worst of the sun's rays as they traversed the vast field that separated the house from wilderness. The wide variety of wild flowers bristled in the wind, attentive as they hurried across to the forest line. Once they reached the first few trees, Callista drew up her hood; Rhodes pressed on, undeterred by the many branches dragging their skeletal hands over his body.

They repeated this routine for some half hour, Callista trailing behind her friend, who parted thick bushes with a sweep of his hand, cleaving them in half. The added wind jostled leaves out of their perches, fluttering down to the ground, adding to the brown carpet that crunched beneath their feet.

Never had she felt so small and insignificant as she did then, a mere speck against the vast forest, except for the night of the Fall, when so many fires burned like bright stars across the dark forests, and the screams that accompanied them ringing in her head even years later.

She shouldn’t have had to stop at that moment, but she did, pressing her hands over her ears to stop the endless shrill screams.

Rhodes whirled around, worry etched on his face. His hands took her arms and gently tried to set them aside, but she resisted, shaking her head. “I can hear the screaming,” she whispers. “Make it stop. Please, make it stop.”

He gave up his efforts and wrapped his arms around her. She was a little girl again, fleeing through the old paths she used to explore and trail down. The smell of burnt wood hadn’t quite disappeared. It clung to her clothing, wispy tendrils choking her as she collapsed from exhaustion, the tears burning hotter than any of the fireballs her mother summoned.

Burning hotter than Callista’s house when it exploded in a fury of flames.

Strong arms had picked her up then, reassuringly. Strong arms belonging to Dryslas, mirrored in his son, who looked nothing like him but still possessed the same kindness and strength that only came with the patient endurance of a life made oppressive post-Fall for all Endralovans.

Callista sunk into his embrace, burying her head in his shoulder. “I’m scared.”

“In these times, who would not be?”

“Are you?”

“I have always been.” He looked up. “The c-node should not be far off. We must be strong until we reach Cerabin, and then we may grieve.” His breathing was heavy, his forehead pressed against hers. “I came with you because I will be your shield. Your family saved my father all those years ago–now I wish to save you.”

Her arms hesitated, dropping by her sides. Rhodes let her go, although he stayed close. “Is it selfish for me to want you to stay with me?”

“Everybody wants companionship. You are not selfish for wanting that. Besides that, I want to stay with you, too. It is an even deal.”

“Thank you.”

“We should pick up our pace, then. If something bothers you–”

“I’m good. Thank you.” The screams were gone, and the shadowy forest was thrust back into its muted lit self, every tree caught in the shadow of some massive cloud blocking sight of the sun.

Another few minutes passed, broken up by Rhodes glancing back at her, or her quickening her pace to overtake him, which he let her before his longer legs inevitably carried him ahead once more.

They repeated this routine on and off for the rest of the hour, knowing they were one step closer to Cerabin and its famed lush rainforests, its tropical climate and the archipelagos scattered all over the planet.

The Transients had mastered naval technology, but their anatomy meant they had an inherent dislike of water, although the more daring among their group could eke out meager swims.

Without the suits, they were useless, and Cerabin had a lot of water. The natives there, the Cerabines, were amphibious. Endralovans had no great love for water, either, but where Transients were few, the water wasn’t so terrible anymore.

Callista imagined herself sunbathing on one of the bigger islands, where there was plenty of land for land-loving creatures like her. With a smaller-than-usual patrol force on Cerabin, her risk of her family line being recognized was astonishingly low.

So close to her new home.

Branches crackled beneath heavy feet, somewhere to their right. She picked up her head, scanning between the trees for signs of the source. She grabbed Rhodes’s shirt and stopped him, then she pressed a finger to her lips, pointing at the Transient patrol picking their way through thick vegetation.

The lead soldier, wearing a gold-lined mask, tore apart bushes with their gloved hands. The gift of strength, or simply somebody who trained their body well. The lead soldier, along with three other soldiers, wore standard Imperial clothing, dressed in black with the standard red crescent marking them as receivers.

Callista held her breath. Her heart thundered, pulse roaring in her ears. “We need to strike now,” she whispered into his ear.

“I am unsure if we can catch them by surprise before they react,” he whispered back.

“We have no choice. Let’s do it like we practiced. If any of them turns towards us, we run. Promise me.”

“I do.”

