Crossing the bounds of the portal to step upon the earth once again, the welcoming mystic energy suffusing every inch of the Sanctum, I relax. Tension of a traveller returning from afar leaving me, my muscles loosening and the corner of my eyes smoothing, I drift Loki through to float him before Stephen, his brow lifting in amusement, "Sarah." he greets, half a week separating us, "Are you well?"
I smile, thankful for the familiar face, my home away from home touching upon my magic to hail, and say, "Is anyone?"
His humour fades, his face settling and a small frown donning, concern forming in his expression as he looks to regards me. I meet his gaze, my smile softening at his visible worry, and offer with sincerity, "...I'm okay, Stephen, I promise." My actions over the last days clearly catching his attention, my preparing for the assassination of Gamora and making plans for Wanda, it's understandable that he'd be troubled.
Despite the showing of plans and resolve to him and the Avengers, I am, at the end of the day, but a person. There is a limit to my energy and time, my psyche capable of being stretched too far in direction of break, compounding stress eating away at me until I collapse. Murder, murder, death and dealings, time away in outer space and empty dimension, walking atop a differing realm of myth to lay witness...
I miss you, master.
Stephen, his mouth turning down, his goatee shaping in follow, nods slightly, accepting my words for now. Looking from me, a conversation hopeful to happen at a later date depending on result, he gestures in small arc to the elevated, blue body and squints, asking with exasperation, "And why do you have the Asgardian God of Mischief?"
I stir the force holding him, making the body slowly spin around in display and show, revealing, "I made clear the consequences of attempting anything right now, so he's put himself to sleep." I flick a hand to him, channelling the magic of the building to cast, a series of empowered bands forming to wrap around him, a binding on the off chance he managed to deceive my divination.
I watch him twirl, taking what distraction I can, Thanos' arrival nearing with every passing moment, before floating him off to the side of the chamber. Pushing him against one red-painted wall, I secure him in place on a rack, the Sanctum extending out to grab hold and monitor, a confirmation brushing against my mind.
The building one of three, constructed by the Masters to generate a protective shield around this world, its functions and power is such that it can safely pacify and contain the artefacts of gods. Loki may be known as a deity amongst the populations of the nine realms, his position within the Asgardian Royal Family allowing him to lay claim, but, by parentage, he's naught but a Jotun.
If he manages to weasel his way out the clutch of the Sanctum, I'll rage until the sun consumes the earth and Death locks the gates.
That thought in mind, Loki secured in place, I refocus on the situation, not wanting to continue to put it off. My perception having already detailed the opens sections when I set foot – sight, smells, and sounds of the Sanctum reaching me to detail the inhabitants – I ask the patient Stephen, "I hope I haven't delayed the meeting too long."
He shakes his head slightly in negative, saying, "Brunnhilde told us you would be along shortly. She also mentioned that something had happened to Thor, but refused to say what, exactly. Only that she would leave it to you to explain." His eyes flicking to the still open portal behind, the empty storage room of the Statesman showing beyond, he speaks quietly, telling, "I felt what happened on Nidavellir."
I exhale softly, a sense of resignation in my chest at his words, but don't reply, letting silence fill the air; content to wait for him to offer up what he thinks he knows. I did what I did, the outcome chosen and come to pass by my own actions, two lives taken, more damaged in irreparable ways. I've accepted the acts, feeling no remorse or regret in this moment and having come to terms with myself, an aligning of the out with the in.
He continues, "I've no doubt that any being with sufficient training in the mystical did as well."
My head tilting a fraction in confusion, I stare at him puzzled, not understanding him for a moment, when, "Oh!" I start, the day long, before confirming, "The ritual?" I'd almost forgotten, the most recent events somewhat overshadowing the morning, Elder Gods and Dwarves, Kings and Queen departing, "Yeah, Thor's mothers put him through a test. He got a new set of armour out of it; it was pretty interesting."
"I would very much like to know the details in time, but for now..." Stephen's eyes narrow in thought, observing me up and down, the Eye shifting to glint a sourceless light, "I can sense the greater profundity of your inner magic, and how it permeates through you to interact with the world." Looking to me with a twinkle of clear pride, he informs me, "Congratulations to you, Sarah of elsewhen; you've attained the rank of Master."
A movement unseen but perceived, a whirl and curl of ambient mysticism touches me in mantle, a cloak of acknowledgement forming to hang from me. It droops low, brushing the wood below and connecting to the spirit inside, a gentle line of amassed sparks ringing my feet. The visible magic, cast by no human hand, slides forward to shrink in draw, stopping between us and contracting to a point.
