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— Vacation at Mash's. A brilliant idea. A week in the forest with people, one of whom thinks "sore muscles" are the highest form of enemy magic, and the other is Dot Barrett! Thank you for the trust placed in me.
— Lance, — Director Wahlberg sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. — This isn't a punishment, it's an opportunity. Fresh air, team building…
— Barrett and I are not a team, — Lance objected coldly. — We have a temporary truce, which he breaks on average three times a day.
— Exactly! This is a recommendation from Orter Madl himself: you, as outstanding Adler students, need to learn to cooperate. Mash is the perfect mediator. He's like neutral territory.
Lance bit his lip. Images flashed through his mind: Dot trying to "improve" magical training dummies with explosive runes; Dot accidentally setting historical scrolls on fire with a "not-so-serious spark"; Dot, Dot, Dot, his eternal, restless antithesis. And on top of that, Mash.
But he couldn't refuse. Everyone had been sent home — Lemon went to her parents, Finn was taken by his brother, his own parents… well, definitely not an option. All that remained was loneliness in the empty dormitory, which the director firmly rejected, and Mash.
In the end, Lance stood by the portal with the look of someone being sent to clean public toilets with a toothbrush. Next to him, Barrett was fidgeting, nervously fiddling with something in his robe pocket.
— What a lovely vacation: in the middle of the wilderness and in the company of a savage, — said Lance, adjusting the locket with Anna's portrait. His sister's smile was his only consolation in this madness.
Dot got fired up.
— Fine, your attitude toward me is clear, pretty blue-eyed boys like you can't stand real heroes in your midst! But what do you have against the forest? Do you know how much you can blow up in a forest?
— If you blow up even one tree, Barrett, I will personally stuff you into a black hole. Let's go already.
The portal before them flickered blue. Lance stepped through first, feeling the familiar magical coolness of space enveloping him. Dot jumped in after, and at that moment, a small shiny ball fell from his pocket, followed by a second, a third…
— Oops, — was all Dot said.
The ball touched the floor of the portal tunnel.The world twisted. The blue vortex was replaced by orange spirals, the refined magic stopped working, and Lance was thrown against a wall of light. He heard Dot's scream — not scared, but rather delighted — and then everything crumpled like a sheet with a failed test.
Air. The first thing Lance felt. Damp, thick air, so unlike the atmosphere of Easton Magic Academy. He opened his eyes and saw the sky. Unusually blue, without a single cloud.
— Wow! — came a voice from the right.
Lance turned his head. Dot was sitting in the bushes, admiring a bright green dragonfly with delight. His robe was covered in dust and leaves, his hair sticking out in all directions, though it wasn't much better before the portal explosion. Lance shuddered at the sight of the insect, but the dragonfly took off from the blade of grass and disappeared.
— Where are we? — asked Lance, trying to stand up. His whole body ached. Good thing his wand wasn't lost and was lying nearby. Lance reached for it and went cold.
— I don't know what kind of place this is, but it's awesome! Look at this thing, hey, Lance!
— Barrett, enough with the awesome things! This is all because of you and your stupid explosives, wasn't a wand enough for you? Look carefully, we're not at Mash's, and not in Easton. God knows where we've been thrown, and the worst part is…
— So what? We're on vacation, after all. It's an adventure!
— This isn't an adventure, it's a disaster. The worst part is there's no magic here! Can you feel it? No energy! The wand is useless! We're helpless! And all because you stuffed your pockets with some dangerous junk and didn't even think about safety! Bringing bombs into a portal, is there really nothing in your shaggy red head?
Lance's face, usually pale and impassive, was blotchy with anger, and on his left cheek stood out a clear black smudge of soot from the explosion.
— Ha, the pretty boy turned into a mess, — Dot burst out laughing, as if ignoring the insults. He got up and stepped toward Lance.
— Don't come near me, — Lance snapped, but Dot had already reached out, took him by the chin, turned his cheek toward himself, and with a quick, light motion wiped away the smudge. He paused, as if evaluating his work, then hastily stepped back.
— There, clean and perfect again, — said Dot, his ears turning red. — Now stop lecturing. We'll figure it out, like it's your first time.
Lance froze. He felt his cheek burning, and the hot air wasn't the reason.
— Oh-ho-ho! What a touching scene!
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once. A man appeared from behind the trees. Tall, in a tight scarlet suit, with hair the color of the sea and a crazy smile. The stranger glided over the ground as if not walking, but floating. Behind his back was a narrow curved board.
— My dear Langa, — he purred, stopping in front of Lance. — Did you find yourself a new skating partner and change your image? Forgot about the bond between us? Decided to leave our little paradise?
