Arrival to Avalon
Posted on Mon Jul 20th, 2026 @ 8:18am by Kennedy Kelly & Hayden Davis & Maeve MacKenna & Jennifer Bryant & Drew Williams & Alaric Thane & Josiah Martin & Marisol Cabral & Casey Severide & Gwendoline “Gwen” Osborn & Skjoldr Jórundsson (Hrimstrand)
12,220 words; about a 61 minute read
Mission:
Episode 8: Shadows Over Avalon
Location: Avalon
Timeline: March 26, 1992
ENTRANCE THROUGH THE PORTAL
The moment they each stepped through the portal, the world disappeared around them.
Weightlessness seized each X-Men as a sharp buzzing filled their ears. Their senses were overwhelmed by a rush of heat, confusion, and disorientation while the acrid scent of ozone flooded their lungs. Magic coursed through every nerve, twisting their perception of up and down until the sensation abruptly ended.
Then gravity reclaimed them as they each burst from the sky and plummeted toward a densely forested hillside.
KENNEDY
Although Kennedy had retired from the trapeze and acrobatics, the year of disciplined training had created some form of second nature inside of her. Instinct took over and she tucked into a tight somersault, turning what could have been a bone breaking impact into a controlled roll across the moss covered earth.
Even so, the hillside refused to let her off easily and she bounced over tangled roots, slid through damp ferns, and rolled another dozen feet before a slender tree caught her with a jarring thud. A groan escaped her lips as she leaned against the trunk, taking a moment to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her.
As the dizziness faded, Kennedy lifted her gaze and took in her surroundings. This forest felt impossibly ancient with its towering trees with trunks broader than automobiles that stretched high into the heavens. Their branches weaving together into a dense emerald canopy that swallowed most of the daylight. Soft carpets of moss blanketed the forest floor, broken only by sprawling ferns and weathered stones draped in emerald green. The air was cool and rich with the scent of damp earth and growing things. It was a place untouched by time, a vibrant, tranquil wilderness that looked as though it had been plucked from the pages of a fairy tale.
Pushing herself to her feet, Kennedy brushed dirt and pine needles from her clothes and hair before gathering the equipment that had scattered during her descent. Whatever enchantment the portal had inflicted upon her had finally worn off, leaving her mind clear once more. Aside from a few fresh bruises and a damaged ego, she had escaped remarkably well.
The greater problem was her landing. She had no idea where she had arrived from, her only clue was the unmistakable path she'd carved through the pristine hillside. Delicate ferns had been flattened, moss stripped from stones, and fresh gouges marked the soft earth where she'd tumbled down the slope. After adjusting the quiver slung across her back one last time, Kennedy started climbing toward the top of the hill, hoping it would lead her back to where the others might arrive from.
SKJOLDR
Skjoldr came through the sky like something the world had thrown back.
The portal spat him out above the treeline, weightless for one sickening heartbeat before gravity seized him and dragged him down through a tangle of green light and rushing air. Heat and ozone clung to his lungs. His ears rang. The sky turned, the forest surged up beneath him, and for a moment there was no up or down, only falling.
He did not waste breath cursing it.
Skjoldr twisted in the air, one shoulder dropping as instinct and battle training took over. Hreggbrot was already in his hand. Varðbjörn’s presence flared against his thoughts, cold and sharp, and the pale shape of the bear burst into being beside him as if torn from cloud and frost.
The hillside rushed up.
Skjoldr hit hard.
One knee drove into the mossy earth. One fist struck down beside it, Hreggbrot’s head biting deep into the ground with a heavy, splintering crack. Soil burst outward. Ferns flattened in a wide shuddering ring, and the roots beneath him groaned as the force of his landing travelled through the slope. For a breath he stayed there, head bowed, shoulders rising and falling beneath the weight of the fall, the open forest trembling around him as if deciding whether to object.
Then he lifted his head.
The world before him was not the one he had left.
Ancient trees towered around him, their trunks broader than fishing huts and their branches woven high overhead in a canopy thick enough to swallow the sun. Moss lay over stone like old green wool. Ferns crowded the slope in soft, damp ranks, broken now by the scar of his landing. The air tasted of earth, leaf-mould, and growing things untouched by axe or road. It was beautiful in the way old places were beautiful: not gentle, not safe, only alive beyond anyone’s permission.
For one dangerous instant, it reminded him of home.
Not the snow. Not the sea. But the age of it. The feeling that stories had walked here before men learned to name them.
Varðbjörn landed more silently than anything his size had a right to, pale paws touching the moss beside him. The great bear lowered his head, scenting the air, his outline half-solid and rimmed in cold light.
“Not our wood.”
“No,” Skjoldr said, pushing to his feet. His voice was rough from the crossing. “But old.”
He pulled Hreggbrot free from the earth and scanned the hillside.
There.
A torn path through the ferns. Moss stripped from stone. Fresh gouges in the soft ground. Someone had fallen, rolled, and dragged the forest with them.
His chest tightened before he saw her.
Kennedy was climbing back up the slope, brushing herself off, quiver set at her back, hair caught with pine needles and stray leaves. Alive. Moving. Bruised, maybe, but standing.
The breath Skjoldr had not realised he was holding left him at once.
“Kennedy.”
He crossed the distance quickly, not running blindly but close to it, heavy boots finding purchase over root and stone. When he reached her, his free hand came up as if to touch her shoulder, then stopped short, giving her the choice even now.
His eyes moved over her face, her arms, the way she held herself, looking for blood, broken bone, pain she might hide out of pride.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, low and urgent. “Look at me.”
Varðbjörn came up behind him, placing his massive body between them and the deeper forest, head lowered as he watched the shadows beneath the ancient canopy.
“She stands.”
“Aye,” Skjoldr said, though his gaze never left Kennedy. “I can see that.”
His hand finally settled lightly at her upper arm, careful despite the strength in it, grounding rather than restraining.
“You crossed before I could reach you,” he said, and beneath the steadiness there was something rawer, something that had not had time to hide itself properly. “Next time, give me a chance to keep up.”
"I wasn't..." Kennedy stopped herself midsentence, her eyes lifting to meet his. "You came for me?" There was a flicker of disbelief in her voice before it softened into something quieter. "You followed me?"
Ever since the War Room, her words had carried the edge of a drawn blade. The huntress within had taken hold, transforming her into someone fierce and calculating. But in that instant, he watched the tension melt from her features and the hardened mask slipped away, revealing the young woman who treasured books and stolen evenings beside a crackling fire.
Before Skjoldr could answer, Kennedy rose onto the tips of her toes and kissed him. It was only a single kiss, warm and lingering, but it carried more than gratitude. There was relief in it, as something deeper began to take root. He could feel it in the way she leaned into him, in the hesitation she no longer fought. She was learning to trust him. Whatever wall had separated them since they met had begun to crumble, and in its place something new, fragile, and undeniably exciting sparked to life between them.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely louder than the breeze, though there was no one else there to hear it.
Skjoldr stayed still for the kiss.
Not because he did not want it. Gods, he wanted it. But there was something in the way she rose to meet him, something unguarded and fragile beneath the warmth, that made him hold himself carefully. One hand settled at her waist, steady rather than possessive, while the other remained at her arm until she found her balance.
