Gwendolyn poked her head out from his shoulder and studied the runes for several seconds.
"...A low‑rank portal," she said. "The destination is below the third‑order trial zone. It won’t be overly dangerous."
"How do you know that?" Lydia Crowe looked at her curiously.
"Dragon‑kind understood runes three thousand years before humans," Gwendolyn replied without the slightest hesitation. "One‑third of your textbooks were originally written by us. Though humanity has mangled most of it."
The four others exchanged stunned glances. Cecil reached his hand into the rippling distortion. The air felt cool, dry and dusty. When his fingertips crossed the threshold, it was like dipping his hand into warm water; fine silver‑grey dust coated his skin as he pulled it back out.
"We can go in," he said.
Freddy Toller stepped through first. His body seemed to fold for a split second before he vanished entirely. Lydia Crowe went next, followed by Oliver Baker. Edwin hesitated for half a second, closed his eyes, and stepped inside as well.
Cecil stood before the portal with Gwendolyn perched on his shoulder.
"Once we’re inside," Gwendolyn warned, "follow my lead. That fragment space deep inside your soul might be connected to these portals. I haven’t worked out all the details yet."
"We’ll figure it out once we’re inside," he said.
He stepped forward and crossed into the portal.
The moment he passed through the barrier, his body stretched for an instant‑‑pulled from head and toe like kneaded dough before snapping back. Bursting blue‑white light bloomed then faded, and when his vision cleared:
Beneath his feet was rich dark brown earth, thick with the scent of decaying leaves. Overhead stretched a dull grey sky, no sun and no clouds, like frosted glass. Sparse twisted dead trees jutted out of the uneven ground, their branches gnarled as burnt fingers. Half‑buried stones and rusted fragments of old iron littered the landscape.
Freddy Toller, Lydia Crowe, Oliver Baker and Edwin were already standing a short distance ahead, scanning their surroundings.
"...Wow," Oliver Baker muttered. "This place is way bigger than I imagined."
Freddy Toller knelt down and rubbed a handful of soil between his fingers. "At least a dozen acres. There are signs of living creatures‑‑look over there‑‑"
He pointed toward the edge of the dead‑wood forest. Shallow tracks wound deeper into the wilderness. The prints resembled those of canines, yet larger than ordinary wolves, deep claw‑marks rimmed with thin frost.
Gwendolyn’s tail went rigid.
"Jackals," she said.
"‑‑I’ll go up and take a look first." Before Oliver Baker could finish his sentence, the grey‑feathered wind falcon perched on top of his head spread its wings and took flight, gliding toward the far side of the clearing. The grey shadow swept across the tops of the dead trees, as light as a leaf caught up by the wind.
Wind falcon spread its wings and made one full circle, then circled twice above the clearing and let out a short cry.
Oliver’s face darkened.
"More than three of them," he said. "Robin says the one behind the black boulder is noticeably larger than the other two. It’s probably the alpha."
Hardly had the words left his mouth when movement stirred beneath the fallen dead tree trunks on the left side of the clearing. Grey‑black fur pushed out from the shadows.
Its gaping jaws dripped with saliva, and dull‑yellow eyes stared unblinkingly at Oliver, who stood at the front. Right after that, a second jackal slipped out from the opposite side. It was slightly smaller but far more nimble, its paws touching the ground almost without a sound.
The third‑‑just as Oliver had said‑‑stepped slowly out from behind the black boulder. It stood taller than the other two, its shoulder blades jutted out, and around its neck ran a fringe of dark‑red ragged fur, like a faded scarf. Its gaze passed over Oliver, swept across every member of the group, and finally locked onto Gwendolyn on Cecil’s shoulder.
Cecil noticed the alpha jackal stared at Gwendolyn far longer than it stared at anyone else.
"Don’t lose your nerve," Gwendolyn said in a calm tone.
With that, she jumped down from Cecil’s shoulder. Her four paws landed on the soft earth, her pale blue‑white form stark against the greyish daylight. She took one step toward the smaller jackal on the right, her tail raised and her back slightly arched.
The jackal on the right let out a low growl, baring its fangs and hunching its body, yet it did not leap forward immediately.
"It hates the cold," Cecil said.
"Hating the cold doesn’t mean it won’t bite." Gwendolyn did not turn her head. "Don’t just stand there‑‑the one on the left and the alpha in the middle are yours to handle."
Cecil snapped back to his senses. Four others stood with him: Oliver and his wind falcon Robin, Edwin and his copper‑shell beetle, Freddy Toller and his grey‑furred weasel, Lydia Crowe and her emerald vine‑snake. Five humans against three jackals. Gwendolyn would fight the right‑hand one alone, while the other four needed to hold off the left jackal and the alpha.