I behold, in awe, an awareness to the true life we inhabit, its protecting nature guarding all within its walls and aiding in fight, as the dot rises to change. It floats up in smooth motion, elevating to sit midway, a silent swirl showing on all sides of the steady spell, its bounds beginning to break away.
They flow in ordained pattern, an order of maths displayed with such perfection that it soothes the chaos of thought, until they form a guiding symbol. Two curved lines in centre, two across the lower bounds in support, the Seal of the Vishanti burns into existence with a soft, orange light, an emanation of observation falling on the area.
Acquainted aura, Elder in nature yet different than that known, no touch of earth or fate present, imbues to air of the room to take on a cool aspect. It breezes around in controlled motion, a faint presence gliding throughout, to graze and brush my cheeks. My eyes stay open against the stroke of wind, refusing to blink away all that I sense, Oshturexamining.
She manifests in a movement of her domain, an invisible hand reaching to tap the centre of my forehead in finger lay, a press on my skin. The trained power of my magic travels by call and summon to the site of our connection, outside of my command and by control of Gracious Lady, to gather.
I stand still, not exactly concerned but more patient, choosing not to fight the actions of this god of all things mystic, as a drape takes shape inside my body. Hanging by the tip of her touch, an ethereal curtain of transparent blue by the clasp of her grasp, the press of her divinity retreats, pulling it through to peek and mark.
A warmth between my brows, my magic descending back to resume operation and steep my flesh, a whisper sounds in the quiet, breathing against my ears and declaring, "Right earned and touch granted, Dao Child from beyond the Mystery."
The showing of Vishanti mistress vanishes, leaving without linger to her plane of mind and spirit, the wind calming and ripple of my robe evening. Normality, in so far as can achieved these days, returns to the area in fill of departing deity, the crackling of luminescent seal the only sound. Its light flickering, I raise a hesitant hand to remember the residual sensation, my head lowering.
Fingers brushing the placement, parting my loose hair to feel across my skin, I shift my eyes to look through the blonde strands at the man ahead. I question, uncertain, the sudden appearance of a third Elder God a bit surprising, "...Was that who I think it was?"
Stephen affirms, moving to near the seal, "Indeed."
Stopping my inspection, I drop my hand to watch him, "...And is that what I think it is?"
He takes it in hand, its form hovering above his palm unaided, "It is." He lifts it to me, extending it out to offer, and asks, "Would you like me to anoint you, Master Sarah?"
A giddy feeling plays in my tummy, the address an elevation of my status, an earned change in my standing within the Sorcerers and a recognition of my effort. My eyes shining with unsaid emotion, I walk forward to stop before him and accept, when my face relaxes in a showing of solemn expression. I bow deeply, my hands cupped, to apologise, the face of Yi Hye-Rin flashing across my thoughts, "I'm sorry, Stephen, but I thing that honour belongs to my Sorceress Supreme."
A moment passing, his reaction unknown, I stay bowed until his hand places on my shoulder. Straightening somewhat, I look up to him to see, finding a smile on his face, Stephen having taken no offence. Relief fills me, my response not hurting my friend, when he pushes for me to stand. Following the motion of his force, I unbend to upright loom over him, finding him holding the seal by my chest.
He says, a note of respect in his voice, "Then let her be the one, it is only right. With a student as well-taught as you, she is no doubt a great teacher." He bobs the seal, the magic moving with his hand, and tells, "Take it." He nods to it, explaining to the unclear me, "It will sit within you until the time you return home, waiting to be called forth by your Supreme."
Doing as he says, trusting him to not wish me harm, I scoop it up and raise it to my eyes, Revelation divining,
[Revelation
Name – Sanctum Master Qualification
Type – Magical Seal (Seal, Eldritch Magic)
History – Billions of years before the present day, in the years after the Godwar and the Great Culling, Elder Goddess Oshtur sired the first mortal mystic of earth, Agamotto. Born with an insatiable curiosity and hunger for knowledge, he studied under his sire in hopes of learning all that she knows and more.
These teachings continued to happen until the day of her departure, Oshtur choosing to leave the planet for dimensions beyond in search of secrets and simple exploration.
Longing for her return, Agamotto turned inwards by way of meditation, hoping to uncover clues to her destination. In doing so, he instead managed to stumble upon the first inklings of magic inside himself, the gift of Elder running through his blood and soul. Collating his discovery into the First Form of Magic, Arcanum Ego, the magic of the self, Agamotto then journeyed outwards in wider search.
