Problematic Revelations

“There’s a moment when the portal stops being magic—and starts being responsibility. And that moment usually arrives with someone else’s name attached to the mistake.”

The sundae sat forgotten near the edge of the tray, its contents slumped into a slowly collapsing swirl of hot fudge and melted vanilla. The ice cream had surrendered all form, pooling in thick, glossy layers within its plastic confines, morphing into something shapeless—abandoned mid-thought. It was irrelevant now—a ghost of that brief moment of comfort I’d claimed and already relinquished.

Across from me, Josh hadn’t moved in minutes. His hand still rested loosely around the Sprite cup he’d unconsciously commandeered—gripping it more like a stress object than a drink. He hadn’t even taken a sip. The condensation had collected around his fingers in slick beads.

Between us, the Portal Key glinted faintly on the scratched tabletop. Silent. Inert. Yet radiating presence. It looked entirely unthreatening—small, smooth, unassuming. But it weighed like lead in the space between us, heavy with everything he hadn’t said.

I leant forward slightly, eyes narrowing, voice tightening. The hum of fluorescent lighting droned overhead, uncomfortably loud now. I was aware of the fryer hissing behind the counter, the scrape of chairs, the high-pitched laughter of a nearby child—normal sounds, entirely disconnected from the strange pressure ballooning invisibly between my brother and me.

And still, I could hear only his words.

"We have a big problem."

He hadn’t said a single thing since. Just sat there, gaze locked somewhere just left of mine, as though if he avoided my eyes long enough, the rest might go away too.

"Josh," I said at last, the name sharper than I intended, the words clipped. "You can’t drop a statement like that and then just sit there silently like you’ve swallowed a confession and don’t know how to chew it. What kind of problem? What are we actually dealing with here?"

He exhaled heavily, nose flaring as he shifted in his chair. His fingers resumed their tapping against the side of the cup—steady, rhythmic, maddening.

"I’m trying to figure out how to say it," he muttered, more to himself than to me. His eyes still didn’t lift.

"Try starting with the truth," I replied evenly. I was trying to stay calm. Truly. But my patience was beginning to fray at the edges like old rope.

Finally, he looked up. And something about the way he met my eyes—really met them—sent a quiet shiver down my spine.

His eyes were bloodshot. Not just tired, but worn. There was a darkness in them, subtle but unmistakable, as if some part of him had been dimmed and hadn’t yet recovered.

"They’re in Saint Phillis," he said.

The words were quiet. But they detonated in my chest.

I blinked. "Who?"

He hesitated just a fraction too long.

"Mason. Ella. Diesel."

The names landed like stacked bricks—hard, dull, and final. My breath caught, and for a moment I could do nothing but stare at him.

"Mason... your friend?" I said slowly, brain scrambling for context. "Ella’s his daughter, right? And Diesel’s—Christ, Josh. His dog?"

He nodded once. Grim. Minimal.

"What do you mean they’re in Saint Phillis?" I asked, the words stiff on my tongue. "As in they’re there? Right now?"

Josh’s reply was immediate. "Yeah. Right now."

I recoiled slightly in my seat, the back pressing against the sticky vinyl. My mind spun in circles. I was trying to process this—the image of Mason, of little Ella, of a dog, wandering through the barren landscape I’d barely managed to get my own bearings in.

"But… how?" I asked. "How would they even know how to access it? They don’t have Portal Keys."

Josh’s jaw twitched. "No," he said quickly. "They don’t."

"Then how—"

"They went in with me," he said.

There was no room left for doubt in his voice.

"That first time," he added, quieter now.

A pause stretched between us, taut and loaded.

"You took them?" I asked, incredulous.

"It wasn’t like that," he said quickly. He ran both hands down his face in a slow, exhausted gesture. "I didn’t plan to. It wasn’t some—some group expedition. It just… happened."

I stared at him, heart thudding now. "Josh, what does that even mean? How does someone just happen to bring a child and a dog through a dimensional portal?"

He looked at me, eyes full of something I hadn’t seen in years: uncertainty. Not embarrassment. Not guilt. But the genuine, hollow kind of regret that comes from a decision spiralling out of your control.

"I didn’t mean for any of it," he said quietly. "But they followed me. I didn’t stop them. I should have. I should have."

His voice trailed off.

"What actually happened, Josh?" I asked.

Josh reluctantly leaned forward, resting his tensed forearms heavily on the sticky table surface. His voice emerged noticeably quieter when he finally spoke again, almost resigned in its defeated tone.

