Carson's fingers fumbled with the clasps of his mining suit, a task he'd performed thousands of times without thought. Today, each movement required deliberate concentration. The locker room's overhead lights—the same dingy fluorescents that had buzzed above him for years—now seemed painfully bright, each flicker distinct and distracting.

  "You sure about this?" Link whispered, positioning himself to block Carson from the view of other miners filing in for the shift change.

  Carson nodded, not trusting his voice. The Stone pulsed gently against his chest, hidden beneath three layers—undershirt, thermal liner, and the outer mining suit. Bowie's improvised shielding pouch seemed to be working, dampening the Stone's energy signature enough to avoid casual detection, but Carson felt naked regardless.

  "Just act normal," he muttered, more to himself than Link.

  Normal. As if anything could be normal again. The Stone had changed everything—his senses, his awareness, his very connection to the world around him. The locker room reeked of industrial cleaners and human sweat, scents he'd previously registered only vaguely but now could dissect into distinct chemical components. The conversations of miners twenty feet away reached his ears with uncomfortable clarity.

  "...heard security's looking for someone who stole from the Theists..."

  "...Prince Roman himself apparently..."

  "...extra patrols in the residential sectors..."

  Carson forced his breathing to steady as he sealed the final clasp on his suit. They'd decided that attempting to flee immediately would draw too much attention. Better to maintain routine, report for their scheduled mining shift, and use the relative freedom of the asteroid field to plan their next move. Wind had reluctantly agreed to separate temporarily, arranging to meet them at emergency rendezvous point Echo-7 after their shift.

  The equipment distribution terminal beeped as Carson approached. He swiped his ID and waited for the system to dispense his assigned gear. The Stone warmed against his skin, responding to his anxiety.

  Calm down, he thought toward it, unsure if the Stone could understand but certain it reacted to his emotional state.

  The terminal's screen flickered—just for an instant—as Carson's hand hovered over it. The standard red "Processing" indicator flashed blue momentarily before returning to normal. His assigned gear slot opened with a pneumatic hiss, but Carson froze, staring at the terminal.

  Had the Stone just interfered with the system?

  "Move it, Craft," a gruff voice called from behind. "Some of us have quotas to meet."

  Link smoothly stepped between Carson and the impatient miner. "Sorry, Vega. Equipment terminal's being glitchy again." He reached past Carson and grabbed both their gear sets, nudging Carson toward the transport bay.

  As they walked, Carson cataloged potential escape routes, resources, and threats. The transport bay connected to three maintenance corridors, each leading to different sections of the station. Their mining skiff would have emergency oxygen for six hours, communication equipment, and basic navigation. If they diverted course during the mining operation, they'd have perhaps twenty minutes before anyone noticed.

  The Stone cooled slightly as Carson's thoughts became more strategic, as though approving his planning.

  The pre-flight inspection station loomed ahead—standard procedure before any mining operation. Carson's heart rate spiked. The scanner would sweep each miner for contraband, weapons, or unauthorized tech.

  "I'll go first," Link murmured. "Watch what happens."

  Link stepped into the scanner. Green lights flashed as he passed through without incident. Carson approached next, trying to project casual confidence. The Stone grew warmer against his chest, almost uncomfortable.

  Please, he thought desperately. Stay hidden.

  He stepped into the scanner. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the display panel flickered—just like the equipment terminal had—before showing all green indicators. The technician monitoring the scanner frowned, tapped the screen twice, then waved Carson through with a shrug.

  "Equipment's all acting up today," the technician muttered. "Damn budget cuts on maintenance."

  Carson exhaled slowly as he joined Link at their assigned skiff. The Stone cooled again, its pulse slowing to match his heartbeat.

  "Did you see that?" he whispered to Link as they stowed their gear.

  Link nodded. "The Stone's affecting the tech around you. Could be useful."

  "Or dangerous," Carson replied, glancing toward the control booth where shift supervisors monitored all mining operations.

  The skiff's engines hummed to life as they completed pre-launch checks. Carson settled into the pilot's seat, the familiar controls suddenly seeming primitive compared to the ancient technology nestled against his chest. The Stone's presence made everything human-built appear temporary, fragile—like children's toys compared to the incomprehensible sophistication he sensed within the artifact.

  "Skiff 17, you are cleared for launch bay three," the controller's voice crackled over the comm. "Standard extraction pattern, quadrant four."

