Stupid summer job. Stupid manager. Why did Kristy have to quit? Things had been so good before she left, then Darren had taken over.

  Ever since he’d become manager, the place had gone from mildly chaotic to full-blown nightmare. He’d post the schedule at the last possible minute, cut hours if he didn’t “like your attitude,” and somehow always managed to schedule himself for the cushy shifts where no one tipped poorly. I could handle the constant smell of fryer oil, the blisters from cheap non-slip shoes, even the customers who thought I was their personal servant, but Darren was another story.

  Yesterday he’d “accidentally” spilled an entire tray of sodas near the register and told me to clean it up in front of customers. When I pointed out that he’d done it, he gave me that smug little shrug and said, “That’s the job, sweetheart.” That was the moment something inside me snapped.

  So today, when he told me I’d have to stay another four hours to cover for someone who’d quit mid-shift, I didn’t even argue. I took off my apron, handed it to him, and said, “Guess you’ll have to cover it yourself.” Then I walked out. Just like that.

  Maybe it wasn’t smart. Maybe I should have had a new job first, but I’d just make it work. I was still living at home with Mom. Rent in San Diego was a nightmare, but college wasn’t cheap either, and I needed that job to fund my next semester at the community college.

  I knew exactly what look Mom would give me when she got back. That “I understand, but I’m still disappointed in you” look that I couldn’t stand. That’s what led me to the gloomy bus stop near the hiking trails for Torrey Pines Park.

  Maybe I was running away from my problems. Maybe I didn’t care. The switchbacks of the trail down to the beach at least didn’t judge me or treat me like some servant like Darren, and the mist, though annoying, was sort of calming. Plus, it kept people off the beach for the most part.

  Nice weather meant people. Or worse, tourists. Soon they’d be back. The beach would be sunny and loaded with people, but it was May now, the middle of the season that I personally called “fog”, but most people called “May Gray, June Gloom” in San Diego. Maybe the mist would burn off this afternoon, but for now, the ocean was draped in sheets of gray like a protective blanket.

  I reached the beach, the rolling waves finally visible, and trudged across the sand, yanking my shoes off to wade to the other side of an inlet. Fortunately, it was low tide. I hated going through the portal wet. The cave appeared in view, just a dark smudge on the cliffs at first. A soda can now decorated the sand near the entrance.

  Ugh. If this had turned into a make-out spot again, I was going to scream. It wasn’t even a real cave, just a dramatic alcove pretending to be one.

  I made it to the entrance and peeked inside. No people, just water beaded along the walls, dripping into the side, drawing a sort of line at the entrance. I drew a relieved breath. I didn’t want to deal with people now. Well, maybe just one person, but he might not even be home.

  My father wasn’t expecting me, but that didn’t matter. His house would be there, whether he was or not. And if he wasn’t there… well, then I’d just avoid a scolding about using the portal to escape my problems. Better, anyway.

  I shrugged off the jacket and pulled on the cloak I kept stuffed in the bottom of my backpack. Then, I pulled out a lancing device out of my pocket, the kind doctors used for blood tests, and pricked my forefinger. A red drop appeared. The portal key. A blood key.

  I pressed my finger lightly against the wall. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, golden sparks appeared and shifted into an almost swirling pattern until the wall of the cave was a haze of gold.

  For a heartbeat, I hesitated. The golden haze shimmered like liquid light, pulsing softly, as if waiting for me to decide whether I really meant it. But I did, especially today. I couldn’t deal with this right now, so I took a deep breath and stepped forward.

  The world folded. That’s the only way I can describe it. Like being tugged inside out, all at once. The sound of crashing waves was slowly replaced by a low hum that I felt more in my bones than in my ears. Then, just as suddenly, it was over.

  I stumbled out into the cool, damp air. The cave was smaller on this side, slick with moss instead of salt, the glow of the portal fading behind me until it was just an ordinary stone wall again. The smell hit me next: earth, pine, and that faint metallic scent that always hung in the forests of Kirath, like rain and old magic had founded their own perfume brand.