When she drew back, his gaze searched her face in quiet relief.
“Aye,” he said, as if the answer should have been obvious. “I came for you.”
There was no grandness in it. No boast. Just the plain truth of him, spoken low beneath the ancient trees.
“You crossed alone,” he added, thumb brushing once against her sleeve. “I wasn’t going to let this place have you without answer.”
Varðbjörn gave a low huff behind him, still watching the forest.
“He ran.”
Skjoldr’s mouth tightened faintly at one corner, though his eyes stayed on Kennedy. “I walked quickly.”
The bear did not dignify that with a reply.
Skjoldr softened then, his hand lifting briefly to touch a pine needle caught in her hair. He removed it with surprising care, letting it fall between them.
“You’re welcome, Ljósmær,” he said quietly. “Now stay close until we know what kind of story we’ve stepped into.”
DREW
Drew emerged from the portal in midair above a forested hillside. He started to freefall, but his fall seemed to slow as his perception kicked into high gear. He angled his descent to fall near the tree branches and limbs in an effort to slow himself. He hit the canopy of foliage successfully enough that he broke his fall with a few minor scrapes and cuts. He tucked and rolled as he hit the ground, lessening further damage from his plummet.
Drew lay still for a moment and took stock. He felt some minor pain in his limbs, but nothing appeared to be broken. He took a few deep breaths and sat up. He stood all the way up and surveyed his surroundings. He heard Skjoldr and Kennedy calling out to one another and moved out at a brisk jog to find his companions. He paused as they came into view and then he sped up to them. “How are you both?”
MAEVE
Maeve came through falling.
Sky spun above her, forest below, green and huge and rushing up far too fast. For a second she was all panic, all empty air, one hand clawing uselessly at nothing as ozone burned at the back of her throat.
Then Avalon answered.
The hillside rose in her senses before it reached her body. Stone under moss. Soil soaked deep with age. Iron sleeping far below. Maeve felt it all at once, too much and too close, and something in her shoved back.
She stopped above the trees.
Not neatly. Not like she had meant to. Her boots hung over open air, hair whipping across her face, both hands curled tight as loose stones lifted from the slope beneath her. For one stunned heartbeat she simply stayed there, suspended over the ancient forest, thin green-gold light flickering through the moss-covered cracks below.
Then the moment broke.
Maeve dropped the last distance and hit the hillside on one knee and one palm, hard enough to scatter stones through the ferns. The ground shuddered beneath her hand, then settled, almost obedient. She stayed there, breathing hard, staring down at the earth like it had betrayed her by helping.
“Right,” she muttered, shaken enough to sound angry about it. “That’s new.”
JOEY
Joey didn't quite expect to be hurled through the air on arrival, but his own instinct kicked in quickly as he fell, twisting his body and grabbing out at an oddly well-placed branch and breaking the fall with foliage that...moved? He must have been imagining things in the confusion.
Regardless, he made it to the ground but staggered to his knees when his senses finally caught up. He sucked in a breath as his hand shot out until his claws --not claws, still human fingernails, Thank God-- pressed against rough tree bark.
Avalon answered. That was the only way he could describe it. The tree beneath his palm was not just a tree. It was root, and leaf and running sap with the memory of ages of the sun, old enough to have forgotten what dying meant. Just as quickly, the grass under him hummed with hidden paths and life in the soil. Somewhere nearby, he felt water moving, bright, clean, and tinkling like a bell over stone. Every living thing, and even the land itself, was like a secret scripture, and louder than it should have been, and clearer than it had any right to be.
If his home spoke in stone, heat, and patience, and Achill had been heavy with peat, salt, and grief, then Avalon sang a song of undimmed spring. For one terrible, beautiful moment, he felt like walking forward, smiling like Kennedy had done.
His fingers dug into the tree's bark. The tree welcomed the contact in a way that made his throat tight. Come. Deeper. Not a voice this time, or even really words. Worse. An invitation carried in root-pressure and birdsong and the flicker of animal lives on the edge of his own. It called to the rat in him, making it feel almost sacred. A small, sharp thing to be loved in the underbrush.
Joey closed his eyes and whispered another quiet prayer. He forced his mind to remember the mission. Maeve. Kids.
"Son of a..." he muttered. "This ain't fightin ' fare," he added, pushing himself upright. He took a breath before calling out, "Maeve? I'm behind you." He paused again. "And I officially like this place way too much already. That can't be a good sign."
HAYDEN
The warm hug disappeared when Hayden hit open sky. She pushed the panic aside and pulled together the ample humidity forming a dense shield of churning water under her feet.
It slowed her descent somewhat, But nowhere near as much as she'd hoped. The branches absorbed more of the force while the broken pieces flew up and scratched her arms and face. The larger branches left bruises that would stick around for a while. She slammed into the solid ground of the hillside with enough force to knock her on her butt.
Hayden formed water cannons to help with speed and direction as she slid down the side of the hill, soil and fern flying up and sticking to her. A wet gouge was cut into the soft earth as she finally came to a hard stop near the trunk of a giant tree. The water flowed up around her and became like a serpent coiling around her torso. She brushed the debris and trickles of blood off and looked up; all the trees were giant.
"Huh. We're definitely not in Kansas anymore." Hayden began walking through the damp undergrowth, looking for any signs of the others or where they went.
ALARIC
The world snapped back into existence with a violent lurch, and Alaric found nothing beneath him but open sky. Wind howled past his ears as the forest rushed up to meet him.
Instinct hit before thought. Limbo’s magic flared under his skin, hot and volatile, answering panic before he could shape a proper spell. His eyes burned yellow as he thrust a hand downward, fingers clawing at the air.
A burst of arcane force detonated beneath him. It was raw and unfocused, more reflex than technique. The shockwave caught him like a giant hand, slowing his plummet just enough to keep his bones from shattering. His stomach lurched as the spell flared again in a second pulse that turned a lethal fall into a brutal drop.
He slammed through the forest canopy hard. Branches broke while others slapped him in the face. Then he hit the hillside hard, tumbling through brush and dirt and ferns and rocks. He tucked and rolled as the world spun in a violent blur until he skidded to a stop against a fallen log. Alaric groaned, rolling onto his back as the last flickers of violet energy crackled off his fingertips.
"Okay," he muttered, wincing as he pushed himself upright. "Sticking the landing is overrated anyway. But that was different... more powerful than I expected."
Around him, leaves were drifting and dust was falling as the forest settled. A pulse of magic still hummed under his skin, restless and hot. Alaric hadn't felt that for a long time. His mind raced with suppositions that needed further investigation, but not right now. Now, it was time to find the others.
GWEN
Thanks to her goblin glider, Gwen passed through the portal with ease. Landing gently rather than plummeting, she connected with the rest of the X-Men was ease.
Jennifer
Jennifer felt herself falling. The air whipped past. Her power pressed upwards. Somehow, not quite enough. But she hads known, since long before she was an X-Men, how to take a tumble. It still hurt a little. She grimaced as she pushed herself to her feet. But there was no real injury. She blinked. Looking around for her teammates.