  "Acknowledged," Carson responded, guiding the skiff toward the indicated launch bay. Through the viewport, the vast blackness of space beckoned, scattered with the glittering fragments of asteroids being systematically harvested for TITAN's endless resource hunger.

  As the launch bay doors parted, Carson felt the Stone pulse once, strongly, as though responding to the sight of open space. A plan was forming in his mind—not just for today's escape, but something larger, a path unfolding before him that he couldn't yet fully comprehend.

  The skiff launched into the void, and Carson Craft—no longer just a miner, no longer just another cog in TITAN's machine—felt the weight of destiny settling onto his shoulders alongside the ancient Stone.

  Carson adjusted the mining laser's calibration with practiced precision, his eyes scanning the asteroid fragment floating before him. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the suit's temperature regulation. The Light Stone pressed against his chest beneath the mining suit, no longer just a physical weight but a presence that demanded his attention.

  "Targeting grid shows high ferrite concentration in sector three," he reported to Link through the comm channel, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Moving to extract."

  "Copy that," Link replied from his position twenty meters away. "I've got eyes on the supervisor feed. You're clear."

  Carson maneuvered his position using the suit's thrusters, the familiar sensation of weightlessness now overlaid with something else—a subtle vibration emanating from the Stone. As he drifted farther from the station, the Stone's activity increased. The whispers that had teased the edges of his consciousness grew more insistent.

  ...keeper...

  The word floated through his mind like smoke, there and gone. Carson's hand jerked slightly, sending the laser cutting a centimeter off target. He corrected quickly, hoping Link hadn't noticed.

  "You good over there?" Link's voice carried a note of concern.

  "Yeah," Carson lied. "Just a calibration hiccup."

  He focused on the asteroid, aligning the extraction beam with the mineral vein. The laser hummed to life, its blue-white energy carving through rock with surgical precision. As the beam struck a particularly dense section of ore, the Stone pulsed sharply against his skin.

  Keeper... seventh... find the others...

  The voices came in fragments, multiple tones overlapping—some ancient and weary, others urgent and desperate. Carson's breath caught in his throat as colors flashed behind his eyelids with each pulse—gold, blue, green swirling together like some cosmic aurora.

  "Carson?" Link's voice seemed distant. "Your output's fluctuating. What's happening?"

  The mining laser's power indicator wavered, dropping twenty percent before surging back to full capacity. Carson's hands trembled as he fought to maintain control of the equipment.

  "Just... interference," he managed. "Radiation pocket maybe."

  But it wasn't radiation. The Stone was drawing energy somehow, creating a feedback loop with the mining equipment. Each pulse brought the voices closer, clearer.

  The seventh convergence approaches. Seal the breach before shadow consumes all.

  Carson's vision blurred. The vast emptiness of space around him seemed to shift, stars elongating into streaks of light that formed patterns he almost recognized. The asteroid before him no longer looked like mere rock but something alive with potential energy, veins of minerals glowing with significance he couldn't yet comprehend.

  Can you hear us? The voices merged into one, directed at him specifically.

  Carson hesitated, then thought back deliberately: Yes. Who are you?

  The response came as a wave of sensation rather than words—a sense of connection across vast time, of purpose passed from hand to hand like a torch. He saw flashes of faces, people who had carried the Stone before him, their lives compressed into emotional impressions that flooded his consciousness.

  "Carson!" Link's voice cut through the visions. "Your vitals are spiking. The supervisor's asking questions. I can't cover much longer."

  With tremendous effort, Carson pulled his attention back to the mining operation. His suit's biometric display flashed warning indicators—elevated heart rate, irregular breathing patterns, unusual neural activity. He forced himself to take several deep breaths.

  "Tell them... tell them my suit had a pressure fluctuation. I'm compensating."

  The laser continued its work, carving through the asteroid as Carson fought to maintain the appearance of normal operation. But as the beam aligned with a particular crystalline vein running deep within the rock, the Stone flared with unprecedented intensity.

  Craft of the same blood. The circle returns.

  The asteroid fragment before him disappeared from his perception, replaced by a vivid image of a man who looked startlingly like himself but older, weathered by time and knowledge. The man stood before what appeared to be a swirling vortex of golden light, the Stone—identical to the one against Carson's chest—held outstretched in his hand. The portal responded to his command, expanding to allow passage.