Callista exhaled slowly, gathering every bit of warmth from the surrounding area. The temperature beneath her feet fell, growing cold, seeping through her boots. Palpable strings of energy hummed through her body. They resonated as she called on her own body’s reserves. Tendrils of warmth flowed through her blood, rushing towards her left hand, her palm warmer than the rest of her body.

The Transients stopped. The masked soldier, their captain most likely, turned towards his soldiers. She ducked, pulling Rhodes down with her. Her hand was beginning to cramp from holding all of her energy there. Vague, rough words crossed the short distance.

Through the gaps in several shrubs, Callista and Rhodes peeked at the unfurling scene. The captain’s hands were balled into fists as they shook their head, pointing at a large tree that stood in the patrol’s path. One of the three soldiers began talking back, their voice smooth like a pond’s surface, only for the captain to break the peace with a gruff tone, near the point of shouting.

“Mesorin nivera colebral tura!”

“That doesn’t make sense. No gift of language there, then,” Callista said. “Not that they need it.” She winced as her hand spasmed. If she released the pent-up energy, she would scorch the immediate area around her, which included Rhodes. “I have to do it now. Are you ready?”

He nodded, his face grave. “As we practiced.”

She peeked, stretching her hand out where the patrol group was. They were not the ones who destroyed her life, but they were Transients, and all Transients were bad. She channeled all of the images of her burning home and the burning forest she liked to explore and all those screams that rang out that single night and screamed herself.

The patrol’s heads turned, but it was too late. A brief burst of light blinded them, and then the fire came after, glowing red and transitioning into orange, and then losing its color as it struck two soldiers first.

A wind gust blew her hair back as Rhodes stepped next to her, feeding the flames and channeling them into a tunnel that caught the captain and threw him back. The final soldier threw himself on the ground and rolled to extinguish the flames.

Callista concentrated on him and fired a burst of flames, varying in color, strengthened by Rhodes’s wind. The lone soldier pressed both hands to the ground. A slab of dirt broke loose, shooting upwards, blocking the fire, although the slab crumbled beneath the vast heat.

The fear in her heart was gone. All that replaced it was a smoldering rage as she saw the same face of the people that destroyed her life. She lurched forward, both hands scorching hot as miniature flames coated them.

“Callie!” Rhodes shouted, grasping at her shirt. She leapt over a forming slab of dirt, dodged several holes crumbling ahead of her, and fired a stream of flames at the soldier. A third slab shot up, slower than the first and second.

She swung a leg out. The tip of her boot connected with the soldier’s chest and he flew backwards. The slab disintegrated. She aimed for his heart and took one final bit of energy from her own body to cast the flame.

He spasmed, his leg catching hers and knocking her off her feet. She fell into an open pit of dirt, rushing in to bury her. She pushed herself up only for the soldier to lean forward, punching her face.

Her ears rang. She fell, crying out, eyes watering from the pain. The silhouette of the soldier wavered and moved towards her.

Another shape crashed into the soldier. He screamed, but the furious roaring of wind cut him off. She wiped her eyes. Rhodes picked the soldier up by his uniform’s shirt and pressed a palm to his chest. Air rushed into the tiny space between Rhodes’s hand and the soldier, suddenly expanding. A sickening crunch sounded out, followed by the dull thud of the soldier’s body on the same ground he had manipulated.

“Callie,” Rhodes said, rushing by her side. She shook her head, rubbing her jaw. It was throbbing, painful to the touch. “Did he hurt you badly?”

“It’s not that bad,” Callista said. She let out a shaky breath. “Wow. We just killed four Transients.”

“We have to leave now. We are lucky the last soldier never launched a flare.”

It all happened so quickly. She dug a hand into her hair. Without the power flowing through her, her entire body felt heavy. Walking seemed like such a distant task. “Cerabin–”

“Is waiting for us. We cannot hesitate.”

Something glimmered behind him. “Huh?”

“What happened?”

“Wait.” Callista dragged her feet off the ground, nursing her jaw with one hand, the other calling on her energy again. Her body ached in protest and weak strands of energy warmed her palm. A fraction of the first time. “There’s something over there.”

Behind a cluster of trees, the air rippled. Distorted. Colorful threads broke into existence around the edges, squirming randomly, burrowing into the distorted folds in the air and vanishing. The distortions formed a rough oval, long and narrow, no taller than Rhodes.

