Page 82 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

He goes first, keeping me close behind him as we approach. The creature watches us, its head tilting before lowering itself to lie flat on the ground. Even then, its head is twice the height of Ryker.

Two small panther-like creatures with white fur and gold spots bound through the thick grass and twirl playfully around our ankles. Larger cats emerge—protective, watchful.

These must be their babies.

I fall to my knees and stroke my hand along the backside of one of them. It makes a purring sound before licking me across my face. Its white fur is thick and heavy, and its big blue eyes soften. When it sneezes, iridescent wings flare and scatter glitter across my cheeks.

I laugh, pulling the fuzzy creature into my chest, pressing my face into its fur. Their fur is softer than anything I've ever felt. It purrs louder, but when the mother steps closer, Ryker helps me stand.

“Well?” I ask, still cradling the little creature.

He looks down and runs a hand over the small fuzzy creature before setting it back on the ground. “This was your idea, Princess. I’m just here for the view.”

I slap him. “You’re incorrigible.”

I look to the beast still watching us. “Any ideas?” I ask it as if it can understand me.

It tilts its head toward the water, its eyes moving to the shore.

I glance at the water, exhale slowly, then turn back to the creature. Why did I think this was a good idea? “I need to get to Sgya. To talk to the gods. Do you know where to go?”

Ryker grins, amused that I’m talking to mythical creatures now. When my hand swings out, punching him in his stupid, solid arm, he snorts.

Again, the creature's eyes move to the shore. I groan and then stomp over to the water. I’m about to say something sarcastic about not needing to drink or something when a golden light flies through the water, disappearing.

I pause as I watch another do the same. Some sort of glowing fish comes from the falls and stops in front of me, sinks, and disappears. I can see the rocky surface below the water, but there’s a dark spot.

“I have another hunch,” I say.

“Uh-oh.”

“I think the portal is in the water.”

Ryker studies the current, then the beast, which blinks like it’s waiting for us to figure it out. “Let me go first. I can hold my breath longer.” He tosses his Prism into the pod and steps in.

“Shit,” he hisses, treading for the center. “It’s cold as fucking ice.”

“Like Sgya,” I say with a smile, already feeling like we’re at the right place. “You have to dive fast. The water almost killed us last time.”

I trail off as he glances back. “Right. Be safe.” He disappears beneath the surface.

A full minute passes.

When he resurfaces, he’s shivering—but his magic hums with heat. “Swim fast, love. Stay right behind me.”

With one last glance at the beautiful creatures who’ve come to see who we are, I wade in. Ry holds out a hand, helping me into the water. I yelp when the familiar cold bites into my skin through my clothes. Gods, I hate this. I was hoping to never experience this level of cold again.

“Deep breath.” I dive, and the cold is a physical assault that tries to squeeze the air from my lungs. I follow Ryker’s silhouette through the dark churning pool, my mind screaming at the memory of the last time this water almost claimed us. Then, the ward doesn't just break—it shatters. We aren't just swimming. We are being expelled from one world and born into another.

The wild heartbeat of the land thrums through the air. Ryker lifts me from the water, laying us on the mossy bank. My body shakes as I reach for my well of heat, letting white fire flow through my veins.

Ryker’s wind wraps around us, sealing in the warmth.

“We did it,” I whisper, giggling from the pure insanity of it. “We’re on Sgya.”

We wander deeper into the forest without a plan—only a pull. The hum we felt here before still thrums beneath the soil, alive and insistent, a heartbeat we cannot ignore. It calls us onward, guiding our steps until the trees part and the clearing opens before us.

The great tree stands at its center, vast and ancient, its bark veined with violet and teal light. Blossoms pulse along its limbs like stars trapped in bloom, breathing in rhythm with something older than the world itself. The last time I stood here, the shadows clung to its roots, and it was as dark as night. Now, the clearing is bright and the air hums with expectancy—as if it’s been waiting for us.