  In that moment, Carson understood with absolute certainty that he was seeing Dr. Craft—his ancestor, the creator of the technology that had shaped their solar system, and the original bearer of the Stone.

  The path opens only for those who carry the flame, the voice whispered, now unmistakably belonging to the man in the vision. You are the Keeper now.

  The vision collapsed as suddenly as it had appeared. Carson found himself staring at the asteroid once more, the mining laser still cutting its programmed pattern. The Stone quieted against his chest, its message delivered.

  "Carson?" Link's voice was tight with worry. "Whatever's happening, we need to abort. Your mining pattern's all wrong, and they're starting to notice."

  Carson looked down at his hands, still trembling slightly on the controls. The ancestor he never knew he had. The power to open doorways between worlds. The responsibility of keeping something called "the breach" sealed.

  "Yeah," he managed, his voice barely a whisper. "Let's head back."

  Carson's hands trembled as he fought to maintain control of the extraction beam. His body remained at the mining site, but his mind split between realities. The Stone pulsed against his chest, each throb sending waves of foreign memories crashing through him. Not memories—someone else's life.

  The asteroid before him flickered, its rocky surface momentarily replaced by gleaming laboratory walls. Carson blinked hard, trying to focus on the mining task. The extraction beam wavered as his concentration fractured.

  "Hold position," Link's voice crackled through the comms, distant and tinny compared to the crystal-clear sounds now filling Carson's head—the soft hum of advanced machinery, the bubbling of chemical solutions, the scratch of stylus on tablet.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  These aren't my memories.

  Carson inhaled sharply as the laboratory solidified around him. The mining site hadn't disappeared—he could still feel the control grips in his gloved hands, still see the asteroid when he focused—but layered atop reality was this other place. A man stood at a workbench, his back to Carson, shoulders hunched over something that emitted a familiar golden glow.

  The man turned, and Carson's breath caught. It was like looking in a mirror aged twenty years—the same jawline, the same eyes, even the same habit of pushing hair back from his forehead when concentrating.

  "Dr. Craft," Carson whispered, recognizing the face from historical archives. The name had never meant anything to him before—just another TITAN scientist from the early colonization period. But now, looking at that face—his face—Carson felt something lock into place inside him.

  The Stone flared hot against his skin as Dr. Craft looked directly at him, somehow seeing across time.

  "If you're experiencing this memory, you carry my bloodline," Dr. Craft said, his voice resonating both inside and outside Carson's head. "I've encoded these memories specifically for genetic retrieval. Only someone sharing my DNA sequence can access them."

  Carson's hands slipped on the mining controls. The extraction beam cut wildly across the asteroid's surface.

  "Craft, what the hell?" Link's voice barely registered.

  In the laboratory vision, Dr. Craft held up the Stone—identical to the one against Carson's chest.

  "This is more than a key. It's the first of seven, each containing an aspect of what we need to survive what's coming." Dr. Craft moved to a holographic display showing seven distinct crystalline structures arranged in a circle. "The Architects left these for us to find, but there are those who would use them without understanding."

  The laboratory shifted, revealing walls lined with equipment Carson couldn't identify—technology that looked nothing like TITAN's clean, efficient designs. These devices were both more primitive and more advanced somehow, incorporating elements that seemed to flicker between solid matter and pure energy.

  "I've hidden my research across multiple systems," Dr. Craft continued, moving between workstations with urgent purpose. "The genetic key in your blood will unlock each cache as you're ready. The Light Stone you now carry will guide you to the others."

  Carson felt sweat beading on his forehead inside his helmet. The mining site and laboratory overlapped in nauseating double vision. He could smell chemicals and ozone from Dr. Craft's lab despite being in the vacuum of space. His fingers tingled with phantom sensations of touching equipment that existed a century ago.

  "They're coming," Dr. Craft said suddenly, looking over his shoulder at something Carson couldn't see. "I don't have time to explain everything. The Stone responds to intention and need. It creates pathways when there are none." He moved to a wall covered in equations. "The dimensional boundaries are thinner than we realized. The void between... it contains entities that feed on fear and division."

  Alarms blared in the laboratory. Dr. Craft gathered materials quickly, shoving them into a containment unit.