Casey
Casey had his eyes still closed; his body hurt as he passed through the portal, and his body instinctively started to heal to numb the pain. Then there were several long seconds of weightlessness. He opened his eyes just in time to drop through the forest canopy, hitting several branches on the way down. His brain couldn't work fast enough to start his flight abilities as the pain triggered his healing to at least numb the pain. Falling several more seconds before stopping at the base of a massive tree with a hard and heavy thud. His shirt torn, his hat floated down next to him; he let out a long "owwww....well at least it wasn't a bottomless pit..." Using the trunk of the tree to hoist himself up, the rucksack heavy on his back. Getting to his feet with a groan, reaching down and scooped the hat from the ground. Placing it on his head, he looked around; he was in the forest, unsure where the rest had ended up. "Ollie ollie oxen free!?" he called out, seeing if anyone would hear him; he listened for a response.
Madi
A soft scream of surprise accompanied Madi as she hurtled towards the ground. She had expected to be dumped out onto the ground, not into mid-air. Who had designed that portal anyway? She wanted to complain to the manager.
And then-
SPLASH!
“Euargh!” she complained. “The only mud puddle and I had to land in it.” Oh well, at least it was only mud. After quickly extricating herself from it, she wiped her hands on her pants, but that only smeared the mud, so she wiped them on the ground, then glanced around, checking visually that everyone was okay.
EVERYONE
With the team reunited on the other side of the portal, one question lingered what now?
Avalon had greeted them with deceptive tranquility. Its towering trees swayed gently in the breeze as birdsongs drifted through the canopy and shafts of golden sunlight pierced through the thick canopy of emerald leaves. It was beautiful and inviting, yet that beauty concealed an unsettling truth. Every soldier who had crossed into this realm before them had vanished without a trace and somewhere beyond this ancient forest, the missing children still waited.
Crossing the portal had been an accomplishment, but it was only the beginning. The answers they sought would not reveal themselves willingly, nor would Avalon offer a clear path forward. Every decision carried weight, every direction held uncertainty, and every moment spent standing still was another moment the children remained lost. The mission had entered its most uncertain phase and the next move belonged to them.
In Limbo, Alaric spent years living with the corruption woven through his magic and his soul. It was normal. He didn't constantly think about it any more than someone thought about the weight of their own arm. Then came Earth with its different ether that affected his conjuring drastically. And now, this place.
While in Limbo, the realm around him and the corruption within him was like a second heartbeat. It was a familiar weight deep within the soul. It was natural. On Earth, that feeling was muted. Like Limbo, this place was alive. The forest breathed and the earth had rhythm while the air carried purpose. Magic wasn't being cast. It simply was.
However, he was not the lord of this realm nor the master of its magic. And he could feel it. He was a guest that the realm might not entirely trust. He was still more powerful than on Earth and a capable sorcerer, but he was operating under someone else's rules. That realization genuinely unsettled him.
He took a steadying breath. "All right. Let's quickly figure out some things. My magic is stronger here, but it's different. It's like this realm plays by a different set of rules than Limbo. So I dare not try a Shadow Gate at this point. While it is my mutant power, its nature has been corrupted by Limbo. And this realm doesn't feel like corruption."
"Once we're done, we have missing children and soldiers to find," he continued. "But we'll need aerial reconnaissance before running off."
Drew listened to Alaric explain the suspected limitations on his powers. Not being able to essentially teleport in to or out of a stronghold was going to make things a lot more difficult. The man's Shadow Gate ability had been exactly what had gotten Angela, Drew's sister, out of a hospital that couldn't do anything for her and to Xavier’s School where she might have a chance to be cured. It was going to be a lot harder to pull off a rescue mission.
Drew approached Alaric. "We get eyes in the sky and a direction of travel, I can scout out a ground route to a likely location to where the children are being held. Possibly slip in and out before anyone can notice. At least get an idea of what we might be up against. Your call boss."
“Does anyone know which way is north?” Kennedy asked, tipping her head back to study the soft green canopy overhead as though the trees might surrender an answer if she stared at them long enough.
“I know we fell through... space? Or whatever that was.” She made a small, uncertain gesture toward the direction of the portal. “But if we don't get our bearings, we're just wandering. Without some sense of direction, we could end up walking in circles forever.”
Drew glanced at Kennedy. She had a very good point. Their technology wasn't working and Alaric had said his magic seemed off. "Some things are probably still operating the same, or at least hopefully. "Our electronics may be out, but magnetism is a relatively universal constant. Anyone have a compass?"
Joey shrugged. "No, but I have something that'll work just as well," he said taking his watch off. He held it flat and spun slightly, aligning it with the sun as best he could. "There," he said, pointing. "That way is south, more or less. Or at least, it would be anywhere in Earth's northern hemisphere."
He paused for a moment, letting his sense of the environment take him again. "I can't fly, but for what it's worth, I don't feel anything other than animals in our immediate area aside from us. There's a stream on the other side of the hill," he added, giving Alaric a strange look. Joey could usually pick his presence out fairly easily, but here he felt rather different. Something for later. "If we accept that way as south, then I do sense some kind of something going on to the east and the southwest."
Maeve followed Joey’s point, then tipped her head back.
The canopy gave her nothing. Too much green. Too many branches knitted together overhead, old and thick and smug about it. They could have been ten yards from a road or ten miles from anything living with a roof and a fire, and from down here there was no telling.
Her fingers curled.
“I can try and get above it,” she said.
It came out quieter than she meant.
Then, because quiet helped no one, she looked at Alaric and added, “Just... don’t let me break me neck if this goes stupid.”
Maeve stepped into a patch of moss clear enough that she wouldn’t kick anyone in the face if Avalon decided to throw her sideways. The earth under her boots was too loud. Soil. Stone. Wet roots, though those were Joey’s sort of thing, not hers. Deeper down, under the hill, there was iron, chalk, darker seams she couldn’t name. All of it sat close to her skin, waiting.
She swallowed and pushed.
The ground pushed back.
Maeve shot upward with a startled, very unheroic yelp.
Loose stones snapped off the forest floor beneath her. Ferns flattened in a rough circle. She jerked sideways, arms flung out, boots kicking at empty air like that would do anything useful. For one awful second she thought she was about to go straight into the branches, then the hillside answered again and shoved her higher.
“Jesus,” she hissed, clenching both hands. “All right, all right, not that much.”
It was nothing like the clean, cold grace the woman in the dark had shown her. No queen in green-gold light. No crown. No lovely sweep of power. This was ugly little jumps and stomach-lurches, with stones wobbling under her like they were as nervous as she was. Every few feet she had to fight herself steady. Every shove upward took something out of her.
But it worked.
Maeve broke through the canopy with leaves whipping against her legs and sunlight flashing hard in her eyes.
The forest opened beneath her.
For a moment, she forgot to breathe.
Avalon went on and on, a great green sea rolling over hills and gullies, trees packed so close together they looked like they had been standing shoulder to shoulder since the world was young. Mist threaded between them in pale ribbons. Birds lifted in startled flurries below her, bright flashes of wing disappearing into the leaves. The clearing where the team stood looked tiny from up here. Too tiny. A handful of people dropped into a place that did not care whether they found their way out again.
Then she saw the mountain.
North.
Maeve’s stomach tightened so hard she nearly lost the hold.