"I’d just opened it for the first time. Mason and Ella were there—just by chance. Diesel too. The package had come that morning, and Mason was already hanging around like he does, working on his truck in the shed. Ella was with him, pestering Diesel and drinking all my Milo. You know how it is."

I didn't speak, simply nodding once encouragingly, silently urging him to continue his troubling narrative.

"I foolishly mentioned the unusual package to them," he continued hesitantly, absently tapping the laminated table with his index finger. "Showed them the Portal Key without properly thinking. Told them everything you'd mentioned—about Clivilius, about the portal. We had a rather good laugh about the entire fantastical concept. Mason was predictably taking the absolute piss—confidently declared you'd finally completely lost the plot. I almost entirely agreed with him at that point."

He momentarily paused, self-consciously rubbing the tense back of his neck.

"But something about it… it felt different. You know? It didn’t feel like a prank. So I tried it. I pointed the Portal Key at the wall, just like you said. And the bloody thing lit up like it was waiting for me. A full wall of colour. It was… beautiful. Terrifying."

I could clearly see the powerful memory frozen in his widened eyes—that precise moment perfectly preserved in vivid recollection, the sharp, almost reverently awed way he spoke about the extraordinary experience.

"They were completely stunned," he continued, his voice taking on a distant quality. "Young Ella immediately thought it must be genuine magic. Mason cynically assumed I'd cleverly wired up some elaborate light show. Diesel went completely berserk. He frantically barked at the portal as though it was alive."

"And you all stepped through," I stated flatly, already instinctively knowing the inevitable answer.

He nodded with visible reluctance. "Ella asked first—can we go in? And I… I didn’t know how to say no. Mason said it’d be good for a laugh. I told them we’d stay together, just poke around for a few minutes."

A heavy, uncomfortable silence descended between us, punctuated exclusively by the persistent low murmur of other restaurant patrons and the distinctive mechanical whirring of the ice cream machine being automatically refilled. Josh stared vacantly past my shoulder, his prominent jaw visibly clenched with poorly concealed tension.

"It felt profoundly empty," he eventually continued. "But somehow not completely dead or abandoned. Almost as though... it was patiently waiting for something significant. There was no wind, no ambient sound whatsoever. Just endless dust. Exposed bedrock."

I nodded with growing understanding, the evocative imagery perfectly aligning with what I'd personally witnessed during my own initial exploratory visit.

"And the mysterious voice," he added, his voice dropping considerably quieter now. "The moment I stepped through, I distinctly heard it. Directly inside my own head."

My unsettled stomach turned uncomfortably at this unexpected revelation.

"What did it say?"

Josh continued staring fixedly at the Portal Key resting on the table between us. "It formally welcomed me. Specifically addressed me by my name. Stated I was officially recognised. Said... 'Welcome to Clivilius, Joshua Cowdrey'."

His normally confident voice dropped a significant register, the final words recited with eerily precise intonation.

I unconsciously swallowed with difficulty. I'd experienced the same unsettling phenomenon. Almost identical welcoming words, same inexplicable internal presence directly communicating within my consciousness.

"Did Mason and Ella hear it as well?" I inquired anxiously.

Josh shook his head. "No… I don’t think so… I didn’t actually ask them."

I sighed heavily. "Then what happened?"

"We stayed close to the portal. I didn’t want to risk wandering too far. After about ten minutes, I said we should head back."

He exhaled slowly.

"I stepped through first. I came back to the living room. Nothing had changed. I turned around, expecting them to follow."

An extended, ominous pause.

"They didn’t."

My chest tightened painfully. "You mean... they physically couldn't pass back through?"

Josh provided a small, visibly pained shake of his head. "They tried repeatedly. Again and again with mounting desperation. I even walked back through to physically stand beside them, attempted to literally bring them through by maintaining direct physical contact. It was as though the portal wouldn't accept them back through. Mason initially tried to joke about the situation, suggested perhaps it was merely buggy experimental technology or a temporary misfire, but I could clearly see the growing realisation on his frightened face—he understood something was seriously wrong."

"How did the portal prevent them?" I asked, feeling my pulse quicken substantially.

Josh reluctantly looked away. "It didn't actively attack them, or forcibly push them backward. It simply... refused their attempted passage. Almost like an invisible barrier had materialised. Ella tried first. She enthusiastically ran directly towards it, and at the final critical second, it was exactly as though she'd violently collided with an unyielding wall of solidified air. No visible impact. Just... complete physical resistance. Mason desperately tried forcing his way through using brute strength. But identical negative result."

