Alexander stepped onto the narrow path leading deeper into Ashwood Park, the blue light from his staff illuminating the damp earth ahead of them.
He didn't look back.
"This way," he said.
The others followed quickly.
The wind through the trees carried distant sounds from the town—metal scraping, glass breaking somewhere far away, the hollow echo of something moving through empty streets. It was enough to remind them what waited beyond the park.
They walked for several minutes before the ground began to slope downward.
Jane frowned.
"Was this always here?"
A narrow opening had appeared beneath the roots of a massive sycamore tree. Thick roots twisted together like the ribs of a cage, forming a natural arch that led into darkness.
Tyler peered inside.
"That wasn't here before."
Alexander stepped beneath the roots without hesitation.
"It was," he said calmly. "You just couldn't see it."
The blue aura from his staff spread outward as he entered, revealing a narrow earthen tunnel. The walls weren't carved by tools. They looked worn smooth by something older—time, or perhaps something that had passed through it many times before.
Elias followed next, the pale grimoire tucked firmly under one arm. The silver markings beneath his skin flickered faintly as he stepped into the passage.
The tunnel curved downward.
Mark muttered quietly, "Feels like we're walking into the ground's throat."
"No," Alexander replied calmly from the front.
"We're walking between layers."
Jane glanced at the ceiling nervously as dirt sifted slightly from the roots above them.
"How long is this tunnel?"
Alexander didn't slow.
"We're almost there."
The air grew colder as they descended.
Then the fog appeared.
At first it was only a thin mist clinging to the floor. But with every step it thickened, swirling around their ankles and rising slowly toward their knees.
Tyler waved a hand through it.
"Okay… that's new."
The fog continued to rise.
By the time it reached their waists, the tunnel walls began to fade.
Jane blinked.
"Wait… where did the—"
The earthen walls dissolved into pale gray mist.
The ground beneath their feet softened.
Grass replaced soil.
The fog parted slowly around them.
They had stepped out of the tunnel.
But the park was gone.
A vast quiet meadow stretched around them beneath a pale silver sky. The grass moved gently as if stirred by a wind that no one could feel.
Mark turned in a slow circle.
"…Where are we?"
Alexander stopped walking.
"The Veil."
Elias recognized it immediately.
His grip tightened slightly on the pale grimoire.
The cabin stood ahead of them.
Not broken. Not collapsing like before.
Whole.
Golden light glowed softly through the windows as if the structure had never been threatened.
Jane exhaled slowly.
"That's… the same cabin."
Alexander shook his head faintly.
"No."
They all looked at him.
Elias' brow furrowed.
Alexander gestured toward the structure ahead of them, the golden light in its windows steady and calm against the silver sky.
"What Elias created before was a refuge," Alexander said. "A construct shaped from memory and will. Strong enough to hold for a time."
Jane glanced at Elias, then back at the cabin.
"But this—"
Alexander's voice lowered slightly.
"This is the original."
Silence settled over the meadow.
Tyler frowned. "Wait… you're telling me he copied a place that already existed?"
Elias' eyes never left the cabin.
The golden glow in its windows flickered softly, steady and calm against the pale sky of the Veil.
His breath slowed.
"…It's just as I remember," he said quietly.
The words slipped out in a breath of quiet awe.
Alexander didn't comment.
Instead, he gestured toward the cabin.
"Come," he said.
They crossed the meadow together, the grass whispering softly beneath their feet. The closer they drew, the more solid the place felt—not like Elias' earlier construct, but something older, steadier. The porch lantern glowed warmly, casting a golden circle across the wooden steps.
Alexander reached the door first.
He paused only briefly before pushing it open.
The warm light inside spilled outward.
But the interior was not as Elias remembered.
Clothes hung from nails hammered into the beams. Blankets draped across chairs. Tables had been pushed aside and replaced with maps, tools, and strange objects laid out in careful rows.
Weapons.
Improvised ones.
Baseball bats wrapped in wire.
Fire axes.
Metal pipes.
But each one had been carved with glowing runes—jagged sigils etched along the metal and wood that pulsed faintly with pale blue light.
Tyler blinked. "What the—"
Alexander took a cautious step inside.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold—
A wooden rifle snapped up beside his head.
The barrel pressed hard against his temple.