The castle was built into the black shoulder of it, high and far away, with towers like broken teeth biting into the sky. The stone was dark even in daylight, green-black and wet-looking, as if the mountain had grown it there and regretted the decision. No banners she could make out. No smoke. No sign of welcome. Just walls and spires and a feeling in the back of her throat like old stories going quiet before the bad part.
Her hand clenched.
Small girls. Locked doors. Her mam’s voice in her head, warning and warning too late.
Maeve forced air into her lungs.
“North!” she shouted down, voice cracking through the trees. “There’s a castle! Up on a mountain!”
She dipped suddenly, dropped a good few feet, then caught herself with a curse and a violent scatter of pebbles below.
“It’s far!” she called, louder. “Proper far. But it looks...” She stared at it again, jaw tight. “It looks like the kind of place that eats children and leaves the shoes outside.”
Not clever. Not tactical.
True enough.
She twisted south next, too fast, and the world swung sickeningly beneath her. Maeve shut one eye, steadied, then looked again.
“South! Maybe a bit west!” she shouted. “Smoke! I can see smoke!”
There was a break in the forest there, distant but real. A grey thread rose through the trees, thin at first, then spreading in the air. Beneath it she caught the suggestion of rooftops, brown and grey and half-hidden by the green. Not close. Not safe, maybe. But made by hands. People, or something near enough to people to need fire.
“Could be a village!” she called. Her voice was rougher now. “Can’t see much. Roofs, I think. It’s a walk, but it’s there!”
Her arms were starting to tremble.
Maeve turned east, slower this time. The stones below her slipped and bobbed, trying to keep up with whatever she was doing. The pull in her chest sharpened. She was holding herself up by instinct and stubbornness, and the stubbornness was doing most of the work.
“East has a cave!” she shouted. “Big mouth in the hill, dark inside. Closest thing to us!”
She squinted through the canopy, catching the shape between cliffs and mossy stone. The entrance yawned wide and black beneath an overhang, ferns growing thick around it, the trees leaning away just enough to make the dark look deliberate.
“Could camp there!” Maeve called, and hated the words as soon as they left her. “Before night, I mean! Not sayin’ we sit about, just... it’s there!”
West was last.
She turned and almost laughed, though there was no humour in it.
“West has water!”
Water was too small a word. Beyond the forest, white cliffs split open around a waterfall that dropped in silver sheets into a pool bright enough to catch the sky. It was no great giant thing, no Niagara, but it had a strange pull to it all the same. Mist rose from the base in glowing veils, blue-white and soft, and where sunlight touched the spray it broke into colours that did not sit right beside one another. The trees around it were older-looking than the rest, bowed towards the water like people listening at a church door.
“It’s a waterfall!” she shouted. “Silver-looking! Mist everywhere. Pretty, but...” She grimaced, breath scraping. “Pretty in the way that usually means don’t touch it!”
The hold slipped.
Maeve dropped.
Not far, but fast enough to steal the next word out of her mouth. She shoved against the ground in a panic, overcorrected, jerked upward again, then came down through the canopy in a crash of leaves and snapped twigs.
The landing was not graceful.
She hit the moss on both feet, stumbled, went down to one knee and caught herself with a hand against the earth. Stones clattered around her. For a second she stayed there, breathing hard, hair in her face, cheeks flushed with effort and temper.
Then she looked up, eyes already dragging north again.
“Alaric,” she said, voice hoarse now, less a report than something she was trying to hold together, “you’re boss.”
A beat.
“But if I was hidin’ stolen kids in a cursed fairy forest, I’d put them in the scary bastard castle.”
Skjoldr had stayed near Kennedy since they found the others.
Not crowding her. Not hovering in a way that would shame her after the portal had drawn her in. But close enough that if Avalon reached for her again, it would find him in the way first.
He listened while the others spoke, eyes moving over the forest instead of the speakers. The trees were too large. Too old. Their roots pushed through the moss like the backs of sleeping beasts, and every shadow beneath the canopy looked deep enough to hide teeth. Beautiful, aye. But Skjoldr trusted beauty least when it came without effort.
Varðbjörn stood at his side.
And Skjoldr watched him.
On Earth, Varo could bend the world around him. Moss flattened beneath his paws. Doors opened to his shoulder. Men fell beneath his weight when he chose to be solid. But there had always been something half-veiled about him, a cold light at the edges, mist in the seams, as if part of him remained in another place no hand could reach.
Here, that veil had thinned.
Or vanished.
The bear’s breath steamed in the cool forest air. Not pale spirit-smoke, but breath. Real and heavy. Damp leaves clung to the fur along his flank. When he shifted his weight, the moss sank deep beneath him and dark soil squeezed up around his claws. A low branch brushed his shoulder and snapped, not passed through, not shivered aside by ghost-force, but broke with a clean wooden crack.
Skjoldr felt the old hair rise along his arms.
Avalon had not made Varo less strange.
It had made him more true.
Varo lowered his head, scenting the earth, and the sound of it was wet and animal and impossibly alive.
“This place knows us.”
Skjoldr’s hand tightened once around Hreggbrot. “Aye.”
He did not know whether that was welcome or warning.
When Maeve came crashing back through the canopy and dropped to one knee, Skjoldr turned fully toward her. He watched the tremor in her arms, the wildness still clinging to her hair and breath, the way her eyes dragged north before her mouth caught up.
Castle. Village. Cave. Waterfall.
Each direction had its own danger. The cave was closest. The village had smoke, which meant hands and hunger and possible lies. The waterfall sounded like a trap wearing jewels. But the castle...
Skjoldr looked north, though he could not see it through the trees.
Maeve’s last words settled into the moss between them.
“If it looks like a place that eats children,” he said, voice low, “then it likely knows children are what we came for.”
His gaze flicked to Kennedy, quick but deliberate, checking her again without making a show of it. Then he looked to Alaric.
“The cave gives shelter if night catches us. The village gives answers if its people are people.” His thumb shifted against the haft of his hammer. “But stolen children are not kept where roads are kind.”
Varo’s ears angled toward the north, his great body going very still. Fur lifted along his shoulders, not like mist now, but like the hackles of a living beast.
“Stone teeth.”
Skjoldr gave a short nod.
“We mark the way behind us,” he said. “Break branches. Cut signs. Whatever this wood is, we don’t trust it to keep the same face twice.”
Then, quieter, mostly for Kennedy beside him, “Stay close, Ljósmær.”
His eyes stayed on the dark green ahead.
“We’ll need sharp eyes for what comes next.”
Drew quietly checked his gear in the rucksack from his back as he thought about what Maeve had vaguely reported when she ascended on her flying boulder. He walked over to Maeve and took a knee on the ground as he grabbed a small stick. He drew a tiny circle in the ground. He glanced up at Maeve. "Hey Maeve. I want to try and draw a map of what you saw. Land marks, estimated distances, anything that can give us a sense of where we are. Any small detail could be helpful."
Casey suddenly remembered. "Hey I have these orange flag things that can be tied to branches, and I do have an actual compass if we need somewhere. Plus water bottles we can refill at the waterfall, fire starters. All stuff I would normally take on a Search and rescue mission. Here, Drew, I have a waterproof pad and oil pencil." Offering it to Drew.
