Chapter 31 — Openings

  Aethyrion learned to recognize the moment before it happened.

  Not a warning—more like a shift in pressure. The air thickened slightly, sound dulling as if wrapped in cloth. Every time, the world hesitated first.

  He stopped walking.

  The road ahead blurred, not fading but folding. Space bent inward, lines curving toward a point that didn’t exist a second earlier. A thin seam appeared, vertical and dark, cutting cleanly through the air like a wound that hadn’t started bleeding yet.

  The portal opened silently.

  It wasn’t light or shadow inside it. Just depth. Distance stacked on itself, layered too tightly to see through.

  Aethyrion watched it for a moment.

  Then he stepped through.

  The sensation wasn’t movement—it was rearrangement. His weight vanished, returned, then vanished again. For a heartbeat, he existed in more than one place, and then the world chose one.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He emerged onto a different road.

  The sky was overcast here, heavy clouds pressing low against jagged hills. The air smelled sharper. Colder. He adjusted automatically, armor shifting beneath his clothes to regulate temperature without asking.

  Behind him, the portal sealed itself.

  No flash. No sound. Just gone.

  Aethyrion exhaled slowly.

  He hadn’t always been able to do this.

  At first, the portals appeared randomly—fractures he stumbled into, tears that dragged him along whether he wanted to go or not. Over time, they stopped surprising him. The shard—still silent, still unseen—had taught him without words.

  He couldn’t choose destinations.

  Not precisely.

  But he could feel direction.

  He walked again, letting the sense guide him. The ground crunched beneath his boots, rocks shifting in patterns that felt familiar even though he’d never been here before.

  Halfway down the path, he noticed something strange.

  The portal marks.

  Faint distortions lingered where he’d passed—barely visible ripples in the air that faded after a few seconds. Like reality taking a moment to stitch itself closed.

  Someone could follow those.

  The thought settled uncomfortably in his chest.

  He opened another portal.

  This one resisted.

  The air fought back, tightening as if reluctant to part. Aethyrion braced himself, placing a hand against the forming seam. The armor responded, reinforcing his grip—not pushing harder, but aligning.

  The portal opened.

  Wider this time.

  He stepped through without hesitation.

  When he emerged, he froze.

  The city before him was alive—bright lights, layered structures, movement everywhere. Too much movement. People crossing paths in ways that felt… important. Threads brushing past each other, weaving something invisible between them.

  The portal closed behind him.

  Aethyrion stood still, heart steady, senses sharp.

  Somewhere in this city—close enough that he could feel the pressure building again—someone existed who made the air feel heavy in a different way.

  Not like a fracture.

  Like a counterweight.

  He adjusted his grip on his helmet and blended into the crowd.

  The portals had brought him here for a reason.

  He didn’t know it yet.

  But the story was getting closer to deciding who it belonged to.