The portal opened and nobody moved.
The carved frame lit from within — pale light filling the grooves, the spirals and angles glowing. The dark space between them brightened. The pull Jake had felt since the first day sharpened into a direction.
Link four. Open. Waiting.
The bunny had healed them after the final. All six, both teams, the same casual hand. Jake's ankle worked. His ribs were straight. His body was whole. The room was still grey. The sheet was still against the far wall.
Nobody walked to the portal. Six people sat on the warm stone and watched it from a distance, the way you'd watch a door you weren't ready to open.
Jake stood up and walked across the room.
The tall one looked up. He was sitting with his team, the three of them close together, packs between their knees. The wide one was rewrapping something on his left hand. The woman was eating dried fruit from a pouch, slowly, staring at the wall.
Jake sat down across from them.
The wide one glanced at the tall one. The tall one met Jake's eyes.
"I'm Jake," Jake said.
A pause. "Dren."
"The quiet one?"
The wide one studied his hands. "Hauk."
The woman didn't look up from the wall. "Mira."
"Mira. You nearly broke my ribs with those stones."
"I was aiming for your legs." She ate another piece of dried fruit. "You're fast."
Dren's face was drawn. Hauk's hands — those dense, heavy hands — were resting on his knees with a strange gentleness. Mira was eating with the mechanical rhythm of someone who'd decided eating was easier than thinking.
"You were in the group of eight," Jake said. "With Roden."
Dren's jaw shifted. "Yes."
"You traveled together. Two links."
"Yes."
"Did you know him? Before this room, I mean. On the platforms. In the forest."
Dren's eyes went to the sheet against the far wall — briefly, then away, the way everyone's did.
"He carried extra food," Dren said. "Always. For anyone who ran out. He carried for eight people and never once mentioned it." He paused. "On the forest he walked at the back of the group so nobody fell behind."
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"Pol kept watch at night," Hauk said. His voice was deeper than Jake expected. Rough. "Four arms meant he could hold a weapon and keep his hands warm at the same time. He complained about the cold every morning. Every single morning."
Mira stopped eating. "I liked them," she said. Flat. Directed at the wall. "I liked both of them."
The room was quiet.
"Then why," Jake said.
The tiredness in Dren's face was old. Older than this room. "Because the alternative was us under that sheet. And Roden would have done the same thing."
"You don't know that."
"I do. I watched him fight. He didn't hold back against his opponents. He beat them and watched the rabbit walk to the center. Same as us. Same as you."
Jake sat with that. Dren was right. Roden had won his fights. Roden had watched the bunny walk to the center after each one. The only difference was that Roden lost and Dren didn't.
"He was looking for his brother," Jake said.
"I know. He told us on the second night in the forest."
They sat across from each other. The portal glowing on the far wall.
"For what it's worth," Jake said, "I would have beaten you with three more fights."
Dren's expression shifted. "Maybe."
"Definitely."
"I'm fast."
Hauk made a sound. Low, in his chest. It took Jake a moment to realize it was a laugh. Mira looked up from the wall for the first time. Her eyes went to Jake's bare feet, then his face.
"Your owl is watching us," she said.
Jake turned. Kitch was sitting against the far wall, both amber eyes locked on the conversation. He didn't look away when Jake caught him.
"He does that," Jake said.
Vauren appeared. He walked over with the stride that meant he'd been watching from a distance and decided the situation required his presence. He stood behind Jake, arms at his sides, and faced the three of them.
"You fight well," Vauren said to Dren. No context. No preamble. Just the statement, delivered precisely.
Dren looked up at him. "So do you. Your side. I should have guarded it better."
"Yes. You should have."
Mira almost smiled. Hauk made the chest-sound again.
"We should go," Dren said. He stood. Hauk stood. Mira folded her pouch and stood. They picked up their packs.
"Link four," Jake said.
"Link four."
They walked to the portal together. Six people, two teams, the grey room behind them.
The bunny was sitting in the center. Jake had stopped checking whether it was there. It was always there when it mattered.
He stopped in front of it. The others walked past, toward the portal. Kitch paused. Vauren paused. They waited.
"I'm going to find a way to change this," Jake said.
The bunny's ears tilted. The dark eyes found him.
"You're not the first to say that."
"The one with the same light."
"Yes."
"What happened?"
The rabbit was quiet. The ears rotated slowly. The sourceless light fell on the white fur the same way it fell on everything in this room — even, flat, indifferent.
"He came back," the bunny said. "Stronger than anything that has walked through this room in a very long time. He stood where you are standing. He could have broken what I am." The ears stilled. "He chose not to. The door between three and four does not open without me."
The small body, the long ears, the hands that healed and killed with the same fingers. A being that existed to test, to filter, to decide what passing costs. And someone — the one with the same light — had stood here strong enough to end it and walked away because ending it would close the door for everyone behind him.
"He chose not to," Jake repeated.
"Some doors require a keeper. Even a cruel one." The rabbit's head tilted. "He hated me for it. I did not mind."
Jake stood there for a moment longer. Then he turned and walked to the portal where the others were waiting.
Kitch fell into step beside him. "What did it say?"
"Something about doors."
"Helpful."
The pale light of the portal. The grooves that fit everyone. Vauren was standing at the edge, waiting. He'd waited at the edge of the forest's portal. He'd waited at the top of the thirty-first platform. He waited now.
"Together?" Jake said.
"Together," Vauren said.
Kitch tilted his head. "Is this a tradition I should know about?"
"It is now," Jake said.
They stepped through.