Maeve watched Casey produce the waterproof pad and oil pencil like he had been waiting his whole life for someone to ask.
For a second she just blinked at him, still flushed from the landing, hair full of leaves and one hand braced against her knee. The orange flags, the compass, the fire starters, the water bottles. All of it was painfully useful.
“Of course you’ve got all that,” she said, breathless rather than sharp. “You’re like a rescue cupboard with legs.”
She crouched stiffly beside Drew, looking at the clean pad in his hands. Her eyes kept pulling north, and she had to make herself focus on the map instead.
“Still needed to get above the trees,” she said. “Compass doesn’t see through a forest.”
With two fingers, she marked the directions lightly in the air over the page rather than smudging it.
“Castle north. Farthest by a lot. Village south, maybe south-west. Smoke and roofs, so at least someone’s makin’ fire. Cave east, closest shelter. Waterfall west, silver and strange.”
That was the neat version. The one that did not say her skin had gone cold at the sight of the castle. The one that did not say she had wanted to fly straight at it until her body gave out.
Maeve sat back on her heels, breathing through the ache in her ribs.
“Distances are guesswork,” she added. “I wasn’t exactly floatin’ about with a ruler. Castle could be hours. Could be a day if this place decides to be a pain about it.”
Her gaze flicked to Casey, then away again.
“If you can get above the canopy proper, you’ll do better than me. You actually fly.” A faint, tired look crossed her face. “I’m more... bein’ thrown up by the hill and tryin’ to negotiate before it changes its mind.”
She looked at the orange flags next.
“They’re good,” she said, quieter. “We should mark where we go. I don’t trust this forest not to move when our backs are turned.”
Alaric nodded to Joey, "Good thinking. I have a feeling we're going to need more out-of-the-box thinking while we're here. Your being in tune like this may prove more valuable than any of us realize."
"So now we have North and a general lay of our surroundings," he said to the rest of the group. "But we don't have a lot of daylight left for long-distance walking. I'd rather not get caught in an unknown, living, and quite possibly, changing realm at night. With that said, we should stay together," he paused and looked at Drew, "and make for the cave before nightfall... and whatever darkness roams this realm at that time. We can rest the night, rotate a watch, and have a full day ahead of us. The more time we spend here, the more daylight we waste."
He looked to the giant of a man and his bear. "Skjoldr has the right idea. Mark our trail as we go, each in your own distinctive way. If this forest changes as Maeve has pointed out, we need to know it was us specifically that made the marks. Casey's brightly colored flags would make a nice addition to this. Grab whatever you need." Alaric looked to Maeve and nodded. He knew all too well how living realms were unpredictable. But he knew nothing of this one.
"While the children are a priority, we should also remember the S.H.I.E.L.D team members that went through. If they're here and still alive, it's possible some are in the village. Any help or information we can gain from them would not go amiss. Intelligence is our biggest ally at this point. And a quick flight would help solidify our direction.
Alaric was making the best decision that he could with the information he had. "Don't ignore your instincts in a place built on ancient magic. But don't follow your emotions. There is a difference."
Drew walked over to Alaric and handed him the rough map he'd drawn from Maeve's description of the surrounding area. "You say don't ignore our instincts. I gotta say that I think the village is our best bet. First we can find shelter, food and fresh water. No community would survive without those things. Cave will give us shelter, but there is no guarantee we'll find food or water there. There might be something dangerous living in the cave. Not sure I want to go toe to toe with a bear or God knows a dragon. You said we need more information. The villagers may have the information we need or, if SHIELD agents are there, we also find allies. If you think the cave is the best first move then cool. Send me and one other to check out the village. See if we can find out anything useful."
“I’ll go,” offered Madi, finally finding a place she could be helpful. “In case things go sideways,” she added, but she hoped they wouldn’t. She would hate to have to make that sort of first impression on this place.
“We stick together, like Alaric said.” Kennedy shifted the uncomfortable pack higher on her shoulder, trying to settle its weight. “It'll be dark soon. We have enough food and water for several days, so there's no reason to rush. We'll have the entire day tomorrow to explore, and we can do it carefully instead of stumbling around unfamiliar terrain at night.”
She glanced toward the direction of the distant village. “For all we know, the people there could be friendly... or they could be hostile. They might not even be human. Charging in now, when we're uncertain and losing daylight, just means we'd be making first contact at our worst.”
“And if we're actually mapping and marking this place as we go, that's going to slow us down even more.” She let out a weary sigh, shifting her pack again. Camping outdoors ranked somewhere between miserable and intolerable in her opinion, but even she recognized when it was the smarter option. “We still need to find a defensible campsite, gather firewood, and make sure everyone has eaten and rested. Splitting up and waiting for you guys to come back or even worse, if you don’t, has the potential to harm the entire team and ruin our mission. I'd rather face whatever's out there tomorrow with a clear head than go tonight just because we were too impatient.”
Drew was thankful for Madi's support, but Kennedy’s argument was well thought out and sound. He nodded once to Kennedy and turned back to Alaric. "Okay. Cave first." He looked and scanned his eyes back and forth in a 60 degree arc before turning back to Alaric. "I can scout ahead, report anything of note in our direction of travel. Say one mile to each side and one mile to our front." He pulled a lanyard from underneath his shirt that had a whistle attached to it. "I can signal back with this at intervals for an all clear or to let you know if there's any trouble ahead."
"If this were Earth, I'd consider it," said Alaric. "But we've already seen how deceptive and hostile this realm is in promising pretties and making you feel happy, then dropping you from the sky to your death. We're simply not in a position to divide our strength at this moment. Until we understand how this realm works, nobody scouts alone."
He hoisted a pack onto his own shoulders and bounced it to settle it. "Once we're at the cave, you can scout the perimeter for security purposes... with a partner. I'd rather whatever's lurking out there meet two X-Men instead of one. Now, as Kennedy pointed out, we're losing daylight."
Joey followed along with Alaric and Kennedy. While he could see Drew's point, daylight was waning and he didn't want to be about in the dark. He might be able to shift forms and compensate for not being able to see, but that didn't help anyone else, and he got the distinct feeling it was probably better not to use artificial light. "Cave first makes sense," he said, adjusting the strap of his pack across his shoulder and around his waste. "I ain't saying I love it, mind, since caves hare real good at bein' home to things that object to sharin' but based on what we can see of the sun, I reckon we have an hour or two tops before it's dark enough walking through a forest becomes real dumb."
He paused for a second. "And let's not talk about firewood again," he added, giving the trees a suspicious look. "I felt a less-than-friendly tremor at that one. Maybe deadfall, but I reckon' negotiatin' lumber rights with a forest that can hear us ain't likely to end well."
He rubbed his thumb once over the edge of his watch before putting it back on.
“When we get nearer, I should be able to get a better read on it. Whether anything’s inside, whether animals are avoidin’ it, whether there’s water nearby, that sort of thing.” A beat. “Assumin’ Avalon ain’t lyin’ through the squirrels, anyhow.”
That last part came lighter than he felt it.
Joey looked east again, then let his senses brush carefully outward without leaning too hard into the welcome underneath the moss and roots. The whole place still felt too clear, too eager to answer. Like pressing your ear to the ground and having the ground press back.
