“Do you want me to remove it?” Eleanor confirmed.

“Wait one—” Clara squeaked. After finding a wooden dowel, she readied herself by biting down on it. Do it!

Eleanor grabbed the oversized splinter. Once freed, a glob of golden blood came with it. While the pain proved to be temporary, her eyes glowed, and she snapped the dowel in three.

“Fuck!”

“So we never needed to communicate verbally?” Clara asked.

“Of course not.”

“Why—”

“One does not waste a goddess’ time,” Eleanor replied.

As the sisters retched in horror at Clara being called a goddess, Eleanor approached and kneeled into the mud, but that white dress was unaffected. Her clothes did not interact with the physical world.

“I can help,” Eleanor said.

Clara narrowed her eyes. A lot of thoughts were passing through her mind, but paranoia was at the high-water mark. Is this a trick?

“I can understand you,” Eleanor said. “In your weakened state you are broadcasting your thoughts. Like fireworks in the night sky.”

“You’ve seen fireworks?” Clara asked.

“Yes. People get reckless around them,” Eleanor said bluntly.

“Am I safe?” Clara asked, her throat bloody and hoarse.

The silence was a good sign, but that hole through the wall was brought on by a high-velocity impact. Clara may have been stronger and faster than a human, but her bones could still shatter… Could?

A shift in position made her nervous system come alight. She clenched her jaw and pushed through the discomfort to get herself into a sitting position. It was obvious from this vantage point that her left leg was visibly swollen. However, most of the rips and tears found on her clothing did not correspond to a wound. They were all bordered with dried blood.

“I must have—” Clara winced.

“Why can’t we leave—” Sparky whined.

“Shut it,” Ethereal snapped.

“We’re out of time,” Silver whispered.

Clara regained consciousness. Based on the ambient sunlight, she had been out for several hours. Silence was the first thing that registered in her mind. There was nothing more than the wind rolling over a field and leaves rustling through trees. I can’t hear any cars out in the distance.

Once she shook a few cobwebs loose from her mind, Clara realised there was a gaping hole in the wall, which afforded her a view of the outside world. Her eyes then focused on the blood splatter that surrounded her. That must have been some landing…

There was a secondary click as the signal was sent to the charges. This was followed by something that sounded like artillery fire at close range. Next came blinding light as the contents of this room were vaporising around her. 

Clara had once been enveloped by a moving wall of water, and remained unaffected in this form. This time there came a powerful push, followed by something reminiscent of uncontrolled freefall. Even with a brain wired for flight, her mind could not account for the rapid changes in pitch, roll, and yaw.

The surge in velocity soon caused her to black out entirely. The last thing she registered was screaming, unaware that she was the source.

“That’s where we found the tomb under that ziggurat,” Clara said.

There was a site in Mexico that she was intimately familiar with. These tracks filled in holes in the timeline that she formed in her head.

“That’s where they attacked the Terminus and sealed us off,” Clara said. 

The destinations lined up perfectly, and that included the thread ending at The Grand. 

“That’s where I died,” Clara said. “But that’s not where I was listed as missing.”

After moving into the centre of the room, she gazed upon the world map. Push pins were found throughout, some differed in colour but quickly figured out the meaning for some. The blue ones denoted known gate points, while those in yellow indicated sites with caches like this one.

“I received cables from at least nine of those cities,” Clara said, referring to her query on which gates were active after the Terminus was attacked.

There were more than push pins covering the map, that included pictures, newspaper clippings or cables. It was the combination of all this information that shed light on what happened to hunters after they were cut off from the Tower.

“I knew her,” Clara said while looking over the picture of a hunter stationed in France. “She’s the one who relieved me at the surgical hospital after I ran into Drusilla.”

She stopped at the dead centre of the corner, did a right turn as a soldier did in drill, and took what should have been seven paces. While that was true for male hunters, Clara always needed an additional half-step to reach the same point.

After making a left-turn, Clara faced the flawless brick exterior wall, but knew this was where she should be. She removed the key from her pocket, and a door appeared dead ahead. These doors were always concealed, courtesy of the Gerogians. I wonder what the Tower gave up for that tech?

She inserted the key into the lock and turned it until the locking mechanism made an audible sound. The door resisted her push, but with some elbow grease it gave way with a snap. Out of caution, she checked the frame and hinges, and while corroded, there were no wires or obvious trigger mechanisms.