The sky, cloaked in a mantle of heavy clouds, seemed to reflect the turmoil churning within me as I made my way back toward Luke's house from the cover of the dilapidated shed. Each breath I expelled materialised into faint, ghostly puffs, dancing briefly in the cold air before dissipating, a silent testament to the chill that seemed to penetrate to the bone. My decision to avoid re-entering directly through Luke's brick wall was a tactical one, influenced by a deep-seated hesitation. It was a move that carried with it the weight of caution, a reluctance born from the desire not to reveal my presence or secrets before the right moment.

The time I had allocated to secure Griffin in the Portal Cave, a precaution to ensure his containment until I could interrogate him, and the council could decide his fate, now felt like both a necessary measure and a costly expenditure. With every step I took, urgency thrummed through my veins, a relentless drive that pushed me forward. The need to verify Luke's safety, to ensure that the shadows of my recent conflict with the Portal Pirates hadn't attracted unwanted attention, was paramount. The spectre of law enforcement, with its potential to unravel the fragile veil of secrecy we operated under, loomed large in my thoughts, a threat that could undermine everything we work to protect.

Ascending the incline that led to Luke's residence for the second time that day, my pace quickened despite the fatigue that clung to my limbs. A soft exclamation, "Oh no," slipped from between my lips, a spontaneous response to the sight that unfolded before me. The presence of Gladys's car, unexpected and potentially complicating, sparked a flurry of questions in my mind. What was her role in this day's events, and how had Luke managed in the aftermath of my altercation with the Portal Pirates? The uncertainty of her involvement added a new layer of complexity to an already intricate situation.

"Gladys," I called out, my voice slicing through the heavy, silent air like a knife, as I reached the end of the driveway. The world around me seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her response.

Silence greeted me back, the kind that prickles the back of your neck and sends your heart racing. My pulse kicked up a notch, a sense of foreboding crawling into the pit of my stomach, winding itself tight. "Gladys, everything okay here?" My question hung in the air, my steps towards the side of the truck measured and wary.

When Gladys peeked around the back, her smile was like a poorly fitted mask, one that didn't quite cover the tension etched deep in her features. "Cody!" Her voice was a jarring note of forced cheer, trying too hard to pierce the thick atmosphere of unease.

Shit! My mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other. Something was off, terribly off. "Yeah, everything is great here," Gladys's voice broke through my spiralling thoughts, her words flat, as if she was trying to convince herself more than me.

Drawing closer, I took her in, from the anxious flicker in her eyes down to her feet. And that's when I saw it—crimson droplets, stark against the white of her sneakers. My heart skipped a beat. Shit, what have you done, Gladys? The question screamed in my head, louder than anything else. Did you touch him?

"Oh," she laughed, but the sound was brittle, like thin ice cracking underfoot. "That’s just wine. I accidentally knocked my glass over." Her explanation hung between us, fragile and unconvincing.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the turmoil inside me. "Doesn’t surprise me, really." My words walked a tightrope between hope and skepticism, a reflection of the complex dance that was knowing Gladys. Her unpredictability was both a curse and a charm.

"How about I meet you back at home in an hour?" she suggested, her gaze darting nervously between me and the truck's rear, as if afraid of what might be seen.

What else can I do? The question was a heavy weight in my chest. Anything more, and my cover will be blown. With a sense of resignation, I started to walk away, each step heavy, my pace slow and deliberate. Inside, my mind was a storm, thoughts whirling chaotically. The distance between us grew with each step, but the unease, the questions, the fear—they clung to me, a cloak I couldn't shake off.

"Cody, wait!" Gladys's voice pierced the cold air, arresting my steps. At the end of the driveway, my body tensed, then relaxed ever so slightly, a glimmer of hope flickering across my face. Could this be my chance to step in, to make things right?

I turned, my heart pounding in my chest, waiting for Gladys to say more. But she only offered a small, uncertain shrug—a gesture that felt like a heavy door creaking open, inviting yet withholding. With a deep breath, I found my resolve and walked back, my steps heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

Bypassing Gladys, I approached the truck, bracing myself for what I might find. Then, the scene laid bare before me: a tableau so stark, so jarringly out of place in the quiet of Hobart. "What the fuck!" The words burst from me, a perfect blend of shock and disbelief, though my heart raced with the knowledge of the atrocity.

Luke, caught in the act over a body that spoke of untold stories, looked up, his face a canvas of surprise and fear. Nearby, Beatrix, Gladys's sister, stood frozen, her clothing a macabre tapestry of red. My gaze flickered between them, the sight igniting a flurry of questions in my mind.

"Who the fuck is that, Luke?" My voice climbed, a note of accusation threading through genuine concern. The sight of Beatrix, so close to the chaos, her clothes splattered with evidence, sent a shiver down my spine. She hadn't touched the body... had she?

Luke's response was a stutter, a stumble of words that betrayed his shock. "Wait. You know who I am?"

"Of course," I shot back, trying to maintain a veneer of control, to keep the upper hand in a situation rapidly slipping away. "We've been waiting for you." The words hung between us, loaded with meaning yet veiled in ambiguity.

"Waiting for me?" Luke's voice was a mix of bewilderment and fear.

Shit! The realisation hit me like a punch to the gut. I was teetering dangerously close to the edge, to revealing more than intended. I needed to steer this back, to regain control before it all plunged off another cliff. Dodging his question with the agility of a seasoned player, I pressed, "What happened to him?" as I climbed into the truck, my eyes never leaving the scene.

Shit," Luke's whisper cut through the tension, his eyes locking onto mine with a depth of recognition that sent a shiver down my spine. It was a look that unsettled me more than the sight of blood on Beatrix's clothing. "You were in my dream."

Focusing on the task at hand, I brushed aside Luke's cryptic statement. "Throat looks like it has been slit. Any idea who did this?" My voice was steady, despite the turmoil swirling inside me. Luke's mention of dreams was a distraction, one we couldn't afford, not here, not with the clock ticking against us.

"You were in my dream," Luke repeated, his voice softer this time, his gaze intense. "I recognise you now." His words were like a puzzle, pieces that didn't fit in the immediate crisis.

"We don't have time for this now, Luke," I pushed back, my tone firm, insistent. The urgency of the situation was mounting, the need to understand the unfolding mystery pressing. "I need to know who he is and what happened. We don't have much time." The words tumbled out, a rush of necessity. We were in the grip of something much larger than us, a shadowy dance with the Portal Pirate at its centre, awaiting a severe interrogation in Belkeep.

Luke faltered, words catching in his throat.

"His name is Joel," Beatrix cut in, her voice a beacon in the confusion. "He's Jamie's son." The information was a piece of the puzzle, a name to the face, a connection to the larger web we were caught in.

"Is he...?" My question trailed off as I nodded in Luke’s direction, seeking a verification against the fear that Joel might be more deeply involved, perhaps even a Guardian.

“No, I don’t think so,” Beatrix responded, her words offering a sliver of relief.

“What happened?” My demand was more pressing, the need for clarity, for any shred of understanding in the madness that enveloped us.

Beatrix's shoulders lifted in a shrug, a gesture of uncertainty in a situation that demanded answers.

“I’m not sure,” Luke admitted, his voice low. "He delivered a few tents here this morning. I took the opportunity to take them through the Portal while he was in the toilet. Then the boys accidentally ran through.”

“The boys?” The question burst from me, a mix of confusion and urgency. Who the hell are the boys?

“Dogs,” Beatrix clarified, her single word painting a clearer, yet still perplexing, picture of the events that had unfolded prior to my first arrival.

"And did he see?" My question cut through the heavy air, redirecting our focus back to Joel, the crux of our current dilemma.

“Yeah,” Luke confirmed with a nod, his voice laced with a grim certainty. “I’m pretty sure he did. And when I returned, I found him like this.”

"Shit," I whispered under my breath, my mind racing as I paced back and forth. We need to get rid of the body. The thought of persuading Luke to take him through the Portal nagged at me, a risky proposition that danced on the edge of desperation.

"Oh my god!" Gladys's exclamation cut through my thoughts, her voice tinged with panic and disbelief. "We've both seen the Portal too," she said, her hand wavering between herself and Beatrix. "Does this mean we are going to die too?"

I almost let out a chuckle, not at the gravity of our situation, but at the innocence wrapped in her fear. “Not today, Gladys. Not today,” I reassured her, trying to infuse a sense of calm.

“I am really confused,” Luke admitted, his confusion palpable as he rubbed his forehead. “Who are you again? And how do you know me? Did you have a dream too?”

The air was thick with questions and fear, a tangled web of reality and visions that seemed to ensnare us all. “I think Gladys and I had better finish making those deliveries,” Beatrix interjected, her voice a beacon of pragmatism in the midst of our turmoil. “I’ll call you later. When we’re done.”

Luke's nod was a silent agreement to her proposal, a temporary reprieve from the pressing matters at hand.

My eyebrows raised in realisation as the implications of Beatrix's words dawned on me. Making it look like the man made all the deliveries. It was a smart move, possibly clever enough to divert suspicion and buy us some time. Perhaps I need to give Luke a little more credit, I thought to myself, acknowledging the ingenuity.

“Be careful. Both of you,” I warned the sisters, my voice heavy with concern. Relief washed over me at the thought of Gladys being removed from the immediate danger, yet the caution required of their next actions wasn't lost on me. The risks involved in making the deliveries were significant, and the consequences of being caught loomed large in my mind.

As the sisters' chatter and footsteps receded into the distance, situation settled back around Luke and me. His gaze found mine again, filled with questions, fear, and a hint of desperation. The silence between us was a chasm filled with unspoken words and the heavy weight of decisions yet to be made.

"I think you’re in imminent danger, Luke," I said, holding his gaze with an intensity that I hoped would convey urgency. The thought of Nelson, trapped near Luke's new settlement, cast a long shadow over me. Everyone Luke had brought through to Clivilius could be in peril. Yet, a flicker of a cold, strategic thought crossed my mind—if Nelson were to eliminate Luke, he'd essentially be sealing his own fate as well, cutting off his only path back to Earth.

"Was he killed because of me?" Luke's voice broke through my contemplations, laden with guilt and fear. "Because I let him see the Portal?"

"No," I responded with a conviction I hoped would be contagious. "I don’t think it was your fault at all." It was crucial he believed that; guilt could immobilise him when swift action was needed most.

Luke inhaled deeply, a silent struggle visible in the rise and fall of his shoulders as he grappled with the weight of the situation.

"We need to get rid of the body. You should take him to Clivilius," I suggested, offering a solution that, while grim, seemed the most practical under the circumstances.

"I can’t. Jamie would kill me if he knew his son was dead because of me," Luke countered, the fear of reprisal evident in his voice. His concern for Jamie's reaction was understandable, yet it paled in comparison to the immediate dangers we faced.

"Luke!" I found myself gripping his shoulders, trying to anchor him. "It’s not your fault." It was vital he understood this, that the blame lay not in his actions but in the dangerous world that he was now entangled with.

Luke's expression was a mix of frustration and desperation as he considered the options. "There has to be another way."

I began to pace, each step a measured beat as I turned over every possibility in my mind. The interior of the truck felt like a cage, confining my thoughts and options. After what felt like an eternity but was only a few moments, an idea struck me. "There is," I said, the words laced with a newfound resolve.

"Get out of the truck," I instructed Luke, not waiting for his response before jumping down myself. The cool air outside was a sharp contrast to the stifling atmosphere within, but it was here, in this space between confinement and freedom, that our next steps would unfold. My mind raced, plotting a course of action that could navigate us through the immediate labyrinth of danger and deception in which we found ourselves.

As Luke quickly obeyed, “I need the keys,” I stated, extending my hand expectantly. It was a demand more than a request.

“Where are you taking him?” Luke's voice carried a mix of fear and curiosity as he placed the keys in my palm, his eyes searching mine for an answer I wasn't sure he was ready to know.

Without a word, I reached into my shirt pocket, the fabric brushing against my fingers as I retrieved my Portal Key. The small, unassuming device was inconspicuous to the untrained eye, but its power was immense, a direct line to realms beyond normal human reach.

Luke's intake of breath was sharp, a gasp that filled the silence between us.

With a practiced motion, I activated the device. A small ball of bright energy burst forth, darting through the air with precision and grace. It struck the large gate, a silent herald that awakened the portal. In an instant, the gate's surface came alive, swirling with radiant colours that danced across its expanse, a mesmerising display of light and energy.

"I'm taking him to Clivilius,” I announced, the words heavy with the responsibility I was shouldering. It was a declaration that left no room for doubt or debate.

Luke moved aside, his actions automatic as he gave me space. His stare, filled with a complex blend of emotions, followed me—a silent observer to the unfolding scene.

Climbing into the cab of the truck, I felt the familiar weight of the keys in my hand. The engine roared to life under my touch, its rumble a steady companion in the stillness of the morning. With careful precision, I reversed the truck, guiding it towards the portal.

The moment of crossing was surreal, a sensation that never failed to stir a mix of exhilaration and trepidation within me. The truck, the lifeless form in the back, and I, we all vanished through the wall of colour.

The brakes screeched to a halt, a jarring symphony that echoed through the cave as I jumped to the ground, my heart thundering against my ribs. The crisp air bit at my skin, a stark contrast to the tension that wrapped around me like a cloak. My gaze lifted to the small group assembled on the far side, their silhouettes casting long shadows against the rocky walls. The twins, Chief Lewydd, and his second-in-command, Brogyin Tillop, sat with a calm that belied the storm I felt brewing inside. This can’t be good, the thought ran through my mind like a chilling premonition.

“It’s good to see you back in one piece, son,” I called out to Fryar, mustering a smile that felt as though it was carved from stone. The effort to sound casual, to inject a note of normalcy into the palpable tension, was a battle in itself.

Chief Lewydd rose with a deliberateness that seemed to draw the very light towards him, his presence commanding even in silence. He took several steps toward me, each one measured and heavy with an unspoken gravity. “Is this your idea of locking up a prisoner?” His voice was a low rumble, the words laden with a disapproval as cold and unforgiving as the cave walls. In his hand, he held up a rope, cut in pieces, a silent accusation that hung in the air between us.

A dry lump formed in my throat, my mind racing for an explanation, for any words that might diffuse the tension. “Where is Griffin?” I asked, my voice betraying the nervousness that gripped me.

The response was a collective silence, a wall of blank stares that offered no solace, no answers. Chief Lewyyd’s shrug was callous, a gesture that seemed to dismiss my question, leaving a cold dread to settle in my stomach.

“Shit,” I whispered under my breath, the word barely audible, yet carrying the weight of my realisation. The situation was unravelling faster than I could have anticipated, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. With a heavy heart and a mind swirling with unanswered questions, I commanded the Portal closed.

As the reality of our predicament set in, the cave, with its cool shadows and ancient stones, felt more like a tomb than a sanctuary. Further discussion with Luke would have to wait.