Chapter Three: The Gate

After stowing a few science supplies, a boat in a bottle, and some math utensils into Carter’s backpack, we slinked down the upstairs hallway, past Mr. Wight’s classroom, my mind buzzing not with stolen objects, but with the memory of Layla actually speaking to me.

“So, what else do you think we should—” I stopped mid-sentence. Carter wasn’t beside me anymore. “Carter?”

I spun around. He was frozen a few feet ahead, staring at something I hadn’t even noticed before. Something I thought existed only in the edge of my imagination. The door.

Carter’s jaw was slightly open, eyes locked, unblinking. I stepped up next to him, and my gaze fell on the same scratch—barely visible, yet undeniable.

“This wasn’t here yesterday,” he muttered. “Where the hell did it come from?”

A faint pulse seemed to radiate from the oak, straight out of the tiny scratch in its center. My stomach clenched.

“I saw it yesterday,” I admitted, my voice low. “But it vanished before I could even blink. Thought I’d imagined it.”

“Well, clearly you didn’t,” Carter said, knocking lightly on the surface as if testing a trap. “A bright door like this definitely wasn’t meant to be here.”

I frowned. Bright? The wood looked like ordinary dark oak to me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, running a hand over the smooth grain. “It’s just… dark oak.”

Carter squinted, tilting his head, hand tracing the panels. “No. The color’s all wrong. It’s like molten bronze in some lights, streaked with fire that seems to crawl along the grain. Knots in the wood… they look like little eyes, watching. And the panels—they don’t sit straight. They twist and lean, like they’re ready to spring open on their own. You see dark oak,” he said, voice low, almost reverent. “I see something alive.”

Carter leaned closer, hand hovering just above the warped panels, as if he could coax the door into revealing its secrets. The faint pulse I’d noticed seemed to thrum stronger now, almost like a heartbeat beneath the wood.

“You feel that?” he whispered, eyes fixed. “It’s… waiting. I can’t explain it, but it’s waiting for someone to dare it.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers brushing the door’s surface. It was warm, almost unnervingly so, and the knots in the wood seemed to squirm in the corner of my vision. “It’s just… a door, Carter. You’re seeing things.”

He laughed softly, a low, dangerous chuckle that made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. “Maybe. Or maybe some things only show themselves to the right person.”

The air between us thickened. The hallway’s usual faint smell of bleach and chalk was gone, replaced by the sharp tang of something older—metallic, like sparks of fire trapped inside the wood. Carter’s fingers grazed the edge of the panels, and the door seemed to shift ever so slightly, leaning just a fraction toward him. I stepped back instinctively, heart racing. “Okay… that’s weird.”

Carter didn’t move. He just smiled, that same cocky grin that always made trouble look like fun. “Weird’s the fun part, rookie. Come on—let’s see what it’s hiding.”

And with that, he pressed down on the handle. The tiny scratch in the center pulsed once—like a heartbeat—before the door creaked open. The moment the gap widened, a burst of light flooded the hallway, so fierce we both shielded our eyes. It wasn’t just brightness; it was alive, humming in my skull, clawing at the edges of reality. When the glare softened and I dared to look again, my breath caught. The hallway was gone. Past the frame stretched an endless meadow, rolling hills of impossibly green grass swaying under a sky so blue it looked painted. The air shimmered with warmth, carrying the distant calls of unseen birds. In the distance, a herd of animals grazed lazily, their shapes half-familiar and half-strange, like creatures from a dream refusing to be named.

I blinked hard, rubbed my eyes, but the vision didn’t break. It only sharpened. The air even smelled different—wild, sharp with flowers and earth.

Carter’s jaw hung slack, his body taut with disbelief and thrill all at once. “Are you seeing this shit?” he whispered, his voice low, reverent, like he was afraid to spook it.

I nodded, though my voice barely found me. “Yeah… but I don’t think we’re supposed to.”

The longer I stared, the harder it was to breathe. The grass rippled like waves, but the motion was too precise, too synchronized, as if the entire field was exhaling in rhythm. Animals like sheep, cows, horses, goats, and deer grazed in the distance..