"Did the experience cause them physical harm?" I inquired with mounting concern.

"No," he confirmed quickly. "Not physically damaging. But it severely disturbed them psychologically. Especially young Ella. She repeatedly asked why the portal didn't like her."

I grimaced with genuine sympathy. "That's absolutely horrible."

Josh nodded grimly. "It genuinely was traumatic for her."

"How long did you try for?" I asked quietly.

"Felt like bloody eternity," Josh admitted despondently. "We systematically tried every conceivable angle. Different approach distances. Me repeatedly stepping in and out again to demonstrate continued functionality. At one particularly desperate point, Mason lifted Ella into his arms and determinedly ran directly at the shimmering portal. Nothing happened. It was like... like forcefully pushing against electrically charged magnetic rainbow glass."

I swallowed with considerable difficulty, suddenly feeling unexpectedly cold.

"So what did you do?"

Josh wearily rubbed his bloodshot eyes again. "I temporarily remained with them, obviously. I couldn't just abandon them in that desolate environment. We sat down. Attempted to logically determine potential solutions. But there's no mobile signal available there, no recognisable landmarks, absolutely nothing useful. Just... the empty land of Saint Phillis stretching out around us."

"And you're absolutely certain there's no possible way for them to return?" I pressed anxiously.

"I've tried to physically bring Mason back with me on two separate occasions since the initial arrival," he stated flatly. "Complete failure every time. The portal consistently rejects him. Identical situation with Ella. Even poor Diesel experiences the same rejection."

"It's... it’s the Portal Key," I murmured thoughtfully. "It appears exclusively bound to you."

He nodded with grim acceptance. "That certainly appears to be the case."

We sat together in heavy, profound silence for an extended period. I continued staring at the Portal Key resting innocuously on the table between us. It appeared so deceptively harmless. So absurdly, mundanely ordinary given its extraordinary capabilities.

"They're trapped," I stated eventually.

Josh's voice emerged noticeably low and defeated. "Yeah."

I leaned further back against the unyielding vinyl, running a trembling hand despondently over my haggard face.

"Bloody hell."

The profound silence between us stretched uncomfortably onward for several increasingly tense moments following Josh's final devastating words. I found myself absently watching the accumulated condensation slowly sliding down the side of my commandeered drink, methodically gathering in slow, lazy droplets near the base of the cup.

Everything in the ordinary world surrounding us carried on with blissful ignorance—muffled, inconsequential conversations from nearby tables, the soft, repetitive hissing and clattering emanating from behind the bustling service counter—but my racing thoughts remained firmly locked in that haunting mental image of young Ella being rejected by the portal. Of loyal Diesel whining plaintively in confusion. Of practical Mason standing there, desperately attempting to make light of a profoundly disturbing situation that was silently, inexorably unravelling beyond his comprehension.

I reluctantly exhaled a deep breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding and distractedly rubbed at my tired eyes. "That's... rather a lot to process."

Josh nodded solemnly, his demeanour notably subdued. He appeared thoroughly hollowed out by the difficult telling of these extraordinary events, as though merely articulating the experience into coherent words had completely exhausted something within him.

I shifted uncomfortably in my creaking seat, then purposefully leaned further forward, my weary elbows resting heavily on the sticky table surface. "That fourth location I glimpsed... it suddenly makes perfect sense now."

Josh blinked with genuine confusion. "Fourth location?"

I nodded with growing certainty. "When I opened the portal aboard the Melbourne Airport flight and then came back through... there were three distinct locations I could choose from. The first was obviously my original departure site—my office in Hobart. The second was the narrow airport corridor where I'd most activated the portal. And then of course the flight itself. But there was unmistakably a fourth option displayed. At the time, I couldn't properly place its significance."

Josh looked at me, his eyes narrowing slightly as comprehension gradually dawned.

"It must have been your location," I continued excitedly. "Broken Hill. The precise spot where you initially opened your personal Portal Key."

Josh emitted a short, surprised breath through his flared nostrils, the sound registering somewhere between mild surprise and reluctant agreement. "Yeah. That would certainly make sense."

"I didn’t realise they were… shared. The established portal locations, I mean."

"They are," Josh confirmed, his voice becoming noticeably firmer now that we'd progressed from painful confession to something more intellectually manageable. "I've actually visited yours."

I frowned with growing suspicion. "Hang on—you've used my established locations?"