“What in the grid…”

He gasped. She whirled around, expecting Transients to rush in from all sides, but Rhodes’s eyes were wide, fixated on the pulsating patch of air that distorted without any reason. “Was that there moments ago?”

“No.”

Her memories were a blur. But when they’d analyzed the patrol, the distortion should’ve been obvious. It grew ever-brighter, larger, the colorful threads squirming frantically. Callista took a few steps back, while Rhodes took a few steps forward.

“Rhodes, get away from that thing.”

“It is not simply a thing.” When he turned back to face her, his lips parted open in amazement. “It is a node.”

A node. “Impossible.” Yet she had never seen anything like the anomaly before her. “None of us know what a real node even looks like. The stories say after the Unbinding, all of the nodes died. Transia pioneered the c-nodes. Their networks grew, but nobody’s ever seen something like this.”

“You have seen part of it, have you not? C-nodes have the distortion, without the color. I traveled through the Endralova–Hwou node once. This is one of the old nodes. Before the Unbinding. Tell me you see the similarities between a c-node and this.”

She did. Her parents were ambassadors, having retired when she was born to take care of her. They traveled to several worlds during her childhood, and every c-node had the same rippling effect on the air.

She was dumbfounded, because nodes by themselves were supposed to be impossible. They were natural events of a by-gone era. “I–then what… what caused this to happen?”

“I do not know. Where do you think the node leads?”

“Somewhere random in the grid.” It could lead to any world. Anywhere. The possibilities made her head spin. “This is unheard of. We can’t tell anybody about this, though.”

“The Transients would be made very well aware.”

“Of course.”

Callista and Rhodes jumped. The air distorted nearby, unmasking three Transient soldiers, their height and muscle towering over the two of them. The first Transient lunged. The surrounding trees followed his movements, their branches growing and growing and about to wrap around Rhodes first–

She summoned the last of her strength and wrapped her arms around his torso. Dragged the heat from her environment and kicked off her boots. Flames shot out of her feet, propelling them backwards, straight into the anomaly, the node that should have never existed.

The last she saw of the Transients was their utter astonishment as Rhodes and herself vanished into another world.

***

“Wow,” is all Liam has to say as Callista pauses. She grabs another bottle, uninvited, and drinks it halfway before setting it down.

“I cut through some parts and sped up some others. You don’t believe me about finding a real node, do you?”

“I do,” he says blankly, processing what she has just said. There are more worlds, just like he suspected. Cerabin. Endralova. Hwou. All names that sound fantastically different. All probably with fantastically different people, too.

It’s the way she described finding the node that sends chills down his spine. The colors she mentioned brings back the memory of his bathroom, faintly lit by the rippling distortions of the air. Then does that mean that Earth is a part of whatever universe or multiverse that Cerabin, Endralova, and Hwou are part of?

The possibility–the possibilities–steals his breath away. There is no normal life he can return to on Earth, if they ever figure a way back. Piece by piece, he is beginning to understand this convoluted puzzle that he was thrown into. Cora might be piecing together a similar conclusion, but he is afraid to speak to her about it without alerting Callista that they have no idea what she’s talking about.

But context clues help. Nodes are like portals. There are gifts, and they give superpowers to people. She’d mentioned something about language. To understand people universally, perhaps? Callista has fire, so why didn’t she torch them when they woke her up?

So many questions, not enough answers. He can’t ask her without her realizing that he and Cora don’t belong to whatever system of reality Callista comes from. It strains his mind trying to understand it all.

“That’s not all, is it?” Cora says. “Because your friend Rhodes… isn’t here.”

Callista sighs. “I’m getting to it. I don’t want to remember, but you have to know my story if we’re going to work together.” Liam doesn’t remember agreeing to have Callista stay with them, but she’s a valuable source of information.

She doesn’t look like somebody who would ever hurt somebody, on the surface at least. The way she talks about that same group of people–Transients–however, makes him realize that she is far more of a fighter, like the small kids he remembered during his foster years who possessed the sharpest bite.

Dangerous, and a threat. But he needs to approach carefully.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Liam says. “If you’re ready.” He can’t lose Callista, not when he’s coming closer to solving the puzzle.

Cora nods. “Remember, you really don’t have to tell us. Don’t hurt yourself just for our sakes.”

“I’ll be fine. The past already happened, and you need to know everything.” She takes a deep breath. “We traveled through the node. And then the node took us to the Mestessines.”