Lance looked at him with an icy gaze, expressing nothing but irritation. First Barrett, now this…
— I don't know who you are, or who Langa is. Step aside.
— Oh! — The stranger put a hand to his chest and twitched several times in ridiculous convulsions. — My Snow has turned into an icicle! My heart is bleeding. Do you no longer like your Adam, my dear Eve?
Dot, whose ingrained etiquette rules had been thrown out by this spectacle, stepped forward and placed himself between Lance and the strange man.
— Hey, clown! Are you blind and deaf? He said he doesn't know you. And I don't know you. Get lost, show-off!
The stranger slowly turned his gaze to Dot, and his deep ruby eyes narrowed.
— What's your name, match-head, Reki… Bold, foolish Reki. Do you fancy yourself a hero? A protector? — He laughed, and the laughter sounded like breaking glass. — I'll turn you into confetti in the next race.
— Try it, — Dot bared his teeth. — No idea who Reki is, but if he annoys you, then he's a smart guy, and he'll make you eat dirt himself.
At that moment, a rumble came from the other side, and two more people rolled out on the same strange boards as the stranger — a shaggy red-haired guy in a bright hoodie and a tall, pale youth with blue hair; there wasn't a single magic line on their faces. The newcomers braked, staring at the strange group.
— Adam? What's going on? — asked the redhead.
— And who are they? — asked the second, looking at Lance and Dot.
An awkward pause ensued. Adam looked back and forth. His flawless mask cracked.
— Two… Langas? Eves… — he whispered. — Two Rekis?
— It's a long story, — said Dot, still not taking his eyes off the crazy Adam. — But in short: we're not them. We're lost.
Adam took a step back. His gaze darted between the two very similar pairs. Finally, he laughed again, but this time the laugh held the interest of a predator finding new prey.
— Intriguing… Very intriguing. Alright. Today I'll retreat — only to return with open arms! But we'll meet again… doubles. Ha!
He darted back, grabbed his board, and dissolved into the shadow of the trail, as if he'd never been there.
The redhead exhaled.
— Wow! He didn't even touch you. Usually… well, anyway, you handled him coolly. By the way, I'm Reki.
Meanwhile, his friend rolled closer, carefully examining the dark robes of the Adler students.
— Hi, I'm Langa. Are you… from some festival? Cosplay?
Lance rolled his eyes. A festival. Lance Crown, one of the Divine Visionaries, mistaken for a costumed actor. Anger gave way to a dull, hopeless fatigue.
— I'm Lance Crown, this is Dot Barrett. We're from another world, — he said. — A world with magic. Our portal broke. We were thrown here, but we need to get back.
Reki and Langa exchanged glances. The silence dragged on. Dot thought they'd call for help now, because if someone like them appeared in their world… But instead, Langa cautiously asked:
— Another… world? Like, isometric? Or parallel?
— I'm not familiar with your terminology, — Lance replied tiredly. — But yes. We're not from here. Our clothes, our abilities… or lack thereof now. It's all because we're strangers here.
Reki scratched the back of his head.
— Well… your costumes really are awesome. Such details! And the robes… are they real? — He touched the sleeve of Lance's robe. — And you speak very confidently. Like actors who are really into their roles.
— It's not a role, — Dot said sharply. — Lance doesn't know how to act. He's always like this — a bore in a robe. But I could be the main character, only I can't do it here.
He clicked his fingers in frustration, clearly expecting a flash. Nothing. Langa watched with scientific interest.
— You're both very convincing, — he finally said. — And your story is too strange to be a lie. People usually lie about amnesia or losing their documents. And you don't seem crazy. Well, almost. Let's start with finding you a place to stay. And then… we'll figure it out.
The storage room with gardening supplies smelled of earth, plants, and, for some reason, smoke — the latter was apparently the calling card of the owner, whom Reki introduced as Shadow. Shadow himself, a man in a terrifying costume and equally scary makeup, bustled around the room, carrying out boxes and flowerpots.
— Just don't crush my flowers! They're so delicate!
— I wasn't going to, — Dot said offendedly. — What am I, some kind of barbarian? They're very beautiful.
Shadow snorted.
Lance sat on a small weeding stool, examining the battered locket in his palm. Inside the miniature, Anna smiled, the person around whom Lance Crown's universe revolved. With a quick movement, he pried out his sister's portrait, removed it from the frame, and put it in his pocket.
— We don't have your money, — he said to Shadow. — But this is silver and opals. That should cover a few days.
He handed over the locket. Shadow took it, turning it over in his hands.
— Hm… That'll do. I'll bring food later. But the flowers…
— We're not touching the flowers, — Lance sighed.