He did not like how much he liked it. He put his head down lightly, "Lord," he murmured lightly and quietly. "Guide our feet on the right path, keep the children breathin', and if this place whispers sweet venom, help me to remember the river don't love fools just because it let's 'em drown."
The journey to the cave proved far longer and more grueling than any of them had anticipated. It wasn't simply that the terrain was difficult, it was as though the forest itself resisted every step they took. Slick moss coated uneven stones, thick vines tangled around their legs, and thorny brambles clawed at clothing and exposed skin. Every branch they snapped or fern they pushed aside to clear a path seemed to provoke the woods into presenting an even greater obstacle. It was as if the forest remembered every wound inflicted upon it and answered each one in kind.
Before long, an unsettling realization settled over the group, no one could have crossed this wilderness alone and expected to survive, the forest was simply too merciless. If the missing S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers had entered these woods without guidance, the land itself could have easily claimed them long before any monster or enemy had the chance. More curious still, the kidnapped children must have reached the other side somehow. They hadn't wandered through this place unaided, someone had escorted them.
By the time they emerged into the clearing, dusk had begun to settle over Avalon. The jagged slate beneath their boots and the quiet murmur of a slow moving creek were almost welcome sights after hours of suffocating greenery that had seemed intent on swallowing them whole, but the relief was short-lived.
The cave waiting before them possessed a menace all its own. Its black mouth yawned open beneath the fading light, cold air spilling from the darkness beyond. It felt ancient and older than the forest itself, as though countless secrets had been buried within its winding passages, waiting patiently for the next souls foolish enough to disturb them.
Maeve said very little on the way to the cave.
By the time they broke out of the forest and into the clearing, she was scratched, damp with sweat, and carrying a tiredness that sat deeper than sore muscles. The woods had fought them for every yard. Not loudly, not with claws or teeth, but with spite. Vines catching at ankles, brambles dragging at sleeves, roots turning underfoot just when you thought you had your balance. It left a bad taste in her mouth. If grown people trained for this sort of thing had struggled that much, then children had not crossed this place alone. That much felt certain. Someone had brought them through. Someone had known the way.
The cave didn’t make her feel better.
It sat there beneath the fading light with its mouth open black and wide, the stream slipping out from it as if the hill itself had split and started bleeding cold water. The air coming off it was sharp enough to raise gooseflesh on her arms. Maeve stood still for a second, looking at the stone around the entrance, the way it hunched over the dark like something old stooping to listen.
Every door is a choice, little earth-heart. Some swallow. Some keep. Some teach.
Her jaw tightened. Maeve stepped closer anyway, then lifted a hand and set her palm against the rock just beside the mouth of the cave. The stone was cold, but not dead-cold. Old. Deep. She shut her eyes for a moment and let herself feel for it properly, not reaching wildly, just listening the way Jean had told her to listen inward. The cave answered in its own way. Not with words. With weight. With hollowness. She felt the shape of it sinking back and down into the hill, twisting away beyond what she could map cleanly, water threading through the lower stone, narrow places and wider chambers, a depth that made her stomach pull a little. It went far. Farther than she liked. Older than the trees behind them, too. Not made, maybe, but used. Known.
Maeve opened her eyes and drew her hand back slowly. “It’s deep,” she said, voice low and rough with tiredness. “Proper deep. Water runs through it, further in. More than one chamber, I think.” She glanced into the dark again, then over at Alaric and the others. “I can’t tell if there’s anything alive in there. Not like that. Just...” She hesitated, searching for words that didn’t make her sound touched. “It feels old. Older than the forest. Like this place was here first and everything else grew around it after.”
Go on, then. Make your bed at the threshold. Pretend the hill does not know my name.
Maeve ignored that, or tried to. Her eyes dragged once towards the cave’s dark mouth and then away again. “If we’re stoppin’ here, we stop smart,” she said, quieter now, more to the group than anyone in particular. “I don’t trust this place just because it hasn’t tried to bite us yet.”
Joey moved beside Maeve. "You feel it too, don't you?" he asked quietly. His own senses were giving him all sorts of warning bells. Overlapping ones at that. The first thing that had hit him was soft, sweet, and clean, like his mother's fresh laundry from the line. But under it was another as well, a feeling like crinkled old parchment or leave with a tinge of metal. Metallic smells and feelings were bad signs in the wild. That often meant blood. "Something isn't right here."
Maeve kept her palm against the stone, listening past the cold and the running water. At first she thought the faint taps were droplets somewhere deeper in, but they came too regularly. Too many of them. Tiny impacts skittered across the cave walls, the roof, the floor, stopping and starting in quick little bursts.
“Aye,” she said quietly, eyes staying on the dark. “There’s movement in there. Lots of it. Small things, all over the stone.” Her fingers pressed harder as something heavier shifted far below, slow enough to make the rock carry its weight. Maeve’s face tightened. “And somethin’ bigger. Much bigger.” She glanced at Joey. “You’re right. We shouldn’t go wanderin’.”
Drew was glad to finally be free of the forest. It heavy brush between the tall trees had been difficult to travel through with clear areas being few and, for the most part, far between. It had made him mildly claustrophobic and had made use of his super speed nearly impossible. He cast a sigh of relief when the had broken free of the thick flora. He shook his head once he spotted the cave. He noted the moisture clinging to the rocky area. Super speed would be next to useless for exploring the cave.
Drew looked about and determined the clear area they had did provide him with enough clearance to use his abilities to collect wood along the perimeter of the forest though. He called out to Alaric. "Hey, you want me to start collecting firewood and get a firepit set up?" It was one task he could use his abilities for.
Casey dropped his ruck on the floor of the cave and opened the bag, pulling out a flashlight and checking it. "damn it, I just put fresh batteries in this." Putting it to the side, he pulled out a small camp stove and attached the tank. "We can use this to cook and the main fire for light. I have about 6 days of meals for us and it can stretch to 10 if we ration. I have energy bars as well." He said, setting out the brown bags containing the meals, and yes, everything but the damn kitchen sink."
Joey turned to the other boys. "Drew, Casey, be careful. Something ain't right here. This cave's old, ancient, and I can't sense nothin' inside it. That ain't reassurin' since there oughtta be crickets or somethin' at least I can pick up on. Yunno, insects and all. And it don't smell right."
"I think that's a good idea," Alaric said to Drew. "But be careful and heed Joey's warning." He added that last phrase with a firm tone to his voice. He had told everyone to trust their instincts, but that meant that he also had to trust their instincts as well.
While everyone else was worrying about monsters, caves, and keeping watch, Hayden knelt beside the stream and dipped her fingers into the current. The water was cool and crystal clear as it flowed between her fingers. Then it surprised her as it gathered around her fingers without hesitation. She'd hardly thought the instruction for doing so.
But there was something else...it felt different. Cleaner. Lighter. She couldn't explain it, but maybe it was just the lack of impurities, resistance, hidden grit, or chemicals she'd unconsciously grown to ignore back home. Whatever the reason, guiding it took almost no effort at all. And it made her smile.
To no one in particular, she said, "The water feels... happy. Whole? Pure? Maybe all of the above."
