But I don't share that. I retract my thorns, set my jaw, and walk toward the perimeter line where Thrak's soldiers are already fighting.
There's work to do.
Kaelren, wherever you are—hurry.
This time, the landing is smooth.
No violent lurch, no ear-popping pressure change, no feeling like the universe is wringing me out like a wet dishrag. One second I’m choking down half-formed wish water in a collapsing temple while a wyrm eats the other version of me, and the next I'm just... standing on solid ground.
The wish. It actually worked. At least the transportation part. Whether it got the destination right is another question entirely, considering I choked on the water before I could finish the thought.
I open my eyes.
Pink.
Everything is pink.
The sand beneath my boots is the color of crushed rose petals, like someone ground up seashells and blush and scattered them across the shore. The water stretching out in front of me is the same shade but deeper, richer, catching the light in ways that make the surface look like it's been mixed with liquid pearl. Small waves roll in and out with the lazy rhythm that makes you think the ocean itself is half asleep.
It is, without question, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
And I have seen some wild stuff at this point. Bioluminescent forests, underground crystal caverns, a beetle riding a giant sandworm like a rodeo cowboy.
I take stock of myself. Still wearing the same sand-caked clothes from the Barrens. My hair is matted and disgusting. My palms are scraped from wrestling with myself, literally, on the temple floor. But I'm alive, I'm standing, and nothing is currently trying to eat me, enslave me, or collapse around me. By recent standards, this is a vacation.
I scan the shoreline. To my left, the pink beach curves into a small cove where dark rocks jut out of the water, forming a natural sheltered area with a wooden dock. And sure enough, there's a small rowboat approaching it, someone pulling at the oars with strong, even strokes.
I walk toward the dock, keeping my guard up because the last time I trusted a peaceful-looking setting, I got ambushed by twenty of Auradelle's soldiers.
The figure in the boat gets closer, and I squint against the light reflecting off the water.
Dark hair. Olive skin. Green eyes I'd recognize anywhere now.
Thalia.
She rows the boat up to the dock, loops the rope around a post, hops out. She’s wearing different clothes than last time: a loose linen shirt, dark pants rolled to her calves, bare feet. She looks rested.
"You made it," she says. There’s genuine relief in her voice.
I stop a few feet from the dock, cross my arms. "Let me guess. The Sage sent you again."
Thalia tilts her head, gives me that half-smile I’m starting to associate with people who know more than they’re telling me. "Does it matter?"
"It matters to me. I’d like to know who’s pulling the strings on my little interdimensional scavenger hunt."
"Fair enough." She reaches into the boat, pulls out a folded bundle of clothing. Clean. Soft-looking. She holds it out to me. "Here. You look like you crawled through a sandstorm, then got in a fistfight."
"I crawled through a sandstorm, then got in a fistfight. With myself." I take the clothes. They smell like salt air, something floral I can’t name. "Where are we?"
"The Starblush Sea." Thalia gestures at the expanse of pink water behind her. "One of the oldest places in Wynmire."
"It's incredible."
"It is." She watches me for a moment, something flickering behind those green eyes. "Change your clothes. I have a surprise for you."
"The last surprise someone gave me in Wynmire was a magical corruption mark and a one-way ticket to an interdimensional crisis. So forgive me if I'm not jumping for joy."
Thalia just smiles. "You'll want to see this one. Trust me."