Josh offered a noncommittal shrug. "Yeah. This morning. Before I departed from Broken Hill."

"Seriously?"

"Just wanted to test how this stuff worked. Picked one of the unfamiliar spots from the list—it dropped me straight into your Hobart office."

I stared at him incredulously. "You broke into my office?"

He raised a single eyebrow with characteristic superiority. "I didn’t exactly need a door."

Suppressing an involuntary chuckle I desperately didn't want to reveal, I suspiciously squinted at him. "Did you touch anything?"

He hesitated noticeably.

"Josh."

"…Might’ve made myself a cup of coffee."

I continued staring at him with mounting disbelief.

"The mug was just sitting there," he explained quickly. "You’re always going on about that instant coffee crap you drink."

I shook my head with resignation. "So what—you travel through a freakin’ portal and immediately decide to help yourself to instant coffee?"

He grinned unrepentantly. "Needed something to anchor me. Ground the moment."

"You grounded yourself with stolen instant coffee?"

Josh shrugged with complete, unashamed indifference. "The taste was actually quite good." He paused momentarily. "Oh, and I may have eaten all the remaining Kingston biscuits."

I couldn't help rolling my eyes at this characteristic admission. The distinctive chocolate-filled Kingston biscuits had consistently remained our childhood favourite. Fond, nostalgic memories of our paternal grandparents spontaneously surfaced, vivid images of us staying up late playing traditional card games while enthusiastically munching on assorted biscuits. Nan would invariably scold us both because the only variety we wanted from the expensive assortment tin were the distinctive Kingston sandwiches.

Our genuine laughter gradually faded into a brief, unexpectedly companionable quiet. It seemed profoundly strange—amidst the mounting chaos and steadily creeping existential dread permeating everything we'd just seriously discussed, there remained something reassuringly, fundamentally human in the inescapable fact that we were, at our core, still brothers. Still complete idiots, at our most basic level. And somehow, the profound absurdity of that realisation made the extraordinary truth we were collectively facing feel even more disconcertingly surreal by direct comparison.

"So," I began slowly, deliberately thinking aloud, "every time we open a portal from Earth, it leaves a kind of imprint—a tether that links that exact spot to the Portal Screen in Clivilius."

Josh nodded with understanding. "Yeah. And once it’s been opened from Earth, that location becomes part of the pool. You can go back to it—from Clivilius."

"You don’t even need the Portal Key on that side," I added thoughtfully. "The screen just… responds."

Josh eagerly leaned forward. "Yeah. It’s wild. You just walk up, and suddenly it’s active. No button, no command—just intention."

"The images start flickering across the surface," I recalled vividly. "Clear as day. Like photos."

"And you don’t choose in the normal sense," Josh added contemplatively. "You just think. Like the portal already knows where you mean to go."

"Exactly. It’s like it listens for the thought you haven’t even fully had yet."

We gradually lapsed into thoughtful silence once more, the profound implications hovering ominously between us.

The entire system felt... uncomfortably intimate. As though the portal was genuinely aware of our conscious presence. Not merely responding mechanically to our physical actions, but fundamentally understanding our intentions—effectively translating unspoken mental desire into precise physical transportation.

A sophisticated system deliberately built by someone—or potentially something—that operated according to complex rules we barely began to properly grasp.

Josh reluctantly glanced back down at the inert Portal Key. "So what happens if we open the portal somewhere really stupid? Like… the middle of a pub?"

I couldn't resist smirking at the absurd mental image. "Then we’d better hope no one notices, or we’ll have a queue of drunkards wandering into Saint Phillis thinking it’s a rave."

"Not a bad way to populate a settlement," he suggested, grinning mischievously.

"Right. Welcome to Clivilius, here’s your schooner."

We both chuckled simultaneously at the ridiculous concept, but the attempted humour quickly dissipated as the profound gravity of our situation inevitably returned to the forefront.

"Four locations established so far?" I asked, steering us gently back toward something resembling focus.

Josh nodded slowly. "Yeah. My place. Your office. What’s the other two again?"

"Melbourne Airport," I said, "and... the plane."

Josh blinked. "The plane? As in, while it was flying?"

I nodded.

He stared at me for a beat. "Jesus, Nathan. Did you also stick your head in the engine for a better view?"

"It was the lavatory, actually," I said flatly. "Very secure. Very private."

Josh snorted. "Nothing says mystical dimensional gateway like an economy-class toilet."

