The horizon was beginning to lighten when the airship started its descent. Tofi woke with a slight jolt.
"Up you get, lad. We've arrived," announced old Lujk.
Tofi rubbed his eyes and looked outside. The mountain range was far behind them now, and below stretched a dark valley shrouded in mist. He could hear the hiss of the burner firing at intervals to keep the air inside the balloon hot, along with the low purr of the engines as they descended. The crowns of tall conifers brushed past beneath the gondola until, at last, the airship hovered and came to a vertical stop in a small clearing. Branches scraped the hull as they landed.
A crewman jumped out first and helped Tofi down, lifting him like a rag doll.
"Hurry, Hilia," barked Lujk. "We've got to move before the wardens pick us up."
Hilia gave the boy a quick pat on the shoulder and led him toward the edge of a ravine. Below, clinging to the cliffside, stood the crumbling remains of a building. The only way down was by a wooden staircase whose steps looked anything but safe.
"That's the vortex," said Hilia.
Tofi stared at the dizzying drop but followed the man anyway. Hilia descended with the confidence of one who had done it a hundred times. When they reached the bottom, Tofi saw the full extent of the ruins—a six-story structure of rusted beams and stone, its purpose long forgotten. Once it had served as a mining station where ore was processed and loaded into railcars. Now, only the corroded tracks remained, choked with weeds.
They had reached the smugglers' hideout.
Hilia walked ahead with his weapon drawn while Tofi trailed behind, too distracted by the ghostly machinery to keep up. The creak of metal echoed around them, and the boy couldn't help but marvel at the remnants of the past. A sharp whistle snapped him out of his reverie. He turned and saw armed men on the upper floors aiming their rifles down at him. Hilia raised both hands and shouted, signaling that they were allies.
They were escorted inside and brought before a man with sharp, slanted eyes, dressed in a leather jacket, scarf, and cap. After a brief exchange with Hilia, the man ordered that Tofi be taken to a nearby warehouse.
Inside stood a towering metal structure dominated by a massive ring connected to a web of cables leading to a humming control unit. At one end, a large telescope pierced through a hole in the roof, aimed at the dawn sky.
"This is a next-generation transporter," explained the elf with almond-shaped eyes. "The ring generates the vortex. You'll climb up there"—he pointed to a high platform—"and jump into the light. The beacon will send you through."
"I'm supposed to jump?" asked Tofi.
"Exactly. And brace yourself when you land on the other side."
"How will I know what I'm landing on?"
The elf smirked, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "That's for you to find out."
Before Tofi could protest, Hilia urged him forward. The boy climbed the ladder, step by trembling step, until he stood atop a narrow platform jutting over the ring. It felt more like a circus act than a technological marvel.
Below, the technician threw a series of switches. The generator rumbled to life with a growing whine. Sparks burst from the cables. The ring began to spin, faster and faster, until a swirling mass of light formed in its center—a vortex of blinding luminescence.
Tofi took a deep breath, gathered what courage he had left, and jumped.
He plunged into the glowing void. The computer registered the sequence and the beacon atop the structure fired, sending a beam of light upward, cutting through space and time.
The sensation was one of pure vertigo—a free fall through darkness. Then, a sudden surge, and Tofi was flung sideways, landing hard on the ground. He barely had time to react before two brilliant lights blinded him, followed by a deafening blast of a horn of a car.
Still dazed, he rolled instinctively to the side as the vehicle screamed past, missing him by inches. The rush of air burned his face as the car fishtailed wildly, regained control, and sped off down the road.
Gasping for breath, Tofi lay on the asphalt, heart hammering. He watched the red taillights vanish into the blackness. When he finally calmed down enough to stand, he realized the world around him was pitch dark. No stars, only clouds.
He started walking along the road, shivering. Thunder rolled in the distance—rain was coming. He trudged on for what felt like hours, until faint lights flickered ahead. A town, perhaps. Hope stirred in his chest.
As the first drops began to fall, a weathered sign loomed out of the dark. Tofi brushed the rain from its surface and read the words:
San Onofre di Monti – 25 KM
There was no doubt—he was in Utgard.
He resumed walking toward the distant lights, but as he rounded a bend that momentarily hid them from view, the horizon exploded. A blazing sphere of fire rose into the sky, followed by a thunderous shockwave that shook the earth. Tofi froze, terrified.
He dove into a thicket for cover as a car tore past him in the opposite direction—perhaps the same one that had nearly killed him minutes earlier.
Crouched among the bushes, he watched the infernal glow fade into the night. Whatever had just happened, one thing was clear: that explosion could only mean trouble—serious trouble.