The portal didn’t open like a door.
It opened like a wound.
Light tore across the air in a jagged oval, edges flickering with the kind of magic that looked too thin to hold.
Hina stepped through first.
The world on the other side hit her with cold, wet air and the smell of moss.
She stumbled.
Her boots sank into soft earth.
Behind her, Sir Reginal followed, armor catching the last flash of portal light.
The tear in the air snapped shut.
Silence rushed in.
No palace.
No marble.
No guards.
Just forest.
And distance.
Hina turned in a slow circle.
“Near Fenward,” she muttered.
Sir Reginal’s head tilted.
“You can tell?”
Hina’s eyes narrowed.
She didn’t answer him directly.
She listened.
Not with ears.
With the part of her that felt pressure in the air when calamity magic moved.
Something was wrong nearby.
Not a single signal.
A cluster.
A knot.
Like multiple storms trying to occupy the same sky.
Sir Reginal stepped closer.
“Oracle Vash said it would put us close,” he said. “But close isn’t safe.”
Hina’s fingers flexed.
“Safe is for people who aren’t late,” she said.
They started walking.
The forest swallowed their footsteps.
After a few minutes, Sir Reginal spoke again.
“If we find Derpy,” he said, “what do you do?”
Hina’s gaze stayed forward.
“I get what I came for,” she said.
Sir Reginal’s voice went careful.
“And if he doesn’t give it?”
Hina’s jaw tightened.
“Then I take it,” she said.
A pause.
Then, softer—still sharp, still real:
“I didn’t come through a portal to ask nicely.”
Ahead, the trees thinned.
The air changed.
A distant sound carried on the wind—voices, movement, the faint suggestion of a town waking up.
Fenward.
Hina’s pace quickened.
Sir Reginal matched it.
Behind them, the place where the portal had been was already gone.
No path back.
Only forward.