Estelle kneeled and ran her fingertips over the scorched grass. "What the hell happened?"
Danica stopped Zephyr, settling the wyvern at the treeline, away from the burns. She raised her nose and sniffed delicately at the air. "Does anyone else smell metal?"
"Yes," Both Reave and Estelle replied. Estelle had noticed the strange tang in the air the closer they got to the burns. Reave leaned down next to Estelle, examining the black ground.
"Do you think it has something to do with this? I remember Mother mentioning a metallic taste in the air was a sign of magic in Prythian." He said.
"How the hell do you remember that?" Estelle turned to him, mildly surprised. Reave shrugged.
"I find the mundane facts interesting," He muttered. "Magic in Prythian is different than it is here. The Fae have different strengths and weaknesses, different forms of power."
Danica pushed off of Zephyr's side and walked over to join them. "Well, is this something of Prythian then, Reave?"
Reave straightened up and took a few steps back. Estelle joined him, her eyes narrowing as she tried to pick out shapes or writing amongst the ashes.
"I'm surprised we didn't see this from the sky, actually," Reave muttered. "The forest must have hidden it from wyvern's-eye view." He tilted his head. "Journey. Door."
Estelle glanced sidelong at her brother. "What?"
Reave pointed at the ground. "Door."
Danica and Estelle exchanged a glance. Danica shrugged, as if she was saying, I have no clue what he's saying, either.
"That's dirt, brother dear," Estelle said skeptically. Reave raised his head, scowling at the both of them.
"No, I mean-" He stopped, sighing. He grabbed Estelle's arm and pulled her to stand right beside him. He pointed at the ground. "Look. Really look. There are Wyrdmarks here, but they're very faint."
Estelle squinted against the bright sun beating down on them, trying to see what Reave did. Finally, after a moment or two, she began to make out the shapes he'd noticed. Wyrdmarks, burned straight into the dark Terrasen dirt.
"Journey. Door. Open." She whispered, following the line of magic writing as it formed a circle, about six feet in diameter. Her heart stuttered when she saw a mark she didn't recognize, directly across from them. "What does that one mean?" She pointed at it, and Reave followed her finger. His brows lowered to his eyes.
"I don't know," He said, walking over to it and kneeling down. He traced his finger through it, writing it into the ground. Just as his finger finished the last stroke, a cool breeze blew through them, sending the smell of burnt pines away for a moment. Estelle inhaled deeply, the scent of snow from the highest mountains filling her nose.
"Terrasen," Danica muttered, leaning to look over Reave's shoulder. "It means Terrasen." Estelle stopped at that.
"That's impossible," She breathed.
"Apparently not," Danica replied. She looked down again, and quick as a viper, slashed her foot through the mark, marring it. "Alright. We've found the Wyrdmarks. But do we know it's a Wyrdgate to Prythian?"
"Actually," Reave said, walking around the circle again, taking his time to follow the path the marks made. "I don't think it's meant to go Prythian."
"Then where? It's obviously a door of some kind," Danica said, pointing to the corresponding symbol. "It literally says so right there."
"It wasn't to Prythian," Reave repeated, his voice soft now. "It came from Prythian."
The three of them went silent. The whispers of the forest were the only sounds, the winds brushing the branches together and the animals and Little Folk of the woods speaking in the languages only they understood.
"That's impossible," Estelle said again. "The Night Court and the High Lords are the only ones with that knowledge, and they haven't come here in years."
"And why would they come here, rather than Orynth?" Danica mused.
"They wouldn't," Reave said simply. "It was someone else."
"The assassin?" Estelle asked. Reave shrugged helplessly.
"I have no idea. But I think it's obvious we have a World-Walker in Terrasen again."