Mike awoke to pain.
It pulsed from his ribs like a second heartbeat, deep and hot and dull. Breathing hurt. Moving hurt worse. He lay beneath a canopy of moss and fern leaves, tucked into a shallow hollow beneath a rock outcropping. Morning light filtered through the trees in muted silver beams, catching on the dust in the air.
Ren sat a few feet away, sharpening a knife with quiet, practiced strokes. Aero perched nearby on a crooked branch, still as a statue, feathers puffed against the chill.
Mike groaned as he sat up.
Ren didn't look at him. "Try not to move too fast. You took a direct hit."
Mike winced. "Feels like I took five."
"You almost didn't get up at all."
They fell into silence for a few minutes. The fire had burned down to glowing coals. Mike glanced at Aero, who blinked once, then hopped closer to nudge her head gently against his arm.
"Thanks," he whispered.
Ren finally spoke. "We can't outrun him. Not forever."
"Moar," Mike said.
Ren nodded. "He's not just a hunter. He's Vlad's enforcer. If he's chasing you personally, it means the tyrant knows who you are. Or suspects."
Mike reached for his satchel, pulling it close. The gemstone Lirien had given him pulsed faintly. He opened it and retrieved the map. The glowing path was still there—pulsing brighter now, shifting slightly toward a series of symbols etched near the edge of the parchment.
He traced them with his finger. They were different from the others. Sharper. Angular. They reminded him of gears.
And the device.
His heart sank.
"We need the teleporter," he said. "If we can get back to where it brought me in, maybe I can use it to go home."
Ren gave him a long look. "There's something you're not saying."
Mike hesitated.
Then he told him.
About Jake. The accident. The cave. The device. The whisper. Jake's warning.
And the part he'd left out until now—the creeping sense that his father might have come through the portal too. That he might still be out there. Somewhere.
Ren listened without interrupting.
When Mike finished, the fire had gone quiet. Only the sound of wind through the trees remained.
"I'm not ready to give up," Mike said. "I need to know. About Jake. About my dad. About why this bow chose me."
Ren leaned forward, feeding a small twig into the embers. "Then let's fix the device."
They left the hollow by midday, moving slower than before. Every step sent pain rippling through Mike's side, but he bore it silently. He had to.
The map led them back to the place where the teleporter had first activated—a clearing marked by four blackened stones in a perfect square. The trees surrounding it were warped, twisted as if pulled by gravity in too many directions.
The device lay where Mike had dropped it weeks earlier—half-buried in moss, its surface cracked, its light dim.
He knelt beside it and ran his fingers across the fissures. Something inside it clicked faintly, like a broken clock struggling to turn.
Ren crouched beside him. "Can you fix it?"
Mike didn't answer.
Instead, he pulled the gemstone from his satchel and pressed it to the center of the device.
A hum.
The cracks glowed faintly.
A flicker of light danced across the surface—and then the device sparked, shuddered, and died.
The gemstone went dark.
Mike let out a shaky breath. "It's not enough."
Ren sat back. "Then what now?"
Mike looked to the forest beyond.
"I think the map was never meant to lead me back," he said softly. "It's leading me forward."
Ren didn't argue.
Instead, he rose and offered Mike a hand.
"Then we go forward," he said.
Together, they buried the remains of the device beneath one of the stones. Aero circled once above the clearing, then settled on Mike's shoulder as they turned toward the next glowing path on the map.
Mike didn't look back.
Because the truth was no longer hiding.
There was no way back now.
Only forward.