Comprehending then the depth of his own power, he set out to wander the earth and heighten his knowledge, forming the Second Form of Magic by way of Mother Gaea. With no trace of his own mother in the world, Agamotto realised his folly, understood illusory nature of time and space, and embraced the vastness of the cosmos, choosing to venture out into it in surrender.
His adventures in the universe and its realms granting an awareness of its beauty, but also its dangers, he returned home a more complete being. With his mastery of magic and insight accumulated, he sought to protect his home from the darkness waiting to consume, establishing and taking up the mantle of the earth's first Sorcerer Supreme.
Defending his reality from threats seeking to corrupt or destroy for an age and more, Agamotto took in numerous students over the years to aid him in his fight. These students learning under him as he once did his mother, the Masters of the Mystic Arts slowly came into being; earth's first defence against those that wish it harm.
Limited in scope and reach, their numbers constantly fluctuating with each death and recruitment, Agamotto came up with a plan. A shield around the world powered by the planets innate, mystic energy, he established three Sanctums atop the greatest concentrations of this energy. Each serving as one third of a whole, together they empower a great barrier around this dimension, thwarting the plans of greater evils.
These three Sanctums needing to be guarded by those strong enough to defend them, Agamotto chose from among his sorcerers the most worthy to become Master of these Places of Power. A process that has been passed down for millennia, a position only granted to those with the strength and wisdom required, the necessary dedication to the protection of this world, you have gained the qualification.
Your efforts recognised by the very world itself, your newfound acceptance of what must be done, your constant use and lack of abuse, has granted you this right. Upon return to your own time, show this seal to Yi Hye-Rin and she will consider you as she has before, capability and aptitude to be judged.
Well done, Sarah.]
Thank you.
Seal in hand, I follow Stephen's instruction and press it against my chest to sink it beneath, the magic passing through with no resistance to disperse throughout. Its composition drifting along with every shift of my inner power, I breath out slowly to clear my mind, then look to my friend, "...Lets get his over with."
He agrees, flicking a hand to the portal behind as he turns to show the path forward, "As you say." Waving me to follow, his cape billowing, I move to shadow his steps and exit the hall, a final glance levelled at the imprison Loki as I step out. Closing the door behind me to secure the prisoner, leaving no way out but through, I walk the corridor.
As I pass the shut rooms on either side, a mixture of living and gathering spaces, community studies and private places, I pause before a turn and call out to the man ahead, "Stephen." After he comes to a stop and looks back to me, a questioning look on his face, I point a thumb down the path and tell, "I've got to grab something from my room, you go on ahead. I'll be two minutes, promise."
He sighs quietly, but accepts with a warning, "Don't be any longer, Sarah. This really isn't something that can wait."
I nod heavily, a serious look in my eyes, "I know, trust. If this wasn't important, I wouldn't dare delay." Turning away with a quick sorry left behind, a shrug of my shoulders given, I jog the down the way to my destination. My footfalls muffled by ancient rug on wooden panels, the floor creaking with each rushed step, I push down on the handle and fling the door open.
Stepping inside my bedroom in what feels like the first time in forever, the third such living quarters in as many years, I shuffle over to the closed wardrobe. Whipping open the double doors, my reflection splitting as they turn on silent hinges, I part the hung clothing with both arms. Their metal hangers sliding over the bar with a screech to reveal the covered object, I bend my knees to reach inside and grab it.
The cardboard box in hand, I carry it over to my desk, placing it beside my recovered laptop and solar charger, the tech having not fallen through to the conceptual with me. Leaning down to the draws, I pull the middle one open with a scrape of wood on wood, the numerous, smallish black rectangles clattering against each other in response.
Floating them out as one mass to rise up, manipulating them to stack into a large cube, I lower the shape to carefully place it atop my computer. My hand then waves over them in quick swipe to retrieve, the collection vanishing in an instant to be stored inside my Ring and clear space. With a bit of will, the placed box coasts over my desk to take its place, the tape around peeling off to scrunch up and shoot away, hitting the side of my bin with a tap.
The flaps open in two layers, first above then below, to uncover the item I ordered, a gift for the one I leave behind. A finger curling around the pitch loop at its peak, attached to the square roof of the housing, I lift it free. Its form comes into view to reveal square metal and round glass, greeting the world, when I set it down upon the wood.