Maeve crouched beside the patch Drew had chosen and held one hand over the ground. Loose stones shifted from the edge of the clearing, scraping through the dirt until they settled into a rough ring around the firepit. One rolled in too fast and clipped another with a hard crack.
“Close enough,” she muttered, nudging it back into place with two fingers.
Skjoldr emerged from the forest scratched and weary, but the cave stopped him before relief could settle in.
It was too still. Caves should have carried signs of life: insects beneath loose stone, nesting birds, the smell of animals sheltering from the dark. This one breathed cold air over the clearing and offered nothing back.
He hooked Hreggbrot securely onto his belt and stayed close to Kennedy while he studied the entrance. Nearby, Varo padded across the slate with none of his usual haze. Each footfall carried weight. Damp grit caught between his claws, and droplets clung to the thick white fur beneath his jaw. Avalon had not merely made him solid when he chose to be. Here, solidity seemed to be his natural state.
The bear lowered his head towards the darkness.
“Many small feet. One deep weight.”
“That agrees with what Maeve felt,” Skjoldr said. His eyes remained on the cave. “Whatever is inside already knows this place better than we do.”
Varo stepped nearer, sniffed once, then drew back. The fur along his shoulders lifted.
“Bad den.”
“Then we sleep outside its teeth.”
Skjoldr looked over the clearing, measuring the creek, the open ground and the narrowing light. He pointed towards a patch of stone beyond the cave’s direct mouth.
“Camp there. One watch towards the forest and another towards the cave. No one enters alone, and no one follows a voice into the dark.”
His hand rested briefly on Hreggbrot’s haft at his hip, as if to steady the resolve behind his words.
“Why do I have the feeling that it doesn't matter where we go, something dangerous is always going to be waiting to kill us?” Kennedy grumbled as she shrugged off her backpack and let it fall beside the creek. She dropped her quiver next to it before settling onto a smooth boulder with a weary, sullen sigh. “This is going to be the Savage Land all over again, at least it isn't unbearably hot this time.”
She brushed dried mud and clinging leaves from her pants, then noticed a fern frond caught beneath the sole of her boot. Leaning forward, Kennedy reached down to pull it free and audibly gasped at what she had discovered. Among the pebbles scattered across the shallow creek bed lay a ragged scrap of dark fabric. "...Guys."
Kennedy stooped to pick it up, her expression hardening as she turned it over in her hands. Embroidered onto the torn patch was the unmistakable head and outstretched wing of a stylized eagle, it was the same S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia that had been stamped across every tent, uniform, and vehicle surrounding the Avalon portal back on Earth.
"I think we just found out what happened to the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents." She held the torn patch up for the rest of the team to see. "It looks like they went into that cave. Whether they did so willingly... or not..." Kennedy glanced toward the dark cave mouth as the implication settled over the group. "...that's still an open question."
Alaric's shoulders fell slightly under that weight. If the soldiers, then...the children? A firey steel settled in his corrupted soul. "I don't like this. We need to be extra careful and trust only each other." He looked over to Hayden, still at the stream. "Not even the pure and happy water." Alaric walked over to Skjoldr and clapped the warrior on the shoulder. "I'm not surprised you would fall into setting the watch. I'll take the first one towards the cave once we're all settled."
Hayden wrinkled her nose at Alaric, but nodded. It went right along with w
hat was said in the briefing about trusting nothing here.
Drew got the fire going in the pit. He glanced at Maeve next to him. "Are there any legends about Avalon you know about. Something that might give us a starting point to investigate. Anything at all could be helpful. No matter how small or insignificant it might seem to you."
“We all know of an Avalon…” Kennedy interjected as she unbraided her golden hair, and began finger combing it into neat waves. The bookish young woman had spent more time buried in libraries than most, and her love of history and classic literature was no secret.
“It’s a mystical island from Arthurian legend, a hidden realm of enchantment and powerful magic. It was where the sword Excalibur was forged and where King Arthur was taken after his final battle. The enchantress Morgan le Fay, despite her long and complicated rivalry with Arthur, carried him there in the hope of healing him. After his death, she sealed Avalon behind an impenetrable veil. According to the legends, when Avalon disappeared from the mortal world, the magic that flowed from it vanished from the British Isles as well.”
“It’s strange,” Kennedy admitted quietly as her blue eyes drifted across the ancient forest before settling on the dark cave looming in the shadows. “Part of me still wants to dismiss all of this as folklore, but we've already learned that vampires exist, and there are dinosaurs hidden in Antarctica. Maybe myths are just history that's been distorted by time. If that's true…” Her gaze swept across the group before returning to the wilderness ahead. “...then how much of the old stories do we assume are fiction simply because we haven't found the truth behind them yet?”
Drew looked over to Kennedy as she spoke. "I'm not really up on Arthurian legend. Science, technology, engineering and mathematics has been my primary area of study." He glanced around. "Magical realms isn't a discipline of study I've ever really gotten into. I'm just wondering what we might find ourselves up against here. Do we have to worry about dragons, trolls, witches and wzards."
He gestured in Kennedy's direction and then looked at the cave entrance. "We are going to need to search the cave for the missing SHIELD agent's if the patches you found are any indication."
Alaric caught Maeve's eyes and dipped his head, an apologetic look on his face. Then he turned to the team and snapped his fingers. The sound shouldn't have echoed, but it did. From the fire pit, blood-red flames roared upward to the same height as Alaric. The crimson light washed over the slate beneath their feet until it resembled rivers of lava. Shadows leapt behind the trees in the forest around them.
His eyes burned yellow and his voice dropped into the rough, resonant growl that always seemed older than the man himself. As he spoke, his skin reflected spots of iridescence... which had never happened before. "If dragons and sorcerers cause great fear then here me. Night falls. No one enters that cave until sunrise."
As his eyes, voice, and skin returned to normal, the fire did as well. "Intelligence gathered at the wrong time can cost more than it's worth," he said in his normal voice.
Maeve watched Alaric’s fire settle, though the red still seemed caught behind her eyes. She saw the apology when he looked at her and gave him a small shake of the head. It wasn’t his fault. Not really.
“Kennedy’s not wrong,” she said after a bit. “That’s the book one.”
She sat near the fire with her arms around her knees, looking more at the flames than anyone else. The cave breathed cold air at her back.
“But where I’m from, Avalon wasn’t Arthur’s first. That’s just what happens, isn’t it? Some king turns up and suddenly the whole place belongs in his story.” She nudged a bit of slate with her boot. “Mam called it Inis Afallach sometimes. The island of apples. Only it wasn’t always an island. Sometimes it was behind mist. Sometimes it was under a hill. Sometimes you found a door where there hadn’t been one before, and that was usually when you were meant to turn round and mind your own business.”
Her eyes moved briefly towards the trees.
“She said old things went there when people stopped rememberin’ them right. Gods. Queens. The Fair Folk. All that. Time goes strange, roads move, and if someone calls your name from somewhere dark, you don’t answer. Even if they sound like someone you know.” Maeve paused, rubbing her thumb over one knuckle. “Especially then.”
Drew’s questions about dragons and witches earned a faint pull at the corner of her mouth.