We both chuckled—quiet, frayed laughter—but behind his grin, I saw the gears starting to turn.

Then came the pause. A longer, more contemplative one.

"Hang on," he said slowly, the humour draining just enough to let something sharper through. "That plane’s still flying. Which means it’s still moving. That portal link... it’s going wherever that aircraft goes."

I nodded. "Exactly."

Josh leaned back, rubbing his jaw. "Bloody hell. If we can find out where that plane is heading next, and the portal still works... that’s not just a toilet. That’s a roaming access point."

"Like a floating terminal," I agreed.

His eyes lit with something between mischief and awe. "You’ve potentially made a Qantas crapper the most valuable tool for Clivilius."

I grinned. "You’re welcome."

Josh’s grin returned—wry, calculating. "Alright. That’s four locations. Four ways in and out, assuming the portal still lets us through."

"Better than none," I said.

He nodded. "Yeah. And if that plane keeps flying... who knows how many more we could add."

For a beat, that possibility hovered between us—an unexpected hint of hope threading through the tension. But then Josh’s expression tightened. The lightness didn’t last.

He fixed me with a look that cut clean through any lingering optimism. "Let’s not conveniently forget it only lets us back to Earth. From Clivilius."

The moment constricted like a held breath. "Right," I said quietly. "Crucially important distinction."

Our eyes dropped in unison to the Portal Key resting silently between us.

I swallowed, then asked—softly, uncertainly—"Do you think it’s possible that one day it will let them back through?"

Josh didn't immediately respond. He continued staring contemplatively down at the scratched tabletop, his furrowed brow deeply creased with obvious concern.

"I’ve wondered," he eventually admitted. "Maybe if they had their own Portal Keys. Maybe if they became Guardians somehow."

"Is that even possible?"

He offered a noncommittal shrug. "Haven’t found anything that suggests it is. But we also don’t know how this works, not really."

I exhaled heavily with frustration. "It still doesn’t sit right with me."

"What doesn’t?"

"That someone—or potentially something—deliberately constructed this elaborate system. Unilaterally decided these seemingly arbitrary rules. Specifically chose who can legitimately leave and who categorically cannot."

Josh nodded with gradual understanding. "Yeah. That disembodied voice you previously mentioned... it wasn't merely conveying words. It was like... it somehow intimately knew me on some core level."

The uncomfortable silence progressively returned between us, noticeably heavier and more oppressive this time.

Eventually, after extended contemplation, I broke the increasingly uncomfortable silence. "We have to go back."

"To Saint Phillis?" Josh asked, his voice betraying growing concern.

"Yeah," I confirmed decisively. "Now."

Josh instinctively sat considerably straighter in his plastic chair. "To do what?"

"Find them. Mason, Ella, Diesel. They’ve been out there in what is essentially a deserted wasteland this whole time, and we’re sitting here in a Macca’s discussing portal theory."

Josh was already shifting in his seat before I’d finished speaking.

"We should go back to Broken Hill," he suggested pragmatically, deliberately leaning forward with intensity.

I directed an incredulous look directly at him. "Bro, that’s five hours away."

"Four and a half if I drive," he replied with characteristic deadpan certainty.

"Josh—"

Immediately recognising my unspoken intention, Josh anxiously glanced around the bustling restaurant. "You seriously want to open a portal here?"

"Yes."

"In a McDonald’s?"

"Yes."

He leaned backward with visible reluctance and emitted a low, protracted groan of disapproval. "We’re not both going into the same Macca’s toilet, Nathan."

"Why?" I challenged, my eyes deliberately widening with exaggerated mock innocence. "You scared someone’s going to tweet about it?"

"It’s a bit bloody weird, mate."

"No weirder than inter-dimensional travel in a cubicle."

He impulsively opened his mouth to protest, abruptly closed it again with visible frustration, then accusatorially pointed an index finger directly at me. "That’s not the point."

I shrugged. "We’re not coming back out anyway."

Josh blinked with obvious confusion. "Hang on—what?"

"We’re not. We go in, find them, and stay there until we can figure out what’s next."

"You’re saying we just… vanish?"

"Yes."

He continued staring at me with mounting disbelief. "What about your job?"

"I don’t care."

"Your flat?"

"Let the bloody landlord have it. It's not as though I've left anything particularly valuable or irreplaceable behind."

Josh blinked repeatedly, visibly stunned by my cavalier attitude. "Bloody hell. You're genuinely serious about this."

"Deadly."