I swallowed hard. “Carter… Do you see this?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, though his voice was thick with something between fascination and fear. His fingers twitched against the doorframe, gripping it like he needed an anchor. And then I noticed it—the scratch. That faint little mark in the wood we’d both dismissed? It hadn’t stayed behind. It had bled through the threshold, stretching across the meadow like a thin seam in the air, flickering with light every time the grass bent toward it. For a second, I thought I heard something—a low hum, almost like chanting—but when I blinked, it vanished, swallowed by the rush of wind through the strange, too-perfect landscape.

Carter leaned forward, a grin tugging at his mouth despite the tension in his jaw. “I don’t care what this is. I’m going in.”

As soon as Carter crossed the threshold, his ripped jeans, black leather jacket, and white tee dissolved like smoke on the wind. In their place clung a long, heavy cloak, ink-dark and gleaming at the seams. He froze mid-step, spinning toward me with eyes blown wide, before dragging his gaze down his body.

“Holy shit, Charlie—are you seeing this?”

My throat went dry, but I still managed a shaky laugh. “You stripped and changed clothes in half a second?”

He shook his head in disbelief, then his expression morphed into one of reckless delight. “Forget stripped—I’m a damn wizard, Hagrid.” His grin was so sharp it almost cut. “Come on, let’s see if you turn into a half-giant.”

I rolled my eyes, snorting. “Oh, shut up.”

Still, I stepped through. The instant my foot crossed the line, something slammed into me—like my entire body had been yanked forward by an unseen current. My bones rattled, blood thundered through my veins, and my vision stuttered white for a second. When the world steadied, I staggered and glanced down. My clothes were gone too—replaced with robes so pale they almost glowed, the stark opposite of Carter’s midnight-black.

“What the hell…” The words barely left my lips.

I spun back, expecting the door to still be there, a safety net, a way out. Instead, all I saw was a dense treeline stretching endlessly behind us, shadows layered deep like teeth.

“Where’s the door?” Carter asked, his grin faltering into a frown.

My stomach dropped like stone. “It’s gone.”

Carter tugged at his cloak, and for a moment I thought the fabric shimmered—not just black, but laced with threads of crimson that pulsed faintly, like veins lit from the inside. His eyes caught the glow, and a crooked smile spread across his face.

“Okay… this is either the coolest trip of my life, or I’m dead and no one told me.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but then I noticed my own robes shifting. The pale fabric rippled like water, catching the sunlight in silver and gold, the edges fluttering though there was no breeze. My pulse quickened.

“Carter…” I whispered, holding out the sleeve. “They’re changing.”

He stepped closer, squinting. “Yours look like—hell, I don’t know—moonlight? Starlight? Something way too holy for you.” He smirked, but there was a nervous edge to it.

Before I could answer, the meadow around us seemed to respond. The grass leaned in our direction, like it was bowing. The sky shifted subtly darker at the edges, a creeping twilight pressing against the horizon.

Carter adjusted his cloak, straightening up with that cocky stance he always wore when he didn’t want me to see he was freaked out. “Guess the world knows who the main characters are,” he said lightly, though his voice betrayed a tremor.

I rolled my eyes and pushed forward into the endless green, my robes swishing at my ankles. “Come on, Gandalf. The sun’s already dipping, and I’d rather find a roof before some monster decides we’re on the menu.”

Carter jogged to catch up, his cloak snapping dramatically behind him like he was auditioning for the next superhero flick. “So what’s the game plan? Just wander until we trip over a hotel lobby?”

“Not exactly.” I slowed my pace, scanning the horizon as sheep and goats lifted their heads to watch us. “We don’t need a hotel. We need a shepherd.”

Carter arched his brow. “A shepherd?”

I nodded, lowering my voice as if the animals might understand me. “Where there are herds, there’s someone watching over them. And where there’s a shepherd, there’s food, shelter, and—more importantly—answers.” I glanced up at the darkening sky, where the first stars were beginning to bleed through the blue. “Because trust me, Carter, whatever shows up here at night… I don’t want to meet it.”

He swallowed, but his grin didn’t falter. “Well, shit. Guess we better hope these goats like to gossip.”

We climbed the hills, muscles burning from the steep incline, until a shaggy, weathered cottage came into view. Sheep and goats grazed lazily in a crooked fence beside it, and a couple of horses stamped their hooves, tails flicking at the flies.

