I didn't breathe until the swirling light of the portal faded and the ground of Thornridge pressed firm beneath my boots again.
We made it.
Behind me, Kiani clung tightly to Aira, her little arms wrapped around her mother's waist. Aira was shaking, whether from fear or exhaustion I couldn't tell. The wind here was different—cooler, cleaner. It smelled of pine and distant smoke. And it was home.
"We're safe now," I whispered.
I turned to look at Aira. Her eyes were wide, scanning the forest like it was a dream. She hadn't been here in years—not since the night she left us.
"This is Thornridge?" Kiani asked quietly.
"Yes," I said. "Our home."
She tilted her head, listening to the birdsong in the trees. "It's quiet."
"Too quiet," Aira murmured.
The portal hadn't taken us to the village center. It never did. We were near the far border of the territory, not far from the southern patrol path. If we were lucky, the guards would spot us soon. If we weren't, we'd have to walk.