He unconsciously rubbed the tense back of his neck, muttering something that sounded distinctly like, "This is completely mental," before huffing an exasperated breath and definitively shaking his head with resignation.

"Fine, then. But if some unfortunate child accidentally walks in and unexpectedly witnesses two grown blokes mysteriously disappearing into a shimmering rainbow wall in the middle of a toilet stall, that considerable psychological trauma is entirely your responsibility."

"Duly noted," I acknowledged, standing up.

Josh remained seated, showing no immediate inclination to move.

"What's wrong now?" I asked impatiently.

He vaguely gestured toward the abandoned food tray. "You’re just going to leave your sundae?"

I briefly glanced at the increasingly unfortunate puddle of completely melted dessert. "I think it’s past its prime."

He eventually stood with noticeable reluctance, clearly deliberately stalling, his racing mind evidently attempting to locate a sufficiently plausible excuse solid enough to potentially keep us firmly grounded for a little longer.

"We can’t both go in at the same time," he protested weakly as we gathered our rubbish and headed toward the nearby rubbish bins. "What if someone’s already in there?"

"Then we wait," I replied with exaggerated reasonableness. "Like normal humans."

"Which we’re very clearly not, by the way," Josh muttered under his breath.

"Speak for yourself."

We made our way toward the rear section of the restaurant, carefully weaving between occupied tables. Josh's reluctant footsteps noticeably slowed the closer we approached the narrow hallway leading to the public toilets.

"This is so wrong," he continued muttering quietly under his laboured breath.

"You’re overthinking it."

He directed a particularly withering look straight at me. "Of course I’m overthinking it. We’re about to bend the laws of space and time in a fast food bathroom."

I stopped outside the door and turned to face him. "If we drive back to Broken Hill, we lose half a day."

Josh steadily held my determined gaze for a prolonged moment, then eventually released a long, resigned breath and grudgingly nodded with acceptance.

"All right, then," he conceded reluctantly. "But you're going first."

"Coward."

"Pragmatist."

I firmly pushed open the bathroom door and confidently stepped inside, grateful to discover it completely empty. The harsh, unforgiving fluorescent light positioned overhead flickered once as the door slowly swung firmly shut behind my entrance.

The modest facility was considerably cleaner than I'd anticipated. I walked into the cubicle positioned furthest from the entrance and closed the stall door behind me. The smooth rear surface of the door appeared relatively clean and unblemished. Absolutely perfect for our extraordinary purposes.

I took a measured moment to breathe deeply, systematically running through the steps in my racing mind like a comprehensive mental checklist. Retrieve Portal Key. Activate. Step through. Don’t look back.

And yet, as I instinctively reached into my trouser pocket, I unexpectedly hesitated with growing uncertainty.

The substantial weight of the Portal Key felt strangely familiar within my trembling grasp. Almost comfortingly reassuring, in a peculiar way. Cold and reassuringly solid against my perspiring palm. A dependable anchor in a destabilised world that had increasingly begun to feel progressively surreal with each passing hour.

But beneath that superficial certainty lurked something considerably more troubling—another significant weight entirely.

The mysterious backpack.

My thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the woman on the plane. Her sudden disappearance. The backpack I’d stashed in Saint Phillis. The notebook left behind.

I still hadn't told Josh about any of those significant complications.

I should have. I knew that. But something buried deep within me continued actively resisting complete disclosure—perhaps misplaced pride, possibly mounting guilt, maybe a persistent, gnawing uncertainty that I wasn't psychologically prepared to acknowledge or name.

One problem at a time, I told myself. Mason and Ella first. The rest can wait.

I drew the Portal Key from my pocket and held it directly out before me. Its unremarkable design remained consistently unassuming, its dull metallic surface appearing thoroughly ordinary beneath the harsh fluorescent glare. I focused my complete attention on the blank cubicle wall directly ahead.

The Portal Key didn’t glow. It didn’t hum.

It simply worked.

From the end of the Portal Key, a ball of pale, electrified light shot forward, striking the wooden wall like lightning in reverse.

The portal progressively bloomed in complete silence—massive, unmistakably alive, hauntingly beautiful in its otherworldly appearance. A fluid, rippling sheet of constantly shifting colour patterns and crackling energy, like refined oil and elemental fire had been expertly woven together into shimmering, translucent silk.

It completely filled the door from edge to edge with its pulsating, hypnotic presence.

I didn’t pause.

I stepped forward into the shimmering veil, and the familiar world surrounding me completely vanished.