Khaos walked into the terrifying black tear. Silas swallowed his fear and followed the boy into the void. The tear sealed shut behind them, leaving the courtyard in total silence.
The transition was instantaneous.
Khaos stepped out of the void. His boots hit soft, damp earth. The humid scent of wet pine needles immediately filled his lungs. He looked up and saw real, grey storm clouds blocking the sun.
"We are here," Khaos said, his voice trembling with a strange, unfamiliar excitement. "We are standing on the ridge. The village is just down the hill."
Silas stepped out behind him. The blind monk immediately gripped his wooden staff with both hands. His face turned completely pale.
"Khaos," Silas gasped, his raspy voice breaking.
"Come on, old man," Khaos urged, walking eagerly down the muddy path. "I cannot wait to see my father's face. He is going to be so proud. I will show him how I can turn a tree into glass."
