The portal spat them out onto a midnight shore in Kretia, where the sea itself burned with fox-fire and the moon hung low and red like a wound.
They had thirty-three minutes before Agnetha's mages tracked the lattice's signature across two countries. Thirty-three minutes to reach Laken's ancestral glacier, harvest the final shard of Isolde's tear, and return before the second trial door sealed forever.
Wade hit the black sand first, phoenix brand blazing so bright it lit the beach like daylight. The others followed in a staggered line: Harold human but barefoot, feeling every grain like a penitent; Luca clutching the frozen locket from the Vale family like a live grenade; Reed and Laken hand in hand, frost and dragon-stone leaving twin trails that steamed and smoked.
The Kretian air tas
