A door.
Not a passage. Not a fissure. Not an accidental path opened by unstable magic. A door. The difference seemed small to any ordinary person, but everyone there had already heard enough information about the Outer Sepulcher to understand that this was much worse.
Seris was the first to speak.
"What kind of door?"
Hercules looked at the ring between his fingers, as if the answer were trapped in some layer he could feel, but could not describe with pretty words. He did not look comfortable with it. Not because he was afraid, but because the trail did not behave like a common track. It was like trying to follow footprints in dark water.
"I do not know the name," he said. "But it is not a door Frey opened because he wanted to."
Freya took a step forward. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"How?"
Hercules raised his eyes to her. "Because the feeling in the ring is not choice. It is resistance."
Freya fell silent.