The weapon wasn't normal wood. Sigils burned along its frame like molten lines beneath the surface.
A man's voice came from the shadows behind him.
Low.
Tight.
"You friend or foe."
Jane froze.
Mark instinctively raised his hands.
Tyler slowly stepped back.
Elias went completely still.
Alexander didn't move.
Didn't even glance at the weapon pressed to his head.
"Depends," he said calmly.
A pause.
"On who's asking."
The silence stretched.
Then Alexander added, his tone faintly amused—
"You're in my house."
The man behind him went rigid.
For a heartbeat the rifle didn't move.
Then slowly…
The weapon lowered.
A hand reached up and pulled away the dark mask covering the man's face.
"…Alexander."
The name came out in a stunned breath.
The man lowered the wooden rifle completely, letting it hang loosely at his side as if the strength had suddenly drained from his arms.
He stared at Alexander for a moment longer—like he was making sure the figure in front of him was real.
Then he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him.
The hug was sudden.
Tight.
Not the greeting of someone meeting an acquaintance.
The relief of someone who had been holding a line alone for far too long.
Alexander stiffened for half a heartbeat in surprise.
Then his hand came up and clasped the man's shoulder.
Behind them, the others stood frozen near the doorway.
Jane whispered, confused, "Do… they know each other?"
Tyler leaned slightly toward Mark. "Apparently."
Elias said nothing, his silver-faded eyes studying the scene carefully.
Alexander pulled back slightly.
That was when he noticed it.
It was Devon, and he looked older.
Not just older.
Tired.
The lines around his eyes were deeper. His jaw carried a rough stubble that hadn't been there before. There were faint scars along his cheek and temple, thin white marks that hadn't existed the last time Alexander had seen him.
Time had settled on him in a way that didn't quite match the weeks that had passed outside.
Alexander studied him for a moment.
"…Devon."
Devon gave a tired half-smile, rubbing the back of his neck like someone caught between relief and disbelief.
"Its good to see you Alexander," he said quietly.
Behind them, Jane stepped further into the room, still unsure.
"Okay… can someone explain what's happening?"
Tyler gestured vaguely at the two men.
"You two clearly skipped the introductions part."
Devon finally noticed the group standing behind Alexander.
His gaze moved from Jane to Tyler… then Mark… then Elias.
His brow lifted slightly.
"You brought people," he said.
Alexander nodded once.
"They're with me."
Devon looked back at Alexander again, something like relief flickering across his face.
"Good," he murmured.
"Because we're going to need them."
Alexander's eyes narrowed slightly.
The cabin around them was full of evidence—clothes hanging from the beams, maps pinned to the walls, makeshift weapons etched with glowing runes stacked along tables and shelves.
People had been living here.
Preparing.
Fighting.
Alexander gestured lightly toward the room.
"You've been busy."
Devon let out a short breath.
"Busy's one word for it."
Alexander's gaze returned to Devon's face.
The older lines.
The wear in his eyes.
"You've changed," Alexander said quietly.
Devon gave a humorless chuckle.
"Yeah," he said.
He ran a tired hand through his hair and leaned back against the edge of the table, the faint glow of the rune-carved weapons casting shifting light across his face.
"That's what happens after Four years."
Alexander froze.
The room seemed to still around him.
"…What?"
Devon blinked.
"Four years," he repeated, slower this time, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Give or take a few months. Hard to keep exact track once the clocks stopped meaning anything."
Alexander stared at him.
"That's not possible."
Devon frowned slightly.
"Why not?"
Alexander stepped forward.
"Because I saw you four hours ago."
The words landed hard in the room.
Jane looked between them.
"Wait—what?"
Tyler blinked. "Okay, hold up."
Before Alexander could answer—
Footsteps sounded from the back hallway.
Everyone turned.
A woman stepped into the room.
Her hair was pulled back loosely, streaked with a few more strands of silver than Alexander remembered. The same calm, steady presence moved with her—but time had touched her too.
Margaret.
She stopped the moment she saw Alexander standing there.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Then she looked at Devon.
"Well," she said quietly.
"I guess your theory was true then."
The room fell silent again.
Devon folded his arms, exhaling slowly like someone whose last gamble had just paid off.
"Yeah," he muttered.
"Looks like it."
Alexander's gaze shifted between them.
"You expected this?"
Devon shook his head slowly.
"No," he said. "Not exactly."
He rubbed the back of his neck again, glancing toward Margaret before looking back at Alexander.
"At first we thought something happened to you," he admitted. "Something bad."
Jane shifted uneasily near the doorway.
Devon continued.
"The first week… we figured maybe you got delayed. The park's weird like that sometimes."
He gestured vaguely toward the window and the pale Veil beyond it.
"But then weeks passed."
His voice lowered slightly.
"Then months."
The room grew quieter.
Margaret stepped a little closer, listening but letting Devon speak.
"After the sixth month," Devon said, "none of you had come back."
His eyes flicked briefly to Elias, then back to Alexander.
"That's when I started wondering if it wasn't a delay."
Alexander's expression sharpened slightly.
Devon continued.
"I started thinking maybe something happened outside. Maybe you got pulled somewhere else. Maybe the seam closed behind you. Maybe time was moving differently."
He shrugged faintly.
"I didn't know which."
Jane folded her arms slowly.
"So you just… waited?"
Devon shook his head.
"No."
He gestured around the room.
The clothes hanging from beams.
The tables covered in maps.
The crude but carefully carved weapons etched with glowing runes.
"We worked."
Mark glanced at the racks along the wall again.
Devon continued.
"Every day."
Margaret nodded quietly beside him.
"We assumed one of two things would happen," Devon said.
"Either someone would eventually find their way here…"
He looked at Alexander.
"…or whatever was happening outside would finally break through."
Tyler shifted uneasily.
"So you've basically been building a war room."
Devon gave a small, tired smile.
"Pretty much."
He walked over and picked up the wooden rifle he had dropped earlier.
Up close, the sigils carved into the frame glowed faintly, reacting to the cabin's steady golden light.
"We made anything we could," he said. "Weapons. Traps. Runes. Wards."
He set the rifle back on the table.
"Figured if anyone ever showed up…"
His gaze flicked again toward the group Alexander had brought.
"…we'd be ready to fight."
Margaret added quietly,
"Or ready to help them survive."
Devon rested his hands on the edge of the table, looking over the scattered tools and half-finished weapons.
"We didn't stop there either," he added.
He glanced toward Margaret.
"I even managed to teach Margaret some rune smithing."
Alexander blinked.
"You what?"
Margaret gave a modest shrug, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.
"It wasn't exactly quick," she said.
Devon chuckled quietly.
"No. It wasn't."
He picked up one of the metal knives from the table. Along the blade, thin blue runes had been carefully etched, their glow faint but steady.
"She's been helping me the past year," he said. "Cut the work in half."
Alexander looked impressed.
"You're telling me you've been making magic weapons?"
Margaret lifted her hands slightly.
"Let's not get carried away," she said gently. "It took me almost a year just to learn how not to ruin the metal."
Tyler let out a low whistle.
"A year?"
Margaret nodded.
"And I'm still nowhere near as good as Devon."
Devon immediately shook his head.
"That's not true."
Margaret glanced at him.
"Devon—"
"No," he said firmly, though his tone remained warm.
He gestured toward several weapons laid out along the wall.
"Half the stuff hanging there? That's her work."
Margaret looked embarrassed.
"That's generous."
Devon gave a tired but genuine smile.
"Mrs. H," he said, using the nickname naturally.
"I wouldn't have gotten this far without you."
Margaret's expression softened slightly at that.
"Well," she replied quietly, "someone had to make sure you didn't burn the cabin down experimenting."
Tyler grinned.
"Okay, I like her already."
Mark nodded toward the weapons again.
"So all this… you two built?"
Devon shrugged lightly.
"Piece by piece."
Alexander had been silent through the exchange, studying the runes carved into the weapons along the walls.
Finally, he spoke.
"…They're good."
Devon looked at him.
"Coming from you, I'll take that as high praise."
Alexander stepped closer to one of the tables and picked up a small iron hatchet.
The rune work along its blade glowed faintly in response to his presence.
"Stable geometry," Alexander said quietly. "Efficient flow lines."
He set it back down.
"You've improved."
Devon gave a small, tired grin.
"Four years gives you time to practice."