“You think the bogeyman lives here?” Carter muttered, his voice low and mocking.

I shoved him aside and rapped my knuckles against the termite-riddled front door. The sound echoed hollowly, but no one answered. Frowning, I circled to the back, peering in through grimy windows. Empty.

Returning to where Carter leaned lazily against the rickety fence, I muttered, “No one’s here.” My words carried a mix of frustration, unease, and disbelief.

Carter shrugged, tossing a smirk over his shoulder. “Maybe we can Snow White this place, and the dwarf who lives here will let us crash.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not breaking into someone’s house. Who knows what—”

A thunder of hooves cut me off. Both Carter and I froze, our heads snapping toward the sound. A lone rider, cloaked and formidable, was galloping across the field on a black horse, coming straight for us.

“Well, genius, we’re dead,” Carter muttered flatly.

I squared my shoulders. “We’re only dead if we’ve done something wrong.”

Carter gave a pointed look at the rapidly approaching figure. “Yeah… good luck selling that.”

I pushed forward, heart hammering, silently praying the horse wouldn’t trample me. As the rider slowed to a stop in front of us, Carter cleared his throat, stepping slightly ahead like he was negotiating with a king.

“Hey, so, I know you don’t know why two random teenagers are at your house, but we just—”

I cut him off, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. “We’re lost, sir. We just need directions to the nearest city, hotel… anywhere we can stay until morning.”

The rider’s hood shadowed his face completely, but his gaze—keen, calculating, unnerving—pinned us in place. After a long moment, his voice came, deep and resonant, carrying across the hill like it belonged to someone far larger than himself. “You’re lost?”

We both nodded, the words catching in our throats. He dismounted, the horse tossing its head with a sharp whinny as the bit clamped between its teeth. I expected someone tall, broad, imposing—but the figure was lean, lithe, and moved with a calm, precise confidence that made my pulse quicken.

“You’re not from here,” the voice said, low, quiet, almost a statement rather than a question.

Carter and I froze. Somehow… he knew. Somehow he could see it.

He removed the saddle from the horse’s back, then paused mid-step and gestured to us. “Are you coming?”

We hurried after him into the cottage. The interior was warm and surprisingly cozy—wooden beams, soft lantern light, shelves lined with jars and trinkets. It smelled faintly of pine and herbs, homely yet foreign.

“You can never judge a place by its exterior in this land,” he said, darkly. He set the saddle and bridle on a rack, then turned to us. “How did you arrive?”

I glanced at Carter. Neither of us had a lie saved. “We were in… our world,” I said slowly. “When we saw a door. When we stepped through, our clothes vanished and were replaced by these.” I gestured to our robes. As I explained the rest, the hooded figure listened silently, nodding slowly.

“Of course,” the voice murmured. “It shouldn’t be possible…”

Carter frowned. “Wait… what did you just say?”

His gaze swept over us, sharp, piercing. “Centuries ago, it was foretold: our land would be cursed by the Wicked, and two boys would arrive from a distant realm. One would break the curse, the other would fight to preserve it. Mortal enemies, bound to the fate of this world.”

Carter and I exchanged a glance—best friends, inseparable. Then back at the hooded figure.

“That’s impossible, sir,” I said. “We’ve known each other forever. Nothing could turn us against one another. We’re not part of your prophecy.”

The figure shrugged. “I only note the coincidence. And why call me ‘sir’?”

Carter smirked. “Look, I don’t know what kind of world you’re from, but I call them how I see them, not by preference.”

He chuckled softly, almost a purr. “Brave—or perhaps foolish.”

Then he reached up. Slowly. Purposefully. Pulled back the hood. And the world shifted in a single moment.

Long ash-blonde hair tumbled across her shoulders. Electric blue eyes locked onto ours with piercing intensity. Skin pale as moonlight glimmered in the lantern glow. He wasn’t the man we thought at all—he had been a woman the entire time.

“I’m Snow,” she said, extending a black-gloved hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Carter’s jaw dropped. Naturally, he recovered faster than I did, sweeping forward with his usual flair. “The pleasure’s mine, princess. Carter Fisher.”

She laughed, a light, melodic sound that made the room seem warmer. “Princess? Hardly. My mother named me after a fairytale.”