"Oliver, can Robin harry the one on the left?" Cecil called out.
Oliver nodded and pointed toward the sky. Robin let out a sharp shriek, folded its wings, and dove. The grey streak shot like an arrow straight for the top of the left jackal’s head. The jackal snapped its head upward, baring its teeth. At the last second Robin swerved aside, its talons grazing the jackal’s ear and leaving a thin trail of blood.
Enraged, the jackal abandoned its standoff posture. It arched its back and leaped at Robin in mid‑air. Robin beat its wings and climbed to barely dodge the attack. The jackal crashed back down onto the ground, scattering dirt everywhere.
"It leaves its belly exposed when it jumps!" Lydia Crowe shouted.
The emerald vine‑snake Ivy, coiled around her wrist, slipped down to the ground and instantly slithered into the withered grass.
The green shape wriggled quickly through the yellow stalks, heading straight for the jackal Robin had drawn away.
"Ivy can wrap around its hind legs!" Lydia called.
Bind, not bite. The vine‑snake fought by coiling its body around its prey’s joints to restrict movement, giving its allies an opening to strike. But first Ivy needed to get close to its target.
After landing, the jackal quickly readjusted its stance. When Robin dove a second time, it did not jump. Instead it crouched low, ready to snap. The moment Robin’s shadow passed overhead, the jackal whipped its head and bit. Its fangs barely scraped Robin’s tail feathers, sending a few grey plumes drifting down.
Oliver’s face went pale. "Robin, come back!‑‑"
Robin climbed to a safe height, circling ten meters above the ground, no longer daring to dive recklessly. Three tail‑feathers on its left wing were missing, and its flight tilted slightly.
Meanwhile Ivy had only reached the grass two feet away from the jackal’s hind legs‑‑but the jackal’s ears twitched. It spun its head, its dull‑yellow eyes locking onto the faint green shape hidden in the weeds. Pushing off with its hind legs, it lunged toward Ivy’s hiding spot.
"Ivy!" Lydia screamed.
The grass churned. The emerald vine‑snake was pinned beneath the jackal’s paw, twisting helplessly. The jackal lowered its head to bite‑‑
A grey shape crashed in from the side. It was not Robin. It was Turner, Freddy Toller’s grey‑furred weasel.
Turner was less than one‑tenth the jackal’s size, but blindingly fast. The small grey body slammed into the jackal’s flank, its claws raking hard against the fur. The jackal flinched from the pain. Its paw pressing down on Ivy loosened for an instant, and Ivy slipped free, retreating deep into the grass.
After delivering that scratch, Turner quickly backed away and darted to Freddy’s feet. Its fluffy body trembled violently, clearly terrified by the jackal’s roar.
"Great work, Turner!" Freddy bent down, picked the weasel up and tucked it inside his coat. "We can’t send it in again‑‑it’s too timid."
"Then it’s my turn," Edwin said.
His copper‑shell beetle had stayed motionless on the back of his collar this whole time. Edwin brushed the top of the beetle’s shell with the back of his hand and whispered something. At last the insect moved‑‑crawling down his collar, along his arm to his wrist, then curling itself up with its hard shell facing outwards, like a bronze cannonball.
Edwin flicked his wrist and hurled it forward.
The beetle spread its wing‑covers mid‑air, tucked its six thin legs tight, and spun as it flew, slamming directly into the jackal’s forehead‑‑crack. The impact was not powerful enough to knock the jackal back, but the beast shook its head, its attention shifting away from Ivy in the grass and onto Edwin.
The jackal turned to face Edwin.
Edwin’s face drained of colour. That throw had been everything he could manage‑‑his beetle was named Rust, gifted at biting through locks, not fighting. Rust fell off the jackal’s nose, rolled in the dirt, flipped over, and lay completely still, playing dead.
"...Rust! Get up!" Edwin called.
The beetle did not move.
The jackal took one step toward Edwin.
Cecil had remained at the front, watching‑‑tracking everyone’s positions, the distribution of the jackals, and the fight between Gwendolyn and her opponent.
The jackal on the right had been driven back three steps by Gwendolyn. She had sunk her teeth into its front leg, cold frost spreading upward along the bone. Of the two jackals on the left, the alpha still stood beside the black boulder, not joining the fight, only observing.
It was watching.
Cecil suddenly understood what the alpha jackal was doing. It was waiting for its underlings to wear down the humans’ spirit‑beasts before entering the battle itself. Gwendolyn had told him last night that these jackals possessed intelligence; they were no ordinary wild animals.
"Edwin, fall back!" Cecil shouted. At the same time he bent down, picked up a fist‑sized rock from the ground, and hurled it at the jackal facing Edwin. The stone flew true, striking the jackal’s shoulder and making it stagger.