Worlds Explode

“Where’s the boy gone?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” said Emmie. “Maybe there’s a third thing I should have mentioned. It’s about the crystals.”

A smile crept across her face as she held a palm up to display the red, dusty residue clinging to it. But she wasn’t holding a crystal. “There might have been three of them,” she said.

Estravon ran back towards the cave.

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“Shush, Yappy,” Finn begged the dog as he clambered over the mound at the cave entrance.

Yap, replied Yappy. Yap. Yap. Yapyapyap.

Pushing towards the darkness, Finn wished he hadn’t given his torch to Emmie. As any natural light became choked off, he had to trust his hands, the feel of the walls as they narrowed either side. His head scraped the roof of the cave, causing him to wince in pain.

In his pocket was the crystal that Emmie had shoved into his hand as they were leaving the cave. She had distracted Estravon while rounding the headland, and Finn had dashed back, the waves drowning out the clatter of the armour in his bag, but not the drumbeat of his heart in his ears.

Finn knew he would need to make this count. It was his only chance. He was going to try and open a gateway with the crystal. At least they would know there and then if it would work.

He felt the cave wall open up in front of him, sensed the sound suddenly released to bounce round the high roof of the chamber. He gripped the crystal tight, making sure he didn’t drop it in the near-total darkness.

As his eyes tried to adjust a little, Finn recalled what he had seen when Mr Glad had opened a gateway, the day his father disappeared. He remembered how Mr Glad had searched for a snag in the air on which to attach the crystal. Broonie had done the same thing, reaching up and scraping down an invisible divide until he found one and opened a way into the Infested Side.

From outside the cave, he heard Yappy yapping and Estravon shouting.

Hurriedly, Finn pushed the crystal into his palm. It felt sleeker than the dust coating suggested it would, a little greasy compared to the clear crystals he’d held before. Yet his grip felt more secure, and the crystal stayed in his hand so that he could relax it a little, hold it out flat and run his other hand down the empty air in search of something in nothing.

The scramble of feet coming through the cave grew louder; the intrusion of torchlight began to dance in the chamber.

Finn searched for a snag. No luck. He tried again. It still wouldn’t take.

Light flared fully into the room.

“This will all go in my report—” shouted Estravon.

“Wait!” Finn shouted. “I’ve got it.”

He had caught the crystal on something. Slowly, he spread his fingers and opened his palm to let the crystal go, while keeping the other hand cupped underneath, ready to catch it should it fall. But it didn’t budge from its invisible hook.

Under the white light of two torches, Finn could see the edges of the crystal become agitated, the smokiness accelerating inside. Where his skin met the crystal, it felt almost ticklish, as if it was writhing into position.

Briefly, he laughed at the impossibility of that while turning his head to Emmie, whose eyes were wide with encouragement. Estravon stepped between them, sporting a look of deep unhappiness. “That is not good,” the Assessor said. “That is not good at all.”

The tickle turned into a crackle on Finn’s palm. He moved his hand to separate it from the crystal, but it didn’t come away. His skin felt glued to the air.

Finn stopped laughing. “Erm, Emmie …” he said.

She stepped towards him, halting as the crystal sparked a little.

Finn felt heat flow through his right hand. With his left, he pulled at the stuck wrist, but couldn’t release it.

“What’s going on, Finn?” enquired Emmie, torch lighting up his panic.

The red crystal crackled, fizzed in his palm, like a trapped firework ready to explode.

“Put that crystal down,” demanded the Assessor.

“I can’t!” shouted Finn.

“Put. It. Down. Now.”

“I’m trying to!”

A judder of energy shot up his arm, through his torso, sparked through his backpack, wracking his body, contorting him, sending a shock through him so total he couldn’t even scream. It felt like his body had been taken hold of by an injection of fire into his shoulder, his chest, into every vein, every cell of his arm.

With the crack of a detonation, Finn was fired across the chamber and into the opposite wall. For a moment, he was out. Gone. As if he’d been switched off.

Then he jolted back into consciousness, winded, gulping for air. And his vision was dominated by a pulsating glow of red.

He shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emmie and Estravon standing rigid, gawping. But they weren’t looking at him.

They were looking at the great blood-red gateway Finn had opened in the cave.

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This gateway was different to any Finn had seen before. It wasn’t just that its colour was red when gateways were usually golden. It was the way the energy moved at its edges, grinding rather than groaning. It didn’t sparkle and flow, but writhed. Thick jagged tendrils poured back into the opening as if the gateway was consuming itself, feeding off its own energy. It was as if the effort of staying open caused it terrible agony.

Estravon looked like he couldn’t decide if he should be annoyed or astonished by this turn of events. “That. Is. Incredible,” he said, a palm to his forehead. “And terrible. And something I never thought I’d see in my lifetime. And you two are in so much trouble.”

Shading his eyes from the red light, Finn picked himself carefully off the ground and pushed away from the rock wall he had been flung against. He ached, but luckily his backpack had taken the force of the blow.

Emmie stepped forward to help him, but touching him sent a burst of static through her fingers, repelling her. “Well, that’s weird,” she said. “Are you OK?”

That was the truly strange thing. Right at that moment, Finn felt better than OK. He felt extraordinary. He felt wonderful. Amazing. Fantastic. Like nothing could ever hold him back again. It was a glimpse of perfection. Of ecstasy. Of strength he had never experienced before.

Then he felt really, really awful.

A headache hit him like a frying pan and he held his head because he felt it was about to explode. Or implode. Or both at the same time.