  Outside, sunlight spilled through the canopy in fractured beams. The forest floor glistened with dew, ferns curling along the edges of the path. Birds called from somewhere above. Not the seagulls or pelicans of San Diego. Their song was melodic, almost sweet.

  I drew my cloak tighter around me and started down the narrow path that wound away from the cave. The trail was steep and half-eaten by roots, but I’d done this a hundred times, and my feet knew where to go. After a while, the trees thinned, and the air grew warmer. In the distance, a faint ribbon of smoke rose lazily over the treetops.

  Home. Well, one of them anyway.

  My father’s cottage sat at the edge of a clearing, half-swallowed by ivy and ringed with wildflowers that refused to stay tamed. The shutters were shut tight, and the ivy was getting a little too wild. He obviously hadn’t been back in a while. Oh well. Maybe that was better. I wouldn’t have to admit I was running from disappointment and stupid managers.

  I exhaled, the last of my anger slipping out with the breath, and started down the hill toward the cottage. I kicked through the plants that were crowding the path to the door. Couldn’t he hire someone to clear the path every once in a while? It wasn’t like my father was hurting for funds.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  A half-smile tugged at my lips. Who was I kidding? He probably didn’t care about path clearance. It wasn’t like there were city codes that he needed to comply with here, or, heaven forbid, an HOA. I finally made it into the house and took stock of the supplies. Empty cupboards mostly with a few things that Dad had forgotten to throw out that were hard as rock or rancid. I grimaced and got to work cleaning up.

  After a while, I decided there wasn’t much point in scrubbing empty shelves. The place needed more than cleaning—it needed food, soap, and probably some sort of rodent deterrent. With a sigh, I changed into clothes from my room that didn’t scream “not from here” and slung my satchel over my shoulder before starting down the forest path toward town.

  It wasn’t a long walk, maybe half an hour if you didn’t get distracted by the view. The road dipped and wound along a shallow stream that burbled in a way I’d only seen in national parks on Earth. A few sprites flickered above the water, darting away as I passed. That definitely never happened in the national parks.

  By the time I reached the outskirts, the air smelled like bread and woodsmoke, and the sounds of life filtered through the trees—hammering, laughter, someone calling out prices at the market square. Same as always. Kirath might have been full of wonders, but even wonders had to eat and haggle.

  A few heads turned when I stepped onto the cobblestone street.

  “Well, if it isn’t Trina,” called a familiar voice. It was Corin, the baker’s son, who’d somehow managed to grow about six inches since I’d last seen him a few months ago. He had a basket on his hip that smelled divine.

  “Deliveries?” I asked.

  He hummed in answer.

  “You don’t happen to have extra bread, do you? Father wasn’t expecting me, and the cupboards are a little… barren.”

  Corin grinned. “Torrik’s been gone for months. I heard he went all the way to Crithnon this time by special request of the king or something.”

  I snorted. “Sounds like him.”

  Corin got a little starry-eyed. “Wish I could have kings requesting my presence.”

  I sighed. “I don’t think it’s as fun as it seems.”

  “Maybe not fun, but to be important like that? It's still strange to me that he keeps coming back here. I wouldn’t live in this tiny town if I could live somewhere like Crithlinor.”

  I grimaced. Dad might have agreed with him. It was hard to tell with him sometimes, but I knew exactly why he kept that cottage and came back regularly. The fact that he wasn’t here or heading back meant whatever he was doing was important. I hadn’t planned to visit for two more weeks, but he still usually tried to hang around during my summer just in case I had time to visit.

  “Guess he just likes the woods here or something,” I muttered.

  “Maybe, but the woods are just trees. I hear the Tower glows at night, and it’s Crithnon’s capital, so must be beautiful, right?”

  I held back a grin about the glowing Tower. I hadn't been to Crithnon, but lit up skyscrapers would absolutely blow his mind. Maybe not in a good way, though. The townspeople didn’t know about the portal. They didn’t need to. They knew I was odd, but they thought Mom and I lived in a town a few days to the east. Not in another world.

  “It does sound pretty,” I admitted. “But... bread?” I asked, drawing the conversation back.

  “I’ve got an extra loaf if you’ve got coin. You want more than that, and you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

  I tossed him a copper piece, and he dug a loaf out of his basket for me.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to your deliveries,” I said.

  He grinned, and I headed toward the market. I got the usual nods and half-smiles, always recognition mixed with curiosity. Not quite foreign, not quite local. Most people didn’t make a big deal of it anymore, but I could always feel it in the way conversations dipped for just a second when I walked by.

  Still, I stocked up what I needed—cheese, some dried fruit, and a bundle of herbs I didn’t recognize but the shopkeeper swore would “ward off mischief.” Whatever that meant. I hoped it meant rats, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. The man who sold the charms I usually purchased was apparently doing business in a nearby town today.

  When I was done, I slung the bag over my shoulder again and started back up the road toward the forest, pretending not to notice the way the air seemed heavier the closer I got to home.

  By the time I made it back to the cottage, the sun was dipping low, spilling golden light through the trees. The cottage looked almost peaceful again, like the place had just been waiting for someone to come home. I set a small fire going in the hearth and cobbled together something that looked like a charcuterie board. Still, the bread was fresh, and the dried fruit had a nice tang to it. I even found a jar of pickled something that hadn’t turned to sludge yet, which felt like a small miracle.

  The house creaked in the evening wind. It was strange how big it felt when Dad wasn’t there. For a man who was gone more than he was home, he somehow still filled the place.

  After I ate, I wandered outside. The forest was quiet except for the distant hum of crickets and the occasional whoosh of wings somewhere overhead. Firefly like bugs that were more silver than yellow blinked low to the ground. Their name was on the tip of my tongue, but try as I might I couldn’t remember the Kirathi word for them.

  I sighed. Another thing I needed Dad for. I didn’t feel like sleeping indoors, the house was too empty, so I set up my hammock between two trees near the edge of the clearing. It was a good solid camping hammock I’d brought from Earth. Dad would probably be annoyed because it didn't exactly blend in, but it was way easier to put up than Dad's stuff here.

  I settled in, swinging gently to watch the stars. The forest canopy had opened just enough that I could see the sky. The lights swirled above. I could see so many more of them here, like someone had scrubbed the haze off the universe. I traced the constellations Dad had shown me when I was little, the ones that didn’t exist anywhere in the Earth sky.

  Where was he? Maybe he was still all the way in Crithnon. Maybe he wouldn’t be back for weeks, and I should just go home. Maybe he’d decided some king was more important than me, and he wasn’t coming back at all.

  I shoved the thought aside. He’d come back. He always did. Eventually. Maybe it was his version of running too, coming back here to visit me. Maybe he had his own stupid Darrens to deal with on his adventures. Did adventurers even have managers?

  I huffed a laugh. Honestly, Dad would probably be more annoyed by someone like that than by a straight-up dragon. It was the little things that set him off. He could face a battle with ice in his veins and then lose it completely over someone being irritating.

  Maybe that’s where I got it.

  Something in my chest ached. Maybe coming here was a bad idea. It just made me miss him. I sighed and closed my eyes. This could be good. Calming. I could treat it like some meditation on life or something. Tomorrow I’d clean more. Maybe hike down to the river. Maybe even enjoy the quiet. For now, I just wanted to sleep.

  A branch snapped somewhere in the woods, and I startled awake, heart pounding. I tried to steady my breathing. It was fine. Probably just some animal. Then there was another snap, and someone called out. I couldn’t quite make out the words.

  Then: “It’s just through here. Keep pressure on his side. I have something to stop the bleeding.”

  Light flooded the clearing.

  A surprised voice said, “Trina?”

  Seems my father hadn’t forgotten me after all. And judging by the shout that had just come from the woods, he’d brought trouble back with him.