I fling the packaging behind to toss it on my bed, the rubbish probably destined to never be cleaned, and close shut the pulled draw. My hand hovering over the handle to the one above, hesitation stopping me momentarily, a vague hope my preparations never come to pass, I force myself to tug it open. A polished, dark wood box showing, an engraving of a blade of grass on its surface and a gold latch securing its front, my hands grab hold to gently pick it up.
Setting it down, the reason for its existence weighing on me, a contingency in case what I feel comes to pass, I undo the latch. The top smoothly opens without a sound, the lightless interior brightened by midday sun, to display the contents inside, a light brown envelope laying over the treasure within. Its removal exposes the item below, the lengthy string, pulled through small hoop to meet at both ends and tie in knot, reflecting in my sight.
The slightest shimmer of orange over the surface of the attachment expressing the magic imbued, I snap the lid shut to lock it away, remembering the day of its creation. It being one of complicated emotion and reluctant explanations, I rest the letter on top and pull a pencil from its holder nearby, then press it against the packet to scratch in plain English, the name of its recipient signed with a kiss,
Vision x
The pencil seated in the crook of my fingers, the actuality of what I'm doing hitting me properly, the situation I've forced myself to be part of rearing its head, I slack forward to rest on my hands. Bracing against the wood, hearing the muffled talking of those waiting upstairs, my head drops until my blonde hangs and I softly utter, scared, my eyes closing to clench, "...Fuck."
If only I could...
Beneath this building lies a door, opened with aid from a goddess of magic and crossroads to sit constant in the stone of the undercroft, the green-tipped hand of Gaea in perpetual view. The many a night I've spent on its edge, watching the gradual repair by one its creators, searching its infinite scope and the stars that veil for the passage home, has been one of pure longing.
Its endless roads of many colours, more than that of a rainbow, wind over and under and around and through to travel over distance immeasurable and support doors and windows and entries and exits dotting the ways. Each and everyone a time and world welcoming to those who risk the journey, only one, hidden amongst the curtain, leads to my home, a light on the stellar blanket of black sky.
...return to you.
My lips pressing white in stress, I draw a long, sharp breath through my nose, then lift my lids to meet reality once more. Pushing away to stand with what courage I find, my spine straight, I run a hand through my fallen hair to clear it from my face and ruffle its strands, the length messy and swept back.
Fingers caught in the wound loops, I grip tight, a small laugh leaving me, before circulating my Chi in distraction and gather in raised palm. Staring at it, the calming emission stirring in carefree motion to soothe me, I shift its composition towards a more stable state. The experience sealing the power of Martin Li honed through trial and error, the light of the green adjusts to change, a conversion happening unseen.
A fraction of my self calling upon the warmth of a comprehended Dao, Sun-Kissed passes through my skin, ignoring the physical, to gently wave atop me. It idly dances, fluttering in slow flow and coat, until it climbs up to flick the Chi. Rising up in draw of its mass, it leaves me to pull inwards and above, streaming high to reach and concentrate into a ball of flickering fire.
Sniffling, I loosen my grip, easing the hurt of my scalp as I thread my fingers free, the flaming orb hovering easy. A portion now extracted to exist beyond me, I work to shape my Chi around and up in wrap, covering the Daofire to contain it within a sphere. Handling it further, I adjust its function until I feel that familiar click inside, the colour of the orb stilling and blurring until nigh-opaque, its existence becoming long-lasting.
Hopefully.
An extension of my Dao outside of my immediate influence but connected still in manner unbreakable by any being, I float it forth to pass through the standing glass. It enters, the obstruction treated as though simple air, to take up its fated position, the core element of this purchased lantern. A beacon shining in one direction to forever lead the way and point true, illuminating the path forward to always find its source, this compass stands as my final bestowal.
By fact of its creation allowing only those I choose to wield it, a cultivators Dao personal and unable to be denied, my surprise disciple of this world is the sole being worthy. With the guarantee of my survival uncertain, a fact that unsettles me down to my very foundation, my condition in the moments after is anyone's guess.
I may come out the other side unmarred, robe ruffled and breath laboured to remain standing, or... I could be fractured whole and spread over the earth, laying crushed and burning and so very dead, the vitality I've so cultivated extinguished by hand of the mad. One moment there, the next absent, I've no clue as to the aftermath.
