Mistaken Identity

"Every answer my brother gave me spawned three new questions—and the worst part was realising he didn't have answers either."

As I neared camp, the sight of Luke emerging from the tent with a sense of urgency painted a stark contrast against the backdrop of our makeshift refuge. He moved like a man with a mission, his stride purposeful, his jaw set in that particular way it got when he'd made a decision and intended to see it through regardless of obstacles. I'd seen that look before — usually right before he did something reckless.

"Luke, wait!" I called out. "Where are you going?"

After everything that had just happened — the body, the revelation about Joel, the race to hide a dead man from his own father — the idea of Luke simply walking off felt almost absurd. We had things to discuss. Plans to make. Explanations that were long overdue.

"I have to find Cody," he replied without breaking his stride, his determination evident as he continued towards the Portal.

The name meant nothing to me. Another stranger in a world that seemed increasingly populated with people I'd never heard of, all apparently connected to secrets my brother had been keeping.

Curiosity, mixed with a hint of alarm, propelled me into a gentle jog to keep pace with my brother.

"Who's Cody?" I asked. How many people did Luke know that I didn't? How many connections had he forged in this other life he'd apparently been living — this life of Portals and alien dimensions and murdered sons?

Luke stopped abruptly, turning to face me. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, his eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for answers in the desert that surrounded us. The ochre dust stretched endlessly in all directions, offering no counsel, no guidance. Whatever answers Luke was seeking, they wouldn't come from the landscape.

Then, leaning in close, he shared in a hushed tone, "He's a Guardian."

The word 'Guardian' hung in the air between us, heavy with implications I could scarcely grasp. It felt capitalised somehow — not just a descriptor but a title, a designation, something that meant far more than the simple word suggested. Guardian of what? Against what?

"What the hell is a Guardian?" I gasped, my mind racing to make sense of this new revelation. The word conjured images of ancient orders, of secret societies, of fantasy novels I'd read as a teenager. None of those images seemed to fit the reality of my brother standing before me in this alien wasteland.

"Like me," Luke stated bluntly, the simplicity of his answer doing nothing to quell the storm of questions brewing within me.

Like him. Luke was a Guardian. Which meant Guardians were... what? People who could open Portals? People who couldn't return through them? People who kept massive, life-altering secrets from their brothers for years?

"What… how…?" I stammered, struggling to piece together the fragmented puzzle. The words tangled on my tongue, too many questions competing for priority, none of them finding coherent form. My brother. A Guardian. Part of some... organisation? Species? Brotherhood? The possibilities spiralled outward in directions I couldn't begin to map.

Luke shook his head, a gesture of frustration or perhaps confusion.

"I don't completely understand it myself yet," he admitted.

The admission should have been alarming — my brother was part of something he didn't fully understand. But somehow, it was also reassuring. At least he wasn't pretending to have all the answers. At least the confusion was shared.

For a fleeting moment, a spark of optimism ignited within me.

"But there are more of… you?" I asked, clinging to the hope that perhaps we were not as alone in this fight as we had feared. If Luke was a Guardian, and Cody was a Guardian, then there might be others. A network. Resources. People who actually understood how this world worked and could help us navigate its dangers.

Anything, I thought, to bolster our chances of survival.

The past few days had stripped away any illusions I'd had about our ability to manage this situation on our own. We'd nearly killed Jamie. We'd discovered a murdered body. We were stranded in an alien dimension with no real understanding of its rules or its threats. Any ally, any source of knowledge or support—

"Yes. But don't tell the others yet. Not until we know it's safe," Luke confirmed.

"Safe?"

The word echoed hollowly in my mind, dousing the flicker of hope with cold apprehension. My heart sank, the brief surge of optimism quashed by the weight of Luke's caution. Safe. As if safety were something we might achieve, or something we might lose. As if there were threats beyond the ones we'd already encountered — beyond the night terrors and the infections and the murdered sons floating in rivers.

Luke's next words were heavy with implication.

"I still don't know who killed..."

He hesitated, the name catching in his throat.

"Who, ah, slit Joel's throat. Cody thinks whoever did it mistook Joel for me."

The world seemed to tilt again, the way it had when I'd first seen the body in the river. Mistook Joel for Luke. Someone had meant to kill my brother. Someone had held a blade to a young man's throat and opened it, believing they were ending Luke's life. The murder wasn't random. It was targeted. And the target was still alive, still walking around, still planning to step through a Portal into God-knows-what danger.

"Shit, Luke," I gasped, the danger we faced suddenly taking on a more personal and immediate threat. This wasn't just about survival in a hostile environment anymore. This was about someone actively trying to kill my brother. Someone who had already demonstrated their willingness to slit throats. Someone who was still out there, presumably still hunting.

"I need answers," Luke declared, his voice laced with a determination that was both admirable and terrifying.

With that, he resumed his brisk pace, leaving me to process the whirlwind of information he had just imparted. Answers. He needed answers. We all needed answers. But Luke was the one walking toward them, walking toward a world where someone wanted him dead.

"So, does that mean Joel is really dead?" I found myself asking, the weight of the situation making my steps heavier as I struggled to keep pace with Luke.

Luke didn't answer. He didn't need to. The silence between us spoke volumes.

As we neared the Portal, it erupted into life, its colours swirling in a dazzling display of energy that captivated and unnerved me in equal measure. I halted, momentarily caught in the spectacle, my mind racing with questions about its operation. The blues and purples and silver threads wove together in patterns that seemed almost organic, almost alive. There was no switch that Luke had flipped, no button he had pressed. The Portal simply... responded to him. Recognised him, perhaps. Welcomed him.

The absence of any visible mechanism, save for Luke's proximity, lent an air of mystique to the device.

It's a fascinating phenomenon, if not somewhat disturbing, I mused, the memory of the eerie Clivilius voice echoing in my mind, its cryptic messages a source of ongoing intrigue and unease. I had heard that voice on my first passage through — the strange, inhuman greeting that had welcomed me to this world. Did Luke hear it too? Did all Guardians? Was the voice part of the Portal, or part of something larger?

"Luke," I called out, an urgency in my voice that halted him in his tracks, just seconds from stepping through the Portal. He turned, an expectant look on his face. The swirling colours cast strange shadows across his features, making him look both familiar and alien at once.

"Don't get yourself killed, okay? We still need you."

The words tumbled out, a mix of concern, plea, and a stark reminder of the danger he was in. It was perhaps the most honest thing I'd said to him in years — an acknowledgment that beneath all the anger and the betrayal and the accumulated secrets, I still needed my brother. That losing him would be unbearable, even now, even after everything.

Luke offered a small, reassuring smile, a rare glimpse of warmth amidst recent events. For a moment, he was just my younger brother again — the boy I'd grown up with, the boy I'd protected and fought with and loved in that complicated way siblings love each other.

"I'll do my best," he replied, his voice carrying a weight of promise and determination.

Then, with a step that seemed both bold and inevitable, he vanished into the mesmerising colours of the Portal, leaving me alone with my thoughts and fears.

The Portal flickered once, twice, and then fell dormant — just an empty frame against the red horizon, giving no indication that moments ago it had swallowed my brother whole. I stood there, staring at the space where Luke had been, half-expecting him to step back through with a laugh and an explanation that this had all been some elaborate joke.

He didn't.

Guardians…

The word lingered in my mind, a concept both comforting and daunting. There were others like Luke. People with whatever abilities or knowledge allowed them to navigate between worlds. People who understood this place in ways I couldn't begin to grasp. The existence of Guardians suggested structure, purpose, maybe even protection. But it also suggested enemies — because if someone was trying to kill Guardians, then being connected to one made you a target by association.

I took a moment to gather my scattered thoughts, my mind still reeling from the cascade of revelations. Luke was a Guardian. Joel was Jamie's son. Someone had murdered Joel thinking he was Luke. There were forces at play here that I couldn't see, couldn't understand, couldn't predict. Every time I thought I had some grasp on our situation, the ground shifted beneath my feet.

The throbbing in my arm provided a constant reminder of the immediate dangers we faced. The burn, the wound — whatever had happened to it in the river, in the chaos of discovering Joel's body — it was demanding attention now with an insistence I couldn't ignore. I glanced down, expecting to see the familiar redness of healing skin, the gradual improvement that Glenda had been monitoring.

Instead, I noticed with a grimace that the skin around the wounds was turning grey once again.

Grey. Not red. Not pink. Not the healthy colour of tissue knitting itself back together. Grey, like something dead, like something that had given up on healing and decided to rot instead.

Is this a normal reaction from a wound like this?

Doubt and concern swirled within me, a tumultuous mix that offered no clear answers. I wasn't a doctor. I didn't know what wounds were supposed to look like, what colours indicated healing versus infection versus something worse. All I knew was that grey didn't seem right. Grey seemed like the colour of warnings, of things going wrong.

I really have no idea.

The admission, even to myself, felt like defeat. I was supposed to be the responsible one. The older brother. The who solved problems and made decisions. But here, in this alien world with its impossible rules and hidden threats, I was just another person stumbling through the dark, hoping not to fall into whatever pit waited ahead.

The last thing the camp needed was more panic, more questions without answers. We had already dealt with Jamie's infection, the discovery of Joel's body, the revelation of secrets that threatened to tear our fragile community apart. Adding my potentially rotting arm to the list of concerns felt almost cruel — another burden on already overburdened shoulders.

Yet, as I stood there, contemplating the uncertain path ahead, I knew that silence was not an option. Whatever was happening to my arm, it wouldn't get better by being ignored. If the past few days had taught me anything, it was that problems in Clivilius didn't resolve themselves. They festered. They grew. They nearly killed you while you were distracted by other disasters.

It was time to seek out Glenda.