A sudden shimmer split the air before them — a tall green door etched with shifting runes forcing itself into existence. Its surface rippled like liquid glass, but beyond it lay only a blurred haze, the other side obscured.
The Septets tensed. None moved at first, until Remiel stepped forward, his crimson gaze narrowing. “Looks like the Forger’s way of saying move along.”
Nyxira fell in stride beside him, tall and poised, her porcelain skin catching the pale desert glow. Scylla and Mildred exchanged glances, their eyes flicking — not at the door, but at Nyxira’s commanding frame beside Remiel. Envy stirred quietly in their expressions, though neither voiced it.
One by one, the Septets approached. The green surface rippled as each passed through, dissolving them into light.
They stepped
