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Idonea jerked back in shock. The snow around the base had melted in a perfect ring, hidden beneath the fresh layer that had fallen earlier. She scraped more away with quick, sharp motions.

The soil underneath pulsed faintly, but not Current. It was slower, thicker; a heartbeat of something old and wrong.

Her breath clouded in front of her as she leaned in, her hand hovering a hair’s breadth above the dirt. That shouldn't be possible. The warmth grew, spreading outward, something deep beneath the roots stirring at her touch.

Idonea’s pulse quickened, fear leaking at the base of her spine. She needed to know.

She rolled her sleeves back, exposing the skin of her forearms to the cold. Her fingers drifted towards the pouch at her belt. The ritual pressed against her thoughts.

Idonea drew the dagger across the back of her hand. The sting grounded her as bright red welled and dripped onto the warm earth.

The ground hissed where the blood touched, steam rising in a thin curl. The warmth surged up through her fingers, racing along her arm. Idonea startled and nearly pulled back but forced herself to stay still.

She scattered bone dust in a circle around the base of the trunk, her blood marking the centre. Her fingers barely trembled.

The air burned cold and bitter in her throat. Her chest tightened, ribs straining. She pushed harder, teeth clenched, sweat beading along her brow.

The world dropped out from beneath her. Her stomach lurched.

She hung suspended in nothingness, a body without weight, no ground, no sky, no sound.

Mist bled into the void, orange, and heavy like the light of a perpetual sunset. It crept into her nose and mouth, tasting like rust. Her pulse thundered, uneven breaths shattering the silence. Her muscles jerked uncontrollably, spasms tearing through her limbs.

She was in the threshold, the void between the mortal world and the one beyond the Nexis. The tree had been a hidden gateway. A tear to the veil.

Pain lashed her chest, her lungs, her throat. Her body arched with the strain, and then her back caught fire.

The marks along her spine ignited in sequence, the lowest first, then the next, climbing. Each one a separate line of heat tracing up her vertebrae. By the time the fourth lit, she could feel the shape of each mark from the inside, as if her body had grown new organs along the bone and they were waking, one after another, into something they remembered being.

The fifth didn't light. Relief hit so suddenly it almost hurt.

Her vision blurred with black spots. The roar of her heartbeat filled her skull. Then hands closed around her wrists, warm and steady.

But no one was there.

The touch calmed her all the same, anchored her. She let go of fear, let herself surrender to the state she found herself in.

Her insides hollowed, a force jerked her backward.

Air screamed past her, her body tumbling, pins and needles burning across her fingertips and toes. Her eyes flew open with a gasp.

The mortal world rushed back. She fell forward on her hands, panting. Blood splattered the surrounding ground.

Tiny cuts crisscrossed her arms. She touched her brow, and her fingers came away wet with blood. The throb in her skull surged, pulling her eyelids heavy.

Her back ached. She reached behind herself, slowly, and pressed her palm against her back through her coat. The lowest four marks were warm. Not burning now. Just warm, the way muscle is warm after work.

She didn't know what to do with that knowledge. She filed it where she filed things she didn't yet have words for, and stood.

The earth trembled once, a subtle ripple. Snow slid from the branches above, dusting over her.

Footsteps, far off, crunching in the snow. Idonea’s head snapped up, heart lurching.

"Idonea?"

She stumbled back from the oak. The cuts were everywhere now. He'd see them.

"What happened?"