Elmira

This time, she was not surprised when her feet sank deep into a thick layer of hot sand that was practically scalding after the ever-freeze of Ashenvale. Soon, it was everywhere, slipping into her boots, clinging to her skin, and working its way into her clothes like a living thing. She coughed as the fine grit coated her throat, already turning her black hair a dull, dusty gold.

Pulling the path through the Wastelands seemed like a clever idea. But that notion was fading fast. The landscape stretched in all directions, a vast and barren wound upon the world that once hosted the most beautiful forests and meadows this world had ever seen. Now there was nothing but shifting dunes and the skeletal remains of ruined structures long swallowed by time.

The wind howled unchallenged by trees or walls, sweeping away footprints before they could settle. There were no roads, no shelter, no sign of life. The scar of the Second Sundering made this a cursed place.

Illevans placed the Portal here when the Shadow Wars descended on Avaleen. If those scholars and engineers had graves, they’d be rolling in them to know she was using it now.

As if aware of this fact, the Portal turned off with a hiss.

Damn it!

Elmira pulled up the collar of her tunic to cover her nose, shielding herself as best she could against the sand. It helped. A little.

Instinct prickled the back of her neck, and she glanced to the west. That’s when she spotted it. A roiling wall of sand stretching across the horizon from end to end approached fast beneath dark, angry clouds.

“Shterc!” she swore.

The voice huffed. “Chop, chop.”

Elmira scanned the area. If memory served, this Portal had once stood high, perched on a marble platform with two grand staircases leading up to it.

Tread lightly, she thought as she stepped carefully across what she hoped was the platform. If the sand was loose enough, one wrong step could drag her under before she even reached the dias.

The orb on her necklace pulsed faintly against her chest, communicating much faster with the Veil now that the attunement was stronger. Like two friends growing used to each other’s presence and company again. The Portal responded. Barely. A weak hiss. A few sputtering sparks. Nothing else.

She tried again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

The fourth time, frustration boiled over into a furious scream, kicking the base of the archway before dropping to her knees. The sand was scolding, and the wind strong enough to snatch the scream from her throat. She did something she was not proud of.

Tears sprang to her eyes, slipping down her cheeks before she could stop them. Quiet, hot tears that did nothing but give the sand something to cling to. Annoyed, she wiped them away with the back of her hand, but they kept coming, mingling with the sand where they sizzled into nothing like they had never existed.

Crying? Now? Why? This was so far removed from who she had been in any lifetime. For years, she had clawed her way through war zones, survived trials that broke the minds and bodies of champions, suffered through betrayals, stared death in the face too many times to count. She had given her heart up time and again and would do so again. This was one minor setback in the grand scheme of the mess that was her life. Why was she crying? Pathetic.

“Stress? Relief? Existential dread?” the voice offered. “Identity crisis?”

“Not helping,” she snapped. “But…” Maybe.

Her throat tightened as her body convulsed with sobs. Her limbs ached from exertion, her hands stained with blood and sand and grit and wet with melted snow. She hadn’t even noticed how drained she was. How long she had held everything in. It boiled so close to the surface that she just did not care anymore.

There was no one here. And that was the truth, was it not? She could pretend all she wanted, but the fact was, she was alone. Here in the Wastelands, where it had all happened so long ago. It hit her. How utterly alone she was.

Ayursha’s presence grew stronger, like a blanket wrapping around her shoulders. Despite the scorching heat, it was a welcome comfort. “I have known greater minds crumble for less. It is not a weakness, Elmira, it simply is. Take all the time you need. And when you are done and your body is done, get up and get to work,” she said with a voice both warm and knowing.

“Okay…” she whispered weakly and let it happen.

Let herself feel. Feel all of it. The fear. The loneliness of fighting battles no one would ever see. The frustration of never catching a break. The anger at Seora, at whoever was a part of this, at the entire damned world for always throwing her into the fire and expecting her to come out stronger.

Tears fell fast and thick, her body shaking as exhaustion crashed into her all at once. She curled forward, resting her forehead against her knees, arms wrapped around herself as though she could hold herself together through sheer force of will. For once, she let the grief sit beside her. She let herself be tired.

The sandstorm raged just beyond the Portal, howling like a living thing, threatening to swallow her whole. But here, in this moment, there was only silence. How long had she sat there? Minutes? An hour? It didn’t matter.

Eventually, the storm inside her chest began to settle just as the real one picked up speed. Her body ached, her head felt thick, and her heart was sore, but the worst of it passed.

She sat up slowly, rubbing her face with both hands before dragging them through her hair. Her fingers trembled, but she ignored it. She took a breath.

Deep. Steady. And the thought she had not registered came back. Seora. The headmistress of the A’triyes Academy, second in command to the Regent, and Elmira’s foe in many ways. Seora had been a part of what? She rocked back on her heels and looked up at the Portal, the stone arch quiet and dormant. The Portal wasn’t broken by natural means.

“That fucking bitch,” she exclaimed with a sharp exhale.

Scrambling through the sand to the left, she began digging, her fingers clawing through the hot, grainy surface to reach the hidden hub beneath.