  "Remember this," he said, eyes boring into Carson's. "The Light transcends fear. Europa brings insight beyond tribal boundaries. Mars holds life's renewal. Venus harmonizes control. Mercury transforms scarcity. Saturn bends time itself. The seventh..." He paused, glancing at something off-screen. "The seventh completes the circle."

  Carson watched as Dr. Craft clutched the Stone in his palm. Golden light erupted from it, spiraling outward to form a swirling vortex in the center of the laboratory.

  "Bloodline to bloodline, I pass this burden," Dr. Craft said. "When all seven converge, you'll face the choice that determines whether humanity survives or joins the fallen civilizations before us."

  The portal expanded, its edges crackling with energy. Dr. Craft stepped toward it, the containment unit clutched to his chest.

  "Find the others, Keeper. Complete what I could not."

  As Dr. Craft stepped into the golden vortex, Carson felt the Stone against his chest pulse in perfect synchronization with its past self. For one disorienting moment, he existed in both timeframes simultaneously—feeling both the mining controls in his hands and the portal's energy washing over his skin.

  "Carson!" Link's voice cut through the vision. "Your extraction pattern is all over the place! What's happening?"

  The laboratory faded, leaving Carson gasping in his suit, staring at the asteroid before him. The mining beam had carved an erratic pattern across its surface—not random marks, but a series of interconnected symbols identical to those he'd seen on Dr. Craft's laboratory walls.

  The Stone quieted against his chest, but Carson knew with bone-deep certainty that everything had changed. He wasn't just some orphaned miner who'd stumbled upon an artifact. He was the direct descendant of Dr. Craft, genetically chosen to complete a mission begun a century ago.

  And something in the void between worlds was waking up.

  Carson's mining laser hit a dark vein of mineral embedded in the asteroid's crust, and the world shifted. One moment he was following standard extraction protocols, the next his body went rigid as the Light Stone against his chest flared with sudden heat. The sensation pierced through his insulated mining suit, impossible yet undeniable.

  "What the—" Carson's words cut short as golden light spilled from beneath his collar, illuminating his helmet from within. The mining laser trembled in his grip, no longer responding to his commands.

  The mineral vein beneath his extraction point glowed with an answering light, pulsing in perfect rhythm with the Stone. Not a coincidence. The two were communicating somehow, resonating at frequencies that made his teeth ache and his vision blur.

  "System malfunction detected," Maeve's voice crackled through his helmet. "Extraction beam exceeding safety parameters. Recommend immediate shutdown."

  Carson tried to release the controls, but his hands wouldn't respond. The Stone's energy had locked his muscles, holding him in place as golden light traveled up his arms in visible currents beneath his suit fabric.

  "Carson!" Link's voice cut through the static. "Your readings are off the charts. What's happening over there?"

  He wanted to answer, to warn Link to stay back, but another surge of energy stole his breath. The mining laser's beam narrowed to an impossible focus, carving symbols into the asteroid's surface that Carson somehow recognized despite never having seen them before.

  Space itself began to warp around the extraction point. Stars stretched and bent in his visual field, reality thinning like fabric pulled too tight. Carson felt a strange calm replace his initial panic. This was supposed to happen. The Stone had been waiting for this exact mineral composition, this precise location.

  "I'm coming to get you," Link called, his voice distorting with harmonic overtones that shouldn't exist in their communication system.

  "No—stay back—" Carson finally managed, tasting electricity on his tongue as the words left his mouth.

  The mining equipment around him sparked and sputtered. His suit systems flashed contradictory readings: impossible pressure changes, temperature fluctuations, and energy signatures that the sensors couldn't categorize. Yet beneath the chaos, Carson sensed a pattern emerging—not random malfunction but deliberate reconfiguration.

  He stopped fighting the Stone's influence. Instead of resisting the golden energy flowing through him, Carson surrendered to it, letting it guide his hands on the controls. The mining laser responded, its beam splitting into multiple strands of light that wove together in the space before him.

  Reality tore open.

  There was no other way to describe it. Space itself split along invisible seams, golden-white light pouring through the gaps. The tear expanded outward in a spiral pattern, creating a swirling vortex of energy where empty space had been moments before. Carson's body floated toward it, drawn by a gravity that shouldn't exist.

  Through the communication system, he heard alarms blaring on Link's end. "Carson, you need to get away from that thing! Your suit integrity is compromising!"