“Dragons would nearly be easier. Big thing, fire, teeth. Fair enough. You know it wants to eat you.” She looked towards the cave. “It’s the nice ones Mam warned about. The ones that smile and offer you things. Food, help, wishes, whatever. They never tell you what it costs till after.”
Your mother mistook fear for wisdom.
Maeve’s face tightened, though she kept her eyes on the fire.
“And Morgan wasn’t just some wicked witch in the stories at home,” she went on. “She healed people. Hid them. Gave them what they wanted. Or what she said they wanted.” Her voice went quieter. “Mam said that was why she was dangerous. Anyone can run from a monster. Harder to run when it’s bein’ kind to you.”
She picked up the bit of slate and tossed it into the firepit.
“Some stories stayed out of books on purpose,” Maeve said. “You write a thing down, anyone can find it. The bad ones got told at home, doors shut, and not after midnight if Mam had anything to say about it.”
Her gaze lifted towards the black mouth of the cave.
“So aye. Maybe there’s dragons. Maybe worse.” A beat. “But I’d worry more about whatever comes up smilin’.”
Drew gave a frustrated poke of the fire with a stick and looked all around. He stared at the cave for a moment and sighed heavily. "Great. If a band of orcs don't get us, then a grandma with a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a warm smile probably will." He brought his gaze back to the fire and gave it another angry poke with the stick.
Drew’s thoughts drifted to Angela in stasis pod lined up along a wall, in a state near death. 'She doesn't even have an active mutant power. It should be me in that coffin. Not her.' He looked at the forest, nearly invisible in the darkness. It had been a difficult trek through with overgrown brush, damp moss and patches of uneven ground that prevented his use of speed to scout a route to this cave. There was the cave itself. Moisture at the entrance indicating the interior would be a slick and hazardous for anything other than a slow and careful exploration. He felt all but useless on this mission.
Drew rose with a restlessness born of frustration, anger and a feeling of helplessness. He looked at the nearby woodpile. "We need more wood to keep the fire going through the night. I will stay within earshot." He pulled the whistle from around his neck and handed it to Maeve without another word and started for the treeline to find more fuel for the fire. His thoughts now as dark as the interior of the cave.
Joey stared after Drew for half a second, expression somewhere between amused and affronted. Then he looked at the whistle in Maeve's hand and back toward's Drew's shape again. "Well," he muttered, "Ain't that adorable. Wanderin' off into the murder trees alone is a plan." He shook his head, the next line coming out with more exasperation than cruelty "Man may be too dumb to live." He raised his voice, "Deadfall only. I reckon the forest ain't gonna love it if you start commitin' recreational tree crime, and stay in sight."
After Maeve's warning about not answering if something in the dark calls your name, a cold chill ran over Hayden. A new world filled with nothing familiar and yet something still might know her name. She took that seriously. Not because she believed everything she heard, but because she trusted Maeve. She then settled herself nearer the fire.
"Maybe, in general, stories don't last because every detail's true. Maybe they last because somebody saw something they couldn't explain. People used to laugh at stories about giant squid, too. Sailors swore they'd seen monsters dragging ships beneath the waves." She smiled softly. "Turns out giant squid were real. We just hadn't found one yet."
"Maybe every generation calls the last one superstitious until it discovers they were describing something real all along. I used to think that vampires were just stories." She shrugged.
Hayden glanced toward the cave. "Maybe myths aren't stories," she said. "Maybe they're memories."
“Well, I'm sure this place is going to educate us one way or another.” Kennedy let her gaze wander over the forest surrounding them before looking up at a sky that had deepened into a rich twilight violet. The first stars had begun to emerge but they weren't where they should have been. Their unfamiliar arrangement served as another quiet reminder that they were very far from home.
There was still plenty of work to do around the camp. The fire needed tending, dinner had to be prepared, and sleeping arrangements still needed to be sorted out. Under normal circumstances, none of it would have seemed particularly difficult but after everything that had happened even the simplest tasks felt overwhelming to Kennedy.
“I'll keep watch with you,” Kennedy offered, stepping over to stand beside Skjoldr. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth that was more self deprecating than cheerful. “Besides, nobody wants me near dinner, I can burn ice.”
Casey frowned as he repacked the gear in the bag and moved to the outer half of the cave on the stone as Skjoldr suggested. He moved and started to set up the camp stove and prep to cook one of the ready meals. "Can someone get me some water from the stream, please?" he asked as he lit the camp stove and was opening the heavy brown bags.
When Casey asked for water, Joey moved to crouch beside him. He looked at Alaric, "Before we start makin' mystery soup, Alaric, can you confirm the water ain't subject to witchcraft, curses, seductive fae glamour, or whatever other category of 'happy little stream that may or may not be tryin' to get us killed' falls within your knowledge?"
He shrugged started rummaging through his pack with the particular impatience of someone who packed usefully and now resented being vindicated. Out came a slightly battered Dutch oven with a nested cooking pot, a smaller pan, and a bundle of utensils wrapped in a faded cloth. He passed them over, "Cooking gear here," he said. "I got the stuff to make some cornbread, fry bread, beans, and a few other things as well dependin' on what you put in your bags as well."
Alaric glanced toward the stream, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the water. For a moment, he was silent, as if listening for something beyond what normal senses could detect. He crouched briefly, letting it run through his fingers.
Glowing runes appeared on the back of his hand as violet energy encircled his wrist. It ran down his fingers in tendrils and into the water, searching. Satisfied, he stopped his investigation and looked to Joey.
"Fascinatingly enough, Joey, the water does not appear to be cursed, enchanted, possessed, or attempting to lure us into an ancient bargain with something that has too many teeth."
A faint smirk crossed his face.
"So yes. Drink the water. Cook with the water. But if it starts whispering your name, grows a face, or offers you eternal youth in exchange for your soul… you know, don't." His dark humor not quite at its best, but almost there.
He paused after rummaging for another few seconds and took out another bag, this one in cloth with a beaded design on it. He looked at Maeve, "Maeve," he said, getting her attention before tossing it at her. "White cornmeal and salt. Nana'd defy Satan hisself to come haunt me if I didn't bring it. Can you make a circle around the cookin' area and the sleepin' space? I ain't pretendin' to know what use it is here, but back home cornmeal rejects impurity of the soul, and salt's a pretty universal purifier. Reckon right now any tradition with 'you stay over there' in language older than common sense's worth considerin'."
Maeve caught the cloth bag against her chest, nearly dropping Drew’s whistle in the process. She gave Joey a look at the mention of his nana haunting him, but there was no real argument in it.
“Aye, all right. Better than hopin’ the cave’s in a friendly mood.”
She crouched and drew a shallow line through the earth with two fingers. Small stones shifted aside as she worked her way around the cooking area first, then widened the circle to take in where they would sleep. Maeve followed the groove with cornmeal and salt, careful not to leave any gaps.
“There,” she said, brushing the dust from her hands. “Anything wicked gets through that, it can explain itself to your nana.”
As the last traces of daylight faded and the forest disappeared beneath a blanket of darkness, the team settled around the campfire and agreed to keep a constant watch throughout the night. In rotating shifts, they would stand guard over both the cave entrance and the surrounding woods, ensuring that no one or any thing, could approach unnoticed while the rest of the group rested.
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