I rolled my eyes at Carter’s theatrics and offered my own hand. “Charlie Greene.”

Snow tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her gaze. “Unusual names, both of you. I’ve never heard anything like them.”

Carter raised a brow, clearly ready with a quip—but this time he wisely held his tongue. “Where are we?”

“You’re in the land of Dromador.” Snow’s sharp eyes flicked between us, lingering long enough to make my stomach twist. Then she turned toward the small hearth crackling in the corner and knelt, stirring the flames with a thin iron rod. Sparks scattered, lighting up her pale face and glinting off her blue eyes.

“You must be cold,” she said softly. “The Threshold between worlds doesn’t take kindly to travelers. Sit.”

Carter didn’t need to be told twice—he dropped onto a bench, his eyes darting around like he was mentally mapping the exits. I stayed on my feet, uneasy.

Snow looked up from the fire, one brow arched. “You don’t trust me.”

“Would you?” I asked.

A hint of a smirk curved her lips. “No. I wouldn’t.”

The honesty disarmed me more than anything else could have. She stood, the hem of her cloak brushing the floor. “If you truly came through the Gate, then the world already knows you’re here. And not everyone who hears will wish you well.”

Carter leaned forward. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning the Wicked will come,” Snow said darkly, her voice low and certain. “They always do when prophecy stirs.”

“The prophecy again,” I muttered. “You really think we’re part of that?”

Snow’s gaze softened just a fraction. “The Threshold doesn’t make mistakes. If it brought you here, then it has its reasons.”

Carter barked a half-laugh. “Right. A threshold that thinks. Wicked witches, glowing doors. What’s next, a talking rabbit with a vendetta?”

Snow’s expression didn’t shift, though her eyes seemed to glint brighter. “You’d do well not to mock what you don’t understand. In this world, even laughter carries.”

The fire popped, casting long shadows that danced like restless spirits across the wooden walls.

I swallowed, pulse quickening. “So what do we do now?”

Snow regarded me for a long moment before answering. “Now, you rest. At dawn, I’ll take you to the Oracle. She will decide if fate’s chosen you—or cursed you.”

Carter’s grin faltered. “Fate?”

Snow gave a single, solemn nod. “And if the prophecy’s true, fate’s already watching.”

At her words, the flames leapt higher, flaring gold and blue, and for a heartbeat, I swore I saw something in the fire staring back.

“You two can sleep in here,” Snow said, gesturing toward a modest room tucked just off the main hall. A single bed sat pushed against the wall, a narrow couch opposite it, and a nightstand between them with an old gas lamp burning low, its light flickering amber across the wood-paneled walls. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to leave.”

Before either of us could thank her, she slipped out, her cloak trailing like smoke behind her.

Carter stepped in first, eyeing the room as if it might sprout fangs.

“Cozy,” he muttered, then plopped onto the couch. “You think the portal thing let me keep my briefs, or am I stuck sleeping in wizard robes tonight?”

A snort escaped me before I could stop it. “For your sake, I hope so. I’m not dealing with your heatstroke in the middle of the night. You don’t have to take the couch, though. I can.”

Carter waved the offer away, reclining with one arm behind his head. “Nah. I’ve had worse. Besides,” he added, his tone quieter, more serious, “something tells me our sleeping arrangements are the least of our problems tonight.”

That uneasy pull in my gut twisted tighter. He wasn’t wrong.

I sank down onto the bed, the mattress creaking beneath my weight, and rubbed my palms together. “Carter?”

He shifted, eyes half-closed. “Yeah?”

“Do you think… we’re stuck here?”

For a long moment, all I could hear was the soft hiss of the gas lamp and the wind pressing against the cottage walls.

“I don’t know, Charlie,” he said finally, voice low. “But… would it really be so bad if we were?”

His question caught me off guard. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Would it be so bad? What exactly was waiting for us back home—besides worried parents and the same dead-end routines?

I lay back against the pillow, the faint scent of pine and ash filling my nose, and stared up at the low wooden ceiling. Shadows from the flickering lamp wavered across the beams like restless ghosts. Somewhere beyond these walls, a wolf howled. The sound rolled across the hills, long and haunting, and I wondered—not for the first time—what tomorrow would bring. And if tomorrow ever meant finding our way back home.