I didn’t hesitate. I lunged for the altar, my fingers white-knuckled, almost a pale blue from the cold, as I clutched the key in my hand. I shoved it into the lock.
The sound wasn’t a click, but a deep, tectonic grind. As I turned it, the air above the altar didn’t just move — it tore. A jagged rift of incandescent white light split the sky, spilling a warmth that smelled like fresh rain and spring flowers. This wasn’t just a “bridge,” it was a doorway into the mountain’s soul.
“Kaspar! It’s opening!” I cried. My hair whipped wildly around my face as I gripped the altar. I felt a pull, like a magnet drawing me in. I reached back for him, my hand outstretched when a figure appeared behind him.
“Sloane!”
My heart plummeted. It wasn’t a monster or a shadow. It was a man driven by the m