The stormheat bore down on her like a lead weight, turning her black tunic and leathers into a furnace. Sweat beaded along her temples, and every instinct screamed at her to move faster. The storm was coming, but it felt like she would pass out long before it bore down on her. Finally, her fingers found metal.

She paused, heart pounding. Scratch marks lined the edges of the hatch. Someone had pried it open before her. A chill coursed down her spine. Running her fingers along the seams, she began checking for traps, for any sign of tampering that could kill her the moment she unlatched it. But there was none that she could see. It was, at the moment, safe enough and she pressed down on the latch to unhook it.

Most people didn’t even know this hub existed. To most, the Portals were just fancy archways, decorations without their unseen mechanisms. But she knew better. Like all their magitech, the arcana needed a physical component, and this was it. Crystals aligned perfectly, coupled with sigils and runes, made it all possible. Which was about as much as she understood of the whole thing. She was an arcanist, not an engineer.

Please, let the crystals be intact, she prayed as she lifted the metal hatch off with trembling hands. Damn, this heat was something, like a lid covering the landscape. The fabric grew uncomfortably hot on her skin, and she desired nothing more than to rip it all off.

It was not unheard of for scavengers to strip these hubs, selling enchanted components to the highest bidder, especially from abandoned places. If even one crystal was missing, she was trapped. No way out. Peering inside, there was a wave of relief as she noted that they were all there.

Far more pressing, however, was the fact that the lever, enchanted to activate the translocation beacon to connect this Portal to its kin across the realms, was not there at all. Gone.

“Are you kidding?” she hissed. “Why in the world would anyone cut this out?”

To make it look like a scavenger, that’s why. Her mind spun through possibilities, grasping for a reason. The sabotage was deliberate. Precise. And sloppy in its execution. Sure, there was sand everywhere, gumming up the delicate array of circuits. But it was fixable. If only she could reroute the energy, basically hot-wire the entire magitech system, she might get one last burst out of it. One jump.

The wind howled louder, the storm fast approaching. Static warned of imminent lightning.

“Who would do this?” she asked, even though she had her suspicions.

“A saboteur.”

Elmira shook her head. “I devised this plan myself.”

“Who knew about it?”

The answer came unbidden. The people who saw her off. Master Ulric. General Mijinn. Regent Misha. Therefore, the others in the Council knew. And only one of them would love to see Elmira lost in the plane between realms. Seora Atal.

Rage burned away the fear. She was not to die here. Not in this forgotten wasteland, not at the hands of some conniving ráktva who thought her dangerous enough to do away with in a freak Portal accident. It was satisfying to think up several ways to humiliate that two-faced traitor and it fueled her work for the next hour.

With newfound purpose, the work went smooth and fast. The edge of the storm was above her, air thick with dust, making it harder and harder to see even a foot in front of her. One more wire to connect, and she activated her orb.

Nothing.

“Ignis, come on!”

There was a small twinge of something inside her. “Rude.”

Just as the sands rose like tendrils around her with the storm surge, the Portal flared, the Veil pulling tight like a string snapping into place. She had never thrown herself into the plane so fast. The world twisted, and the desert vanished.

Despite there not being air inside the Veil, she still took a deep breath.

“Well done,” the voice said as she hurled towards the next anchor point outside Moraveil.

But Elmira was not relieved. Instead, a growling, snarling feeling filled her. Anger of knowing that someone had tried to strand her here. That she had been this close to disappearing into the Wastes, never to be seen again. Buried under the sand. Lost between worlds. Forgotten.

And for what? Because someone decided that she was not supposed to make it home? Really? Would she be that petty? Why? These thoughts were distracting. Perhaps that was why she did not realize that something was wrong until it was far, far too late.

At first, it was barely noticeable. A faint strangeness. A small tug at the edges of her awareness. Without warning, the block came swift and ruthless. Like hitting an invisible bump at full speed while being yanked violently to the side.

There was no chance to avoid it.

A Portal nearby seized her, wrenching her off-course with terrifying force. One moment, she was navigating the Veil, the next, she was forcibly expelled, flung into open air.

Her stomach lurched as gravity took hold, and she was falling. Free falling, ass over kettle. To her, it looked like the concrete slammed into her, rather than the other way around.

Agony exploded through her body as it impacted the ground, momentum carrying her into a brutal tumble down a flight of stairs that seemed to go on forever. Her weapons, her pack, every edge, every buckle, dug into her skin, bruising, cutting. Something cracked. There was the distinct sound of a sharp, sickening pop that sent a blinding bolt of pain through her ribs.

By the time she came to a stop, thirty feet away, sprawled and gasping, everything hurt. The crackle of the Portal dimmed and vanished with a swoosh. She stayed still, momentarily afraid to move, to breathe.

She was afraid to open her eyes but did it anyway. Towering metallic structures loomed above, jagged against the sky where dark clouds raced by at breakneck speeds. The air heavy, charged, and wrong. The roar reached her first, a wall of sound full of alarm and anger. A crowd.

People.

So many people. They were everywhere amidst toppled colorful banners. A massive crowd pressing in from all sides, their voices rising like a swirling mix of confusion and outrage. Elmira lay there, mind spinning, body screaming.

One thing was certain, that was for sure: she had absolutely no idea where she was.