Simply gone. The hail stopped. The deluge ceased. The wind died. The night fell still and silent but for a soft hissing sound.

For a few moments Chloe mentally tallied her bruises, refusing to move. Moving would mean acknowledging she was alive. Acknowledging she was alive would mean she’d have to look around. And frankly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Ever. Thoughts were colliding in her head, all of them impossible.

Come on, Zanders, get a grip, the voice of reason endeavored valiantly to assert itself. You’re going to feel downright silly when you look up and see Gwen and Drustan standing there. When they say “Gee, don’t you hate it when a storm comes up so fast? But that’s how they are in the Highlands.”

She wasn’t buying it. She wasn’t certain of much at the moment, but she was pretty darned certain storms like that didn’t happen, in the Highlands or anywhere else, and furthermore, she didn’t hold out much hope that Gwen and Drustan were anywhere nearby. Something had happened in those stones. Just what, she couldn’t say, but something . . . epic. Something that reeked of a kernel of truth secreted in ancient myths.

After a few more moments, she drew her arms back and peeped cautiously out. Rain poured from her hair, dripping down her face. She braced her palms on the ground and suddenly understood what the hissing noise was.

The earth was warm, as if it had been sun-heated all day, and the pellets of hail were steaming on it. How could the ground be warm? she wondered, baffled. It was March, for heaven’s sake, and forty-degree weather didn’t heat the soil. Even as she thought that, she realized the air was warm, now that the heavens had stopped dumping a small icy flood on her. Humid and positively summery.

Gingerly, she raised herself up a few inches and glanced about, only to discover she was swathed in a cloud. While she’d huddled, a thick soupy fog had surrounded her. She was completely walled in by white. It made the already eerie situation even spookier.

“D-Dageus?” Her voice quavered a little. She cleared her throat and tried again.

If she was still in the circle of stones—and she was beginning to think that might be A Very Big If—she could no longer see them. The fog consumed everything. It was like being blind. She shivered, feeling horribly alone. The past few minutes had been so bizarre that she was beginning to wonder if she’d not . . . well, she wasn’t sure what she was beginning to wonder, and would rather not wonder it.

Some people say they’re portals . . .

She scooped at the fog with her hand. Condensation beaded on her palm. It was thick, dense stuff. She blew at the white air in front of her. It didn’t puff away.

“H-hello?” she called, feeling frantic.