  But Carson knew, with inexplicable certainty, that he was safer here than anywhere else. The Stone's energy had enveloped him completely now, a protective cocoon of light visible even through his suit material. His skin tingled with building charge, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

  The portal continued to form, edges stabilizing into a perfect circle of swirling golden-white energy. Through its center, Carson caught glimpses of somewhere else—flashes of green vegetation, atmospheric haze, sunlight filtering through leaves. Not the barren emptiness of space, but somewhere alive.

  With sudden intuitive understanding, Carson realized he could direct the portal's formation. The Stone responded to his thoughts, the swirling energies shifting as he focused on the glimpses of vegetation. The portal stabilized further, the image of dense jungle becoming clearer through its center.

  "Link," Carson called, his voice steadier now despite the impossibility surrounding him. "I think I know what this is."

  He saw Link's suited figure pushing against the fluctuating gravity, fighting to reach him despite the growing danger. The loyalty in that simple action made Carson's chest tighten with emotion.

  The portal hung before them, fully formed—a perfect circle of swirling golden-white energy, offering passage to the jungle world visible at its center.

  Carson hung suspended between realities, the Stone's energy flowing through him like liquid fire. The mining laser dangled uselessly from his grip as golden light spilled from every seam in his suit. Each breath felt electric, charged with impossible power that both terrified and exhilarated him.

  The portal yawned before him—a perfect spiral of golden-white energy, its edges rippling with mathematical precision. Through its center, Carson glimpsed a world of verdant green, so vibrant it hurt his eyes after months surrounded by the sterile grays of Celestia Station. Sunlight filtered through massive leaves, casting dappled shadows on ground he couldn't quite see. The sight triggered something primal in him—a longing for open sky and natural air he hadn't known he carried.

  "Carson! Grab onto something!" Link's voice cut through the static that filled Carson's helmet.

  The portal's pull increased, tugging Carson forward with invisible hands. His tether line stretched taut behind him, the reinforced carbon fiber straining against forces it was never designed to withstand. Warning indicators flashed across his helmet display, then flickered out entirely as his suit systems failed one by one.

  "Stay back!" Carson shouted, watching in horror as Link launched himself from a nearby outcropping, propelling himself directly toward the danger. "Link, don't—"

  But Link ignored him, firing his maneuvering thrusters in short, controlled bursts. The portal's influence distorted their normal function, sending him into a spinning trajectory that he somehow corrected through sheer stubborn will.

  A strange sound filled Carson's ears—a roaring that shouldn't exist in the vacuum of space, yet undeniably real. The air itself seemed to bend around the portal's edge, creating currents that pulled at his body with increasing strength.

  "Emergency situation detected in Sector 7," a distant voice crackled through the failing comm system. "All personnel evacuate immediately. Unknown energy signature expanding—" The transmission dissolved into unintelligible static.

  Time slowed as Carson watched Link fight against the portal's pull. His friend's face was visible through his helmet visor—jaw clenched, eyes narrowed in concentration. Not a trace of hesitation. Not a moment's thought for his own safety. Link had one goal: reaching Carson.

  "You idiot," Carson whispered, emotion tightening his throat. "Save yourself."

  Link's hand stretched toward him, fingers straining across the diminishing gap between them. "Not without you."

  The golden light from Carson's Stone pulsed brighter, and suddenly he felt the portal's pull double in strength. His body jerked forward violently, the tether line snapping with a silent recoil that sent shards of carbon fiber spiraling into the void.

  In that moment, Carson saw Link make a decision. His friend fired his last maneuvering burst, launching himself directly into Carson's path. Their bodies collided with bone-jarring force, but Link's arms wrapped around Carson with surprising strength.

  "Got you," Link grunted, his voice tight with exertion.

  Carson felt Link's hands working at his utility belt, retrieving something. Through his dazed vision, he saw Link securing a secondary tether between their suits, binding them together with mechanical locks that wouldn't separate without deliberate release.

  "What are you doing?" Carson gasped as the portal's edge drew nearer, its swirling energy now just meters away.

  "Making sure we stick together," Link replied, his voice steady despite everything. "Whatever's on the other side, we face it together."

  The portal's edge touched Carson's outstretched boot, and sensation exploded through his body—pins and needles racing up his leg, followed by warmth unlike anything he'd experienced before. Not heat, but something more fundamental. Recognition. Welcome.

  The Stone at his chest pulsed in response, its light synchronizing with the portal's spiral pattern. Carson felt his consciousness expanding, stretching beyond the confines of his physical form. For a brief, disorienting moment, he perceived the portal from both sides simultaneously—saw himself and Link from an impossible perspective as they hung on the threshold between worlds.

  "Link—" Carson began, but words failed him as the portal's energy enveloped them both.

  The last thing Carson registered was Link's grip tightening around his arm and the sudden rush of humid air against his face as his helmet systems failed completely. Then they were falling, tumbling through golden light toward the green world beyond.

  Carson's body stopped being a body. The sensation wasn't painful—it was the opposite of pain, a release from the constraints he'd never known were binding him. The portal consumed them, and he ceased to exist in any way he understood existence.

  The Light Stone melted into his chest, its energy flowing through pathways he hadn't known existed within himself. The golden-white light became him, and he became it. Somewhere, Link was with him, but "with" no longer meant what it once had. They weren't side by side—they were everywhere and nowhere, their consciousness stretched across something beyond space.

  I am dissolving, Carson thought, but the thought had color—a deep sapphire blue that tasted of salt and memory.

  Time stretched. A heartbeat lasted centuries. A millennium passed between breaths.

  Carson perceived himself from outside himself—saw his own essence as a pattern of light among countless others. The portal wasn't a tunnel connecting two points; it was a thread in a vast tapestry of reality, woven through dimensions he'd never imagined. He was traveling along that thread, but also observing it from above, below, and angles that had no names.

  Then they appeared—figures formed of the same golden light as the Stone. Not physical bodies but concentrated patterns of consciousness, each distinct yet connected to the others. The previous Keepers. Their awareness brushed against his, ancient minds touching his own across the boundaries of time and death.

  We see you, Carson Craft. The thought wasn't spoken but existed as pure meaning, resonating through him. You who carries what we carried.

  A woman with eyes like distant stars approached. Her consciousness tasted of mountain air and iron determination. I was Elara, First Keeper after the Great Collapse. I walked the ruins of Earth with the Stone as my guide when humanity's survival hung by a thread.

  Another presence—a man whose essence felt like desert heat and careful calculation. I was Soren, who built the first sanctuary on Mars when the shadows first reached for us.

  They came in succession, each sharing not just their names but their entire being—their struggles, triumphs, and ultimate sacrifices merging temporarily with Carson's expanded awareness.

  Then a presence stronger than the others emerged, familiar in ways Carson couldn't articulate. The man's features resolved into clarity—the same face Carson had glimpsed in his earlier visions, now unmistakable in its resemblance to his own.

  I am Dr. Marcus Craft. Your blood is my blood, Carson. Your journey continues what I began.

  The revelation vibrated through Carson's being. This was his ancestor—the connection he'd never known, the family he'd believed lost forever. The knowledge settled into him not as surprise but as recognition of something he'd always known but forgotten.

  The Keys were never meant to be weapons, Dr. Craft's consciousness conveyed. They are tools of healing. The breach grows. Reality bleeds. Seven must become one to seal what was torn.

  Images cascaded through Carson's awareness—a vast wound in the fabric of existence, shadow entities pouring through, seven points of light converging to mend what was broken. The visions weren't metaphors but direct perceptions of multidimensional truth, unfiltered by the limitations of human senses.

  You will be tested, the collective consciousness of Keepers impressed upon him. Not for worthiness but for transcendence. Fear must become courage. Separation must become unity. The path is transformation, not acquisition.

  Carson tried to ask questions, but in this state, questions were unnecessary—understanding flowed directly between consciousnesses. He glimpsed the other Keys, saw their locations scattered across the solar system, perceived the patterns of connection that would lead him to each.

  Your friend remains anchored to you, Dr. Craft's presence noted. A rare bond. Treasure it. The journey breaks many.

  The procession of Keepers began to fade, their light merging back into the golden flow of the portal. As they dissolved, Carson felt himself condensing, consciousness reluctantly folding back into the limitations of physical form.

  Remember, came their final collective thought. The Stone is not yours to possess. You are its vessel, not its master.

  Reality crashed back with stunning force. Gravity seized Carson's body, pulling him downward through sudden, humid air. The portal's light contracted above him, a spiral collapsing into itself until it vanished with a sound like a distant bell.

  Carson and Link fell through dense foliage, branches whipping past them as they plummeted toward the jungle floor below.