Shadow left, muttering something about "crazy kids."
Langa showed Lance a small brazier — the daytime heat could easily give way to a fairly cold night.
— Tell us about your world, — Reki asked, handing out cans of soda. — Is there really magic there?
Dot perked up.
— There is! I'm a really cool mage, for example! Look…
He waved his wand. Nothing happened. His face fell.
— Ah… it doesn't work here.
— My family magic is related to gravity, and I'm generally good with physics, — said Lance.
— Sounds like the basis for a cool trick, — Langa said thoughtfully. — Imagine reducing your weight before a jump…
— Or increasing it to gain more speed down a hill, — added Reki.
Lance looked at them. These two, devoid of magic, thought in its categories as freely as he did. They saw in power a possibility for movement.
— Aren't you afraid of magic? — he asked.
— What's to be afraid of? — Reki grinned widely. — It's just another skill, a really cool one! Like skateboarding. At first you can't do it, then you learn.
Dot laughed.
— I could do it from the start! From the first explosion! So, what's a skate?
The conversation gradually livened up. Shadow, returning with bags of food, listened to them as he set out boxes of noodles on an improvised table made from an old package.
— Great attention to detail, — he grumbled, nodding at the mages. — They know their roles. Made up a whole universe.
— I believe them, — Langa said quietly to him. — They're not making it up on the fly. Everything's too consistent. And they look at our boards like artifacts from another planet. Fakers can't do that.
Snorting, Shadow left.
Night slowly fell over Okinawa. The storage room smelled of smoke, plants, and noodles. Four teenagers from different worlds talked about the fear of falling, the joy of speed, and how great it is to have someone to back you up.
The night really was cold, how the flowers survived here was a mystery. The wind found every crack in the old window frames, and Dot, despite all his explosive energy, curled up on the thin mattress, his teeth chattering. Lance heard the sound. He was looking out the window, through which he could see the stars of a foreign world forming unfamiliar constellations. For some reason, a picture surfaced in his memory: Reki taking off his hoodie and draping it over Langa's shoulders before they left. A simple, non-magical gesture of care.Lance clenched his jaw, fighting an internal battle with years of habit of keeping distance. Then, abruptly, almost roughly, he opened his robe.
— Barrett. Move over.
— What? — Dot grumbled discontentedly, busy trying to warm up.
Lance, without explaining, covered them both, then, overcoming the final barrier, turned on his side and pulled Dot to him, hugging him from behind. Dot shivered in surprise, froze for a moment, then his body, tense from the cold, gradually relaxed.
— Be quiet, don't move, — Lance ordered quietly into the back of his head, feeling the shivering in Dot's body slowly subside. — It's just survival.
— I know all about your survival… — Dot mumbled, already almost asleep, instinctively pressing his back against the source of warmth. His breathing became even. Lance lay there, listening to that rhythm, and the thought that he, Lance Crown, was warming someone up didn't seem so absurd to him. Anna would definitely praise him for such care.
The following days fell into a strange but surprisingly orderly rhythm. Reki, Langa, and Shadow came almost every day, bringing food, "simpler" clothes (so as not to stand out), and persistently offering to "master the basics." "The basics" meant skateboards.The idea of returning home never left Lance for a second. While Dot, with the zeal of a novice, tried to stand on a board under Reki's watchful guidance, Lance and Langa discussed theory. He tried to explain the principles of spatial magic, portals, stabilization. Langa listened, asked questions, and then drew diagrams.
— So, you need an energy strike at a weak point in space?
— Yes. And if I can still feel the point of contact, the strike requires magic. And there's none here.
Meanwhile, Dot, red from effort and falls, finally rode a few meters without crashing and cheered.
— See, I can do it, Reki! Easy! Almost like flying on a broom!
Reki laughed. No, Dot was definitely from some other world.
— That's a start! Let me show you how to turn. And then you can learn jumps!
The days passed, and Lance caught himself noticing that their desperate situation was beginning to take on the semblance of an ordered life. He and Dot argued, but without the former venom. More like partners searching for a solution to the same problem.
One evening, Lance asked:
— Aren't you afraid we'll bring you trouble?
Langa looked at him carefully.
— If you mean Adam… well, he hasn't shown up yet, and let's hope it stays that way.
— And what trouble could you be, you're one of us, — Reki added.
The word "one of us" hung in the air. Lance felt something tighten in his chest. He'd never felt like "one of us" even in his own world. A Divine Visionary is always someone set apart from the majority by his power and responsibility.
Dot looked at him and grinned.
— Hear that, Crown? We're one of us. You can relax.
The idea for returning came, oddly enough, from Shadow. Catching Lance drawing diagrams of spