“Angels? God’s children? They should be on your side,” Rupert says. He leans forward, elbows on his knees.
“They're not,” Bunny says. “They’re beautiful creatures. All of them are, actually. The vampires, the angels. They all look unassuming, pleasing to the eye, but they’re deadly and there with specific instructions to take you out.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because the gods are playing a game,” Agis replies. Miya nods. “And we’re nothing but pawns.”
“He’s not wrong,” Sam says. “But it’s a game we’re forced to play to keep order in the world.”
“But you said there were people in the book that would help us too,” I point out.
“There are. Allies do exist in the other realms. You just have to figure out who they are.” Dylan clears his throat and holds up the book. “Each of you may take one satchel of supplies, this book, and a weapon.”
“What does this alternate world look like?” Marshal asks.
Dylan shrugs. “It’s impossible to know.”
“How do we know you’re not full of shit?” The knight asks, watching everyone carefully.
“Marshal,” Agis warns.
“You’ve signed up,” Clinton tells him, “we’re just giving you as much information as we can.”
He clamps his mouth but doesn’t look happy about it.
Dylan hands me the book.
“Thank you,” I say, feeling a hum of energy coursing through the leather-bound pages. “I’ll take care of it. Anything else?”
“Yes,” he replies, looking us each in the eye. “When you pass through the portal, the first thing you need to do is run. Get away from the gate and hide out for a little while. They know you’re coming and as soon as the gate opens, the Crusade begins.”
According to Professor Christensen, we can force open a portal with the help of the gods during the rising moon on solstice. For safety, the ritual is contained to the Nead’s backyard. I’m dressed in my boots and a jacket that can withstand the weather. It’s unknown what kind of temperature there will be in the realm we’re going into, and we try to prepare.
My pants have many pockets, filled with essentials. How do you fit survival on one body? The men have no concern, laden down with their weapons, including Agis’ infamous reaper's scythe. Miya, his sword. Armin a short, thick baton, with spikes jutting from the end. Rupert carries his lance—a long thin blade that looks as though it could peel off skin. Marshal has modified armor; shields attached to both arms and a breast plate. Interestingly, a bow and quiver of arrows hangs from his back. I’m uneasy with the blade I picked from the armory. Even though it’s sharp and weighted, it doesn’t feel right in my hand.
“Here,” Morgan says, approaching the circle where we stand. It’s marked off, a spot for the portal to open and close, allowing us passage from this world. She holds out the bejeweled sword Damien made especially for her. “Take this.”
I shake my head. “No way. That was forged for you.”
“It’s forged to claim destiny. It worked for me. Now make it work for you.”
I take the long blade in my hand and immediately feel at ease. Yes, this is a weapon that will protect and command. “Thank you.”
“Just promise to bring it back,” she says, eyes pleading. She means more than the blade.
“Of course.”
The moon continues to rise, and Professor Christensen walks to the edge of the circle with a thick book in his hands. His shoulders are tense, having declared already that he’s worried about sending us instead of the Guardians.
“There will be consequences,” I overhear him say to Dylan.
“It’s the right move,” my friend says in reply. “I have no doubt they’ll be successful.”
“Or incur the gods' wrath.”
I inhale and look at the men surrounding me. Armin winks, securing his spiked weapon to his waist.
We can handle whatever is thrown at us.