On the off chance I manage to continue on to see another day, trapped still in this oh so known modern age, then thank fuck. But, if my presence is no longer permitted or allowed, the powers that be greater then any decision by those mortal and beneath, this lantern will serve as a link. Vision someday working his way to me when he's ready, a century or more passing.
I hope, with every atom of my being changing and evolving, that this is the last of my time here, the world around me growing oppressive with every day that passes. I've lived this life once before, lost in my fugue, the days bleeding into any other, time without meaning as I go about what's expected of me.
A broken home girlie finally separating entirely from those who made her, graduating from good school to escape and enter decent university, I looked for purpose. Falling into the sole subject that vaguely interested me and somehow earning a Masters, pointless, meaningless sex with those who approached the only high, my soul was adrift.
My only attachment to life being that of the dog I rescued, the unearned love of Mep breaking the grey, his walks and plays getting me up and moving, I believed that to be all there was. Days to weeks to months and years rolling into spanning decades and gradual ageing, the hollow inside a constant companion, I was nothing, just living to die.
Now, what I've been unknowingly yearning for my entire existence is blocked from me, waiting in perpetuality, existing between one second and the next in an ancient time a world away. Those stuck welcomed me with zero hesitation, who I was of no concern to them when they accepted me as I am, taking me in and allowing me to become part of their family.
This city a concrete jungle of chaos and people, too many to account for as they live their lives, the space they occupy grows at every moment; the noise. The air foul, full of impurities that slowly kill all who breath it, I hate it here. Without those I've grown to know a tether to this place, I'd have walked away, never stopping until I've escaped it all and found silence, found a way back.
I just... I want to live.
I want to go home.
The fire inside pressing against its wall to swirl at me, seeking to return home as much as its master, I look away from the lantern to the signed letter. Burning it into my memory, the words inside for a single individual, I lift a hand to twirl a finger and cast, a tracking slash finding spell landing to infuse, the countdown starting.
A nail scratching the inner of my thumb in agitation, I turn away to put my back to it, no more to be done, and finish up. After closing the wardrobe, what little clothing I have left to hang alone, the mirror showing the messy bed behind, I move towards it to put the final touches in. Grabbing the box to fold it up and collapse it down, I send it out to land in the bin, then grab and fling my quilt.
I flick it up, smoothing and extending it out, the beat wind washing back to flow over me, then lay it down uncreased and flat. A fluffing and pat of the pillows later, placing them side by side in wait of next occupant, sees me retreat to the door. Standing in the frame facing the room, the host of my time here, I bow deeply to the whole, and whisper, heartfelt, "Thank you for having me."
I close the door softly until the latch clicks close, feeling the jolt through our contact to linger in my hand, and leave it all behind. Walking the path back, memorising all that I pass to remember this dwelling that sheltered and looked after me, I take the corner onwards to come to the small railing. A glass border around the opening in the floor, the ascending stairs on my left leading to those who wait, quiet talking reaches me.
Looking up them to the room above, the top of the glass-placed seal calling me, I ascend one steady step at a time, a lamb to the slaughter. My sight rises above the fall of the floor as I climb, the relics around hanging content and sitting in wait, until I lay eyes on the group in the corner of the room.
The space expanded wide to make room for the many individuals meeting today, ordered in two rings by level of importance and role, inner and outer, I approach. The collective turning to see me as I come into view, I offer them a wave, a smile set on my face, when a voice sounds to greet me, a tease in his words, "It seems the absent seer has dared to deign us with her presence at last. Finally decided to join our fellowship, have you?"
Rolling my eyes, I flick a rude gesture to him and retort, "Keep it in your knickers, Tony. Ain't you a married man?"
He scoffs, offended, "I'm as faithful as they come, I'll have you know. Why, womenkind surely weep in my monogamy."
Laughing, I stop beside him and Bruce near the centre of the group, taking the gap made available and nodding to the others present, then lean over and quietly say, "I see Pepper's managed to temper you. What a frightful women." He cocks an eyebrow as he looks to me, a smirk on his lips, before nudging his shoulder into mine to make me rock slightly.
Stabilising, I address the rest waiting, the conversation having paused upon my arrival, and apologise, a hand held up in half-prayer, "Sorry for the wait, you lot, I had something personal to deal with." I slide my sight across those called upon, this gathering of nations and fighters, aliens and sorcerers all, and tell, "Before we get started, I should inform you all that Thor won't be able to join us."
There's a smattering of mutters, the few Asgardian warriors on the outer ring and the edge of the room voicing their worry. Steve, leading this meeting from his position at the head of the Stark provided holo-table, asks with concern. "Is everything alright?"
I nod to him, conveying, "Yeah, he, uh... I think one of this mothers basically kidnapped him."
Natasha, at the side of Steve, replies with the slightest hint of bewilderment, questioning, "Mothers? Plural?"
I wink at her in greeting, getting a smile back, then shrug, "Gods, you know?" Looking back to Steve, I offer, "He may have fucked off, but I don't think he was exactly happy about it, and he did instruct me to tell you his apologies for being unable to aid us. You know, until he vanished before my eyes."
His longish hair brushed back and tucked behind his ears, his uniform donning his superhuman physique and shield on his back, Steve says, a resolute, hardened shade to his eyes, "Then I guess we'll have to play this the hard way." He shifts his gaze from me to check the table, a map and notes shining a cool blue, then turns to find the dark-skinned man to his left, "T'Challa, how long until your forces are ready?"
As he replies, his accented voice soothing to the ear, I look to Bruce on my left, his hair greying and glasses on his face. "Bruce." I call, getting his attention with a whisper, not wanting to disturb the planning and organising, this whole thing out of my wheel house. He starts minutely, his concentration on the ongoings, and shifts to me.
"Yes?" He asks, staring at me.
The smallest gleam of green in his eyes, a feeling of being examined by an other being inside perceived, I continue on, inquiring, "I know you're a smart guy and all, and you'll no doubt be able to contribute to the war by your own merit, but…" I trail off, thinking on my words so as to not offend.
He speaks in my place, a wry smile on his face, picking up where I left off, "We need the big guy."
Sorry, I reply, "...Yeah." Bruce finally free of his cage, on the outside after years of the Hulk being in control post-Ultron, I know it's a big ask. Still, "I don't want to demand exactly, its just… He's needed to combat Thanos' own big guy. You alright with him taking over?"
Dressed in a nice, dark-purple shirt and jeans combo, a belt on his waist and comfortable trainers on his feet, he sighs slightly. Taking his glasses from his face and pulling a wipe from his chest pocket, he cleans the lenses with a quick rub then slides them back on. His mouth opening, he stays silent for a moment, his hesitation clear, "Hulk.. he's been refusing to switch."
I frown at his reveal, confused, that terrible choice by the Russo brothers not meant to start until Thanos beats the shit out Hulk, forcing him to submit and leading him to hide away. Regardless of their dislike of him, that's certainly not a trait he possesses, Hulk never retreating when confronted by those who seek him harm.
"That's… Hm." I hum, in thought, an idea forming. Calling upon my inner magic, I cast the spell of telepathy and connect with the lowest lay of the Astral Plane. Finding the guarded mind of Stephen amongst the crowd, standing next to Wong by Brunnhilde and Heimdall, I knock in request. His eyes turning to find me, I nod at him in confirmation, Stephen letting me inside to communicate.
Link established, I think, 'Bruce is saying that Hulk isn't game to play. I'm gonna try and talk to him, can you keep this channel open so I can piggyback your senses?'
He sends back, concerned, '...The mind of Bruce is like no other, Sarah, do be careful. If you need assistance, don't hesitate to get my attention.' Happy at his confidence in me, my hearing suddenly shorts, all sounds cutting out so as to leave me momentarily deaf. I don't panic, knowing this was to happen, when it rises gradually back into working function, the voices returning overlapped.
Stephen sharing his hearing to help me not miss any word spoken and adjustment made, I say, 'Thanks, babe.'
Grabbing the arm of the surprised Bruce, I step us away from the group, leaving the side of Tony, to make our way out past the outer ring to the space behind. Speaking, my hand spinning in front, I tell, "I think I might be able to help you with your problem, mate."
The portal forming to show the roof above us, the daylight shining down to illuminate the spacious area, one large enough for a transformation, I lead the perplexed man through, imparting,
"Let's get you two sorted out."
Before you get us all killed.
--AN--
Tuesday? But you said Monday!
Sorry, one day later than promised, but better late than never? I'd say it's like two?? more chapters until the beginning of the end, so look forward to it.
I sat on this chapter for a couple days, not knowing how to finish it up. I've probably spent more time thinking on the next chapter, having mapped it all, then I did plotting this one lol. I don't have a good title this time, so I might just wing it… I'll probably forget to delete this section when I choose one, so enjoy this sneak peek into my failing. :)
Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Be sure to point out any grammatical mistakes, and leave any criticisms you have.
Until the next chapter.
xoxo