“Freaky, you say?” The eldritch woman contemplated something, her mind working in capacities beyond comprehension. “Yes, I suppose breaking directly through the fathomless gulfs of the unformed infinity could have adverse effects on one's psyche. But you must not stray from this, Alma. We are finally within arm's reach of our destination. Whatever damage your mind may suffer, I promise to repair when I return to full power.”

Alma sighed. “No. My mind's made up. You don't have to worry. If my mind breaks, then fine, I give you permission to try putting it back together. But for now, please don't go anywhere near it.”

“Very well. You have my word.” Qu'l-Nia flashed her usual emotionless smile. “How shall we proceed from here then?”

“I don't mind a good walk,” said Hwalin, pulling back one of her legs in a stretch. “You don't wanna put too much strain on the ol’ noggin. Choice is yours, Alm.”

“I can do it. Just… let's move somewhere a little more pri—” Alma looked around the barren graveyard. Nothing but the dead surrounded them for several hundred feet. “Actually, I guess we're fine here. Give me some space. I've gotta go back into my mind.”

The other two stepped back as Alma shut her eyes in a sloppy state of concentration. She turned to thoughts of her sister—warmer thoughts. She thought of Zula's apartment and how often Alma would head over whenever she felt lonely. The two often drank together, with Alma usually bringing a bottle of something or other she would pick up on the way. Alcohol always seemed to bring them together and kept things honest between them. Whenever one of them had a problem, they'd drink and talk it out together, like sisters. The young markswoman always wondered if her sister enjoyed those moments as much as she had. She smiled just contemplating the thought. She wanted to go there again, into those moments, when they were happiest. Back to her apartment. Where she felt safest.

“Alma,” a soft, robotic voice called. “Is there something the matter? You have been sitting there for several minutes now and have yet to conjure the portal.”

Alma opened her eyes and scanned her surroundings. “What? Are you sure? That’s impossible. I did everything the way I usually do. There should be a portal here. Maybe it's invisible? Look around! My powers aren't gonna start failing me already.”

“There's nothing here, Alm. I don't think you managed to pull it off this time.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Bullshit. Let me try again.” Alma held a hand to her head while thrusting out the other to the air in front of her. A full open palm, wavering in concentration as she once again shut her eyes, deep in thought.

Her mind drew a blank. Every time she tried to think of her sister or her apartment, her mind turned to the thought of her portal fizzing out. Was she this insecure? After everything that’s happened, how could she not be? Failing on her first day in the army. Almost dying time after time. Embarrassing herself in front of a Sacred knight. And now… even losing her sister. When has her life ever gone right? And now she’s being depended on to save the world from forces she still knows nothing about.

I wish Zula were here. Or Heli. I’d even take Ash, the bastard. Just someone to tell me I’m doing the right thing. I don’t want these two to see how weak I am. That I might not be up for this. That choosing me was a mistake. I thought that maybe if fate were real, this would be it. That it couldn’t possibly be anyone else. I guess I’m a little selfish that way. Alma took a deep breath, her eyes still closed. It was all working so flawlessly before. Why can’t I get this damn portal open now of all times? Am I not feeling the right things anymore? Did I get too complacent? I was finally good at something! I was finally proving to be useful! WHY IS MY LIFE SO SHIT?!

“Yo, Alm!” Hwalín’s voice rang out through the darkness of Alma’s mind. She had placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re looking a little frustrated there. If it’s too much, we can stop. It’s not too far a walk if I’m recalling correctly.”

Alma opened her eyes. It had felt like she had zoned out for hours. She let out a drawn-out breath she had been holding in without realizing. “I’m sorry. I let you guys down. I promise I’ll pull myself together when the time comes.”

“Whoa, mate! Where’d that cool and collected soldier go? The one we all know and tolerate? Surely this can’t be her!”

Alma’s brows furrowed. “…Slap me.”

“What?” Hwalín was taken aback.

“I said slap me.”

“Alm, I ain’t gonna hit you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Do it. Slap me!”

“You need to calm down, mate. Are you even listening to yourself?”

“SLAP ME RIGHT NOW OR I’LL SHOOT YOU IN YOUR FUCKING—” Her face had been forcibly tilted to the side accompanied by the loud striking sound and pain of a sudden blow to Alma’s face. “…Fuck. That hurt.”

“I should bloody hope so,” said the Hecatian, rubbing her palm. “You’re lucky that wasn’t my fist or you’d be down on the ground crying.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if it was. You hit really hard. Are you sure one of those claws didn't get me?” In actuality, the impact had made Alma’s head ring. Her face was glowing red and her tear ducts watered to the point that it had stained some of the eye makeup she had put on before leaving the house. On top of that was the searing pain. But pain was good. It helped clear her mind. She needed the focus—to break out from the cycle her thoughts had become trapped in.

“Don’t cry, Alm.”

“I-I’m not!” she cried.