“What do you mean you cannot reactivate it?” Elmira asked, struggling to keep the impatience out of her voice.

The last thing she needed was to snap at some self-important functionary, but patience was slipping like the sand that fell out of her clothes.

In front of her, the man with the grand mustache, resplendent in a sparkling green and blue uniform adorned with medals huffed and puffed out his chest.

“It is not possible, lady,” he said, his tone suggesting she was either a child or an imbecile.

Elmira exhaled through her nose. “Of course it is. Here, let me show you.”

A pair of guards closed in before she could take even two steps toward the steps. They wore their weapons lowered, but there was no mistaking the steel in their eyes, they had handled their fair share of troublemakers and in their eyes, she was just a number.

A ripple of unease passed through the gathered crowd like a fire message, a low hum of whispers, whimpers, and pointed glances. Something was going on in the corner but people were blocking her view. The ringing in her ears made it impossible to hear anything at this distance. Probably for the best. The tone was clear enough.

Why was this place so bloody familiar? The answer swam on the tip of her tongue but the pounding in her head sent it skittering away. There was that smell. Tangy and salty. Where in esirno was she?

The guards had been gentle enough when they had dragged her to her feet, checking her over for fatal injuries. But when it became clear that she would live, they had turned hostile fast. From what she had gathered, the Portal had not meant to be opened. The activation should have been impossible, and yet… Elmira had disrupted a farmer’s market that had been in full swing. The result was… let’s just say today’s produce came with an extra side of destruction. That only a handful of people had been injured was nothing short of a miracle.

But why? Portals were safe. Unless… The crystals that managed the flow of energy, containing it to a single, vertical plane, were gone.

“Yes, so imagine our surprise and your predicament,” the mustache man replied coldly, and only then did she realize that she had spoken out loud.

“I can assure you it was not my doing, sir,” Elmira said but like all her apologies it fell on deaf ears.

No amount of groveling or assuring that it was just an accident had appeased the guards waiting to haul her off, the crowd that found themselves in the middle of a wreckage, or the decorated man who had come running at the commotion.

Facing the official, she forced a demure smile and kept her hands off her weapons. While his expression did not change, there was a dangerous coiled tension to his posture that told her matters could escalate in a matter of seconds.

Being looked down upon had never put her in a good state of mind, and this pompous man was giving her the most uncivil stare she had ever seen. If it weren’t for the small matter of him standing between her and her only way home, she might have found his dedication almost admirable. The pride with which he bore his position, not to mention the technical finesse of dismissal he had undoubtedly honed for many years.

“Nobody touches the Portal without written authorization from the Bureau of International Travel,” he said, rolling the words out like scripture, “in triplicate, with an orange stamp for Portal Access—attached to Form 67B from the Engineer’s Guild.”

Elmira blinked. “That is not a thing.”

“Take it up with the Court.”

The Court. Which Court? She grit her teeth, briefly indulging in a moment to go through a couple of lovely mental scenarios of beating the smirk off his face with the nearest stone pillar.

Instead, she adjusted her stance, letting the lilt of the high akatian accent slip into her words, melodious, aristocratic, and most importantly, persuasive.

“I am in a hurry,” she said, enunciating each word, the accent foreign to her tongue.

It was the wrong move. His entire expression curdled. Gone was the mere incivility, his lips vanished entirely behind his mustache and his gaze looked downright venomous.

“Then you will be pleased to know,” he said smoothly, “that the next activation will occur at third bell.”

Elmira squinted at the sky, gauging the sun between the towering metallic structures overhead. Best estimate it was midday. Whatever that meant here.

“Not too bad,” she said slowly.

“Ten days from now,” he added, with a victorious chortle that nearly made one of those fictional scenarios come true.

“You have got to be kidding me!” she bellowed in the most un-ladylike manner she had ever mustered.

Several onlookers snickered. Most were quiet now, watching the scene unfold.

He lifted his chin with a huff. “That is the schedule, lady. Take it or leave it. There are plenty boats around.”

Elmira scowled. For someone who only worked here, he was alarmingly dedicated to his job. She straightened, trying to match his heigh, but the man still towered at least a head and a half over her.

“My name is Elmira,” she said, eyes flashing. “Not lady. I am the Elder of Agartha, Voice of Ayursha.”

The officer had the audacity to not even react. Just give her a slow, deliberate once-over. “Then you ought to know the schedule, m’lady,” he said dryly. “That Council of yours agreed to it through talks with the Omored Court two years ago, when your treaty was re-evaluated. You must have hit your head very hard to forget something like that, Elder. Though personally - “ his mustache twitched. “-  I believe you are full of crap. No offense, your ladyship.”

His bellowing laugh was echoed throughout the onlookers and the nearby guards. The pain in her head exploded when she spun. For a split second, the world tilted, and then everything snapped into sharp focus.

The structures, the design, the layout. Even the man, twirling his mustache like some insufferable bureaucratic villain. She blamed the concussion for not having spotted it sooner.

“Varu? This is Varu? Her voice was strangled.

The official cocked a brow. “Where did you think you were, love?”

Not in the middle of the fucking Morimyr Ocean, that’s where. Out loud she said: “…Not here.”

He shrugged. “Tough.”

She cared little for his tone, or the look on his face. Besides, people were sniggering now, openly ogling the derailed, sand-covered, bruised rogue shouting at the guards. The Wardens as they were called here. Recognized by their sea-colored uniforms and silver medallions issued by the elusive Omored King. Stupid. She should have spotted it sooner. No matter. She had to get out of there before the Wardens decided it would be prudent to lock her up to teach her a lesson. Or someone from the Syndicate came looking.

Rolling back her shoulders and lifting her chin, she threw one last glance at the dead Portal, then turned back to the official with an expression of such absolute superiority that he recoiled slightly.

“I will not ask your name,” she said. “You have done your job. But it is not just the Council who called me back that will be pissed if the Elder of Agartha is late for the Guardian’s Awakening.”

With that, she turned on her heel and stalked through a pair of gates shaped like pillars leading out of the square. Not bothering to see how he took it. After all, in his eyes she was just an unwelcome intruder, lying through her teeth.

"Easy now," she thought to herself as she stepped through the elegant mirror of the Portal itself. Gates acting like a second, earthly passage into the world. Fueled by superstition, it was nonetheless elegant.