The adrenaline of the lunch rush had finally evaporated, leaving behind only the smell of bleach, stale grease, and the lingering, metallic tang of violence.
Marcus flipped the sign to CLOSED an hour early. He didn't care about the lost revenue. He cared about the fact that his hands were still shaking—not from fear, but from the sheer, exhaustion-inducing effort of keeping a lid on a nuclear reactor that looked like a diner.
He pushed a mop bucket across the linoleum, scrubbing at the spot where Ty Miller had vomited.
"You know," Marcus muttered, wringing out the mop head with a wet slap, "I used to think the Pig-Men from the Shadow Wealed were the worst guests we had. At least when they tried to kill us, it was instinct. They were just... hungry insane beasts. These locals? I think they just do it because they're bored."
Nix was hopping up onto the bar stools, his legs dangling. Standing, he came up to about Marcus's waist, but sitting up here, he looked like a miniature, brooding Brad Pitt in a kid-sized leather jacket. He was picking his teeth with a splinter of wood.
"The Pig-Men had more focus," Nix remarked, spitting the splinter onto the floor. "And they didn't drive trucks. But that guy Ty? He was just noise wrapped in cheap denim. Zero stars. Would not recommend."
Pearl was behind the counter, standing on a crate so she could reach the drying rack. She was methodically restacking the glasses she had almost shattered during the brawl. She paused, holding a tumbler up to the light to check for spots.
"He wasn't very bright, either," Pearl said, her voice sounding tired but distinctly human in its annoyance. "I've met moss in the Deep Woods with better situational awareness. He folded the second pressure was applied. Humans are... squishy."
"They're savages," Eira said from the corner booth.
She wasn't cleaning. High Sorceresses did not mop. She was sitting with her legs crossed, sipping a glass of iced tea that was freezing over in her grip, the condensation turning into intricate frost patterns on the glass.
"They are loud, they smell of fermented grain, and they possess no honor," Eira continued, her green eyes tracking Marcus as he moved. "You defend them, Marcus. You stop me from turning them into lawn ornaments. Yet they attack you."
"I don't defend them," Marcus said, leaning on the mop handle. "I defend us. If you turn Ty Miller into an ice sculpture, the National Guard rolls in with tanks. And tanks are bad for business."
Eira scoffed. "Tanks. Metal boxes. My frost could shatter their engines before they fired a shot."
"Maybe," Marcus conceded. "But there are millions of them. And only one of you."
Eira fell silent. She swirled her tea, watching the ice crystals form. The afternoon sun caught the sharp angles of her face, highlighting the alien perfection that made her look just slightly too symmetrical for this world.
"It is a strange bargain we have struck, Anchor," she said softly.
Marcus looked up. "What is?"
"The trade," Eira said. She uncrossed her legs and stood up, walking toward him. The air temperature dropped five degrees as she approached. "I look at these humans... these 'Texans'... and I see cattle. Dangerous, stampeding cattle. My magic could shield you from them effortlessly. I could erect a ward around this building that would boil the blood of anyone who crossed the threshold with ill intent."
She stopped in front of him, reaching out to trace the line of the counter with a long, pale finger.
"I can protect you from your world, Marcus," she whispered. "I can make you a King in this... Weedfield."
"I don't want to be a King," Marcus said, feeling the chill radiating off her. "I just want to pay the electric bill."
"But you cannot protect yourself from my world," Eira countered. Her voice dropped an octave, losing its haughty edge and becoming something darker. Something afraid. "The High Vale is not just elves and magic, Marcus. You have seen the fringes. But the Deep Courts? The Iron Lords? The Void-Stalkers?"
She looked at the kitchen door—the door that led to the basement, and the Gate.
"They are coming," she said. "The Slipgate leaks. It calls to them. And when a High Lord comes through that door, Marcus... your shotgun will be as useful as a paper fan."
Liri, who had been wiping down the tables with a lethargic, cat-like grace, stopped moving. She looked up, her emerald eyes serious for once.
"She's right, Boss," Liri said. "The signals are getting louder. Something big was scratching at the other side last night. Pearl heard it."
Pearl nodded, hopping down from her crate. "It sounded heavy. Big claws. Definitely not a Pig-Man. Maybe a Class-4 Siege Beast. Or something older."
Eira stepped closer to Marcus, her emerald-green eyes locking onto his.
"I need you, Marcus," she admitted, the admission clearly tasting sour in her mouth. "My magic is strong, but here? In this dimension? It is... thin. It drains me to use it. I cannot fight the Deep Courts and hold the reality anchor at the same time. I need you to be the wall."
Marcus looked at his crew. The Glimmuck rogues, the energy vampire, and the haughty sorceress. They were terrifying creatures in their own right, but here, in the fluorescent light of a Texas diner, they looked strangely vulnerable. They were castaways. Refugees hiding in plain sight.
"So that's the deal," Marcus said, squeezing the mop handle. "I keep the rednecks and the government off your back. You keep the monsters from eating my face."
Eira offered a rare, genuine smile—small, sharp, and dangerous.
"A symbiotic relationship," she agreed. "I handle the High Vale. You handle the... locals."
Marcus looked out the window at the dusty parking lot. He saw Ty Miller's truck was gone, but the oil stain remained.
"Deal," Marcus said. "But next time, let's try not to crush anyone's junk unless it's an absolute emergency. I don't want to explain that to the Sheriff."
Nix snorted from his perch. "No promises, tough guy. It's a rough world out there."
Marcus turned back to the mop bucket. The lunch rush was over. They had survived the skirmish with the townies. But as he looked at the heavy steel door of the kitchen, the dread settled back into his stomach.
Whatever was scratching at the door downstairs wasn't looking for a burger. It was looking to get in.
The silence in the diner was heavy and thick. It felt like a physical weight that settled over the red vinyl booths and the checkered linoleum floor. Marcus leaned his weight against the mop handle. The wood dug into his calloused palm. He took a slow breath. He inhaled the scents of lemon cleaner and old grease.
He looked down at the scuffed floor. He was trying to piece together the chaos of the last hour. The violence had been sudden. It had been irrational. The Miller brothers were drunks. Everyone knew that. But they were usually happy drunks. They were the kind of men who sang off-key country songs and passed out in the bed of a pickup truck. Today they had been different. They had been rabid.
Marcus lifted his head. He looked at Eira. She was standing near the window. The sunlight filtered through the blinds and illuminated her sharp profile.
"Things do not just happen for no reason," Marcus said. His voice was rough with fatigue. "Not in my world. And I am guessing not in yours either."
Eira turned to face him. Her eyes were striking. They were a deep and vivid emerald green. They held a depth that seemed to go on forever. She tilted her head slightly. A lock of silver-white hair fell across her cheek.
"Chaos is rarely random," she agreed. "It is usually a symptom."
Marcus nodded. He walked over to the nearest booth and slid into the seat. He rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples.
"I have been thinking about the rocks," he said. "The foundation of this whole place. The basement. The tunnels."
"The earth?" Eira asked. She moved away from the window. She glided across the floor with a grace that made her seem like she was floating. "The earth is old, Marcus. It remembers things."
"It is more than that," Marcus said. He lowered his hands and looked at her. "I think there is some type of magnetic force in the rocks that has changed. Maybe a gravitational pull that has shifted its direction. I am not a scientist. I don't understand the physics of it. But I know what it feels like when the air pressure drops before a storm. This feels like that. But underground."
Pearl hopped up onto the table next to him. She sat cross-legged. She looked like a child but her eyes told a different story. They were sea green. They were flecked with bright gold specks that seemed to swirl when she blinked.
"Magnetic realignment," Pearl said. Her voice was thoughtful. "It would explain the interference in the local electrical grid. And the headache I have had since Tuesday."
Marcus pointed a finger at her.
"Exactly," he said. "A geologist would probably figure it out in an hour. They have sensors for this stuff. They can map the density of the bedrock and tell you if things are shifting."
"And where do we find a rock-wizard in this wasteland?" Nix asked. He was leaning against the jukebox. He was cleaning his fingernails with a small blade. "Do they congregate in the taverns?"
"I know some people," Marcus said. He looked out the window at the empty road. A grim expression settled on his face. "I was in the military. Marine Special Forces. You meet a lot of different specialists when you are deployed. We worked with the Army Corps of Engineers all the time. They deal with this kind of stuff constantly. Dams. Bridges. Tunnel collapses."
Eira frowned. Her emerald eyes narrowed slightly.
"Soldiers," she said. The word was cold. "You want to bring an army here? To the Gate?"
"Not an army," Marcus corrected. "Engineers. They are the guys who fix things. They can take a look into this. They can run their tests. But we cannot let them know what is actually going on. We can't show them the basement. We can't introduce them to you."
"Deception," Eira mused. She walked over to the table and traced a finger along the chrome edge. "I am familiar with the concept."
"It is necessary," Marcus said. "At least they could give us some indication as to what is going on geologically. Because this? The Miller brothers trying to tear the place apart? That doesn't make any sense. The townspeople here do not normally act like this. They are loud. They are obnoxious. But they aren't violent."
Liri was wiping down the counter a few feet away. She paused in her work. She looked over her shoulder at Marcus. Her eyes were the same striking emerald as Eira's. But where Eira's gaze was cool and commanding, Liri's was softer. It was more intense.
She watched the way Marcus's shoulders moved as he spoke. She noticed the strength in his forearms. She saw the tired lines around his eyes. She felt a strange tightening in her chest. It was a sensation she was not used to. In the High Vale, she was a warrior. She was a servant of the court. She did not have time for softness. But here in Texas, things were different. Marcus protected them. He stood between them and the strange, loud world outside.
Liri realized with a sudden jolt that she wanted to stand between him and the danger too. She turned back to the counter. She scrubbed at a stubborn coffee stain with more force than was necessary.
"Something is making them crazy," Marcus continued. He was unaware of Liri's gaze. "Or at least it made Ty and his brother crazy. Some of the others seem kind of normal. But if the magnetic geological forces have realigned somewhere around here, it could be messing with their heads. Infrasound. Frequencies. I read about that once."
"And the Gate?" Eira asked quietly.
"Whatever the Slipgate was preventing seems to be coming apart in certain areas," Marcus said. "And it is all happening right here. Under our feet."
He sighed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered leather wallet. He opened it and stared at a small, faded card tucked behind his driver's license.
"So maybe the next step is to call these guys in," Marcus said. "I can tell them that we are having some geologic disturbances here. Potential sinkholes. Unstable foundation. I definitely have a few favors I could call in."
He ran his thumb over the edge of the card. He remembered the woman who gave it to him. Rainey.
Rainey had been beautiful. She had hair like spilled ink and a smile that could stop a heart. She was brilliant. She was dangerous. She was the best liaison the Corps of Engineers had ever produced. She was also the woman who had double-crossed him in Fallujah. She had left him stranded for twelve hours in a hostile zone to secure a promotion.
He hadn't spoken to her in two years. But she owed him. She owed him her life.
"Let's see what happens there first," Marcus said. He shoved the wallet back into his pocket. "Maybe that might be the simplest solution. Get the experts to tell us the ground is broken. Then we figure out how to fix it."
Eira looked uneasy. She wrapped her arms around herself. It was a gesture that made her look smaller than usual.
"And what if I cannot get back?" she asked. Her voice was barely a whisper.
Marcus looked up at her sharply.
"What do you mean?"
"If the ground shifts too much," Eira said. "If the magnetic forces realign permanently. The path to the High Vale could be severed. I could be trapped here. In this... Texas."
"We will have to address that before these engineers do anything," Marcus said firmly. "Like I said. This is the government. It will probably take them years to approve a project anyway. That is normally how they work. Nothing is very quick. We have time." But outside that door is way more than Texas.. did you know that?
Eira did not look convinced. She walked closer to him. She stopped just inches away from his knees. She looked down at him. Her emerald eyes searched his face.
"And what about our Skybond?" she asked.
The room went very quiet.
Liri stopped scrubbing the counter completely. She turned around. She watched them. Her grip on the rag was white-knuckled.
"The consummation witnesses?" Eira continued. "The ritual is binding, Marcus. It requires the blessing of the High Court. If I cannot return... if we cannot return... the bond remains unsealed."
Marcus looked at her. He saw the fear behind the arrogance. He saw the woman beneath the sorceress. He reached out and took her hand. Her skin was cool to the touch. It was smooth like polished marble.
"I haven't changed my feelings in any way about that," Marcus said. His voice was steady. It was deep. "Skybond or no Skybond. Witnesses or no witnesses. I am in this. You and me."
Liri felt a sharp pang in her stomach. It felt like she had swallowed a stone. she watched Marcus's thumb brush over Eira's knuckles. It was such a small gesture. It was so intimate. She felt a sudden, hot flash of jealousy. She looked away. She focused her emerald gaze on the napkin dispenser. She forced herself to breathe.
"I don't know if the High Vale people will be able to help us," Marcus admitted. "And I don't know how easy it is for us to get back in and out of here. Right now it seems kind of easy. But that seems to change almost day to day. Yesterday the door felt heavy. Today it felt light."
"The veil thins and thickens," Pearl said from the table. She was watching the interaction between Marcus and Eira with her sea green eyes. The gold flecks in her irises seemed to spin with curiosity. "It breathes. Like a living thing."
Nix hopped down from the jukebox. He walked over to them. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.
"We are here now," Nix said. He shrugged. "Texas is loud. It smells like burning meat and gasoline. But the food is acceptable. And the weapons are loud. I do not mind it."
Pearl nodded. She uncrossed her legs and hopped down to the floor.
"I do not mind it either," Pearl said. "It is interesting. The humans are fragile. But they are inventive."
Liri finally turned back to the group. She kept her face neutral. She pushed the feelings down deep where she could ignore them. She was a soldier. She would do her duty.
"We will make it work," Liri said. Her voice was calm. "We always do."
Eira looked at her hand in Marcus's grip. She squeezed his fingers gently.
"Yes," Eira whispered. "We will make it work. But first... you must call your Rainy. You must call the Iron Men."
Marcus nodded. He released her hand. He stood up. The moment was broken. The tension in the room shifted from romantic to tactical.
"I'll make the call tonight," Marcus said. "But I'm warning you. Raina is... difficult. She is a shark in a dress suit. If she comes here, everyone needs to be on their best behavior. No magic. No floating tea cups. And definitely no turning people into lawn ornaments."
Nix grinned. It was a sharp, toothy expression.
"We will be perfect angels," Nix said. "Scout's honor."
Marcus looked at the Glimmuck. He looked at the Sorceress. He looked at the lovesick warrior wiping the counter. He looked at Pearl with eyes like the sea.
"God help us all," Marcus muttered.
He turned and walked toward the office in the back. He needed to find a phone. He needed to find a bottle of aspirin. And he needed to prepare himself for the sound of Raina's voice.
Outside, the sun began to set over the flat Texas horizon. The sky turned a bruised purple. The ground beneath the diner hummed with a low, vibrating energy that only the rocks could hear. The Slipgate was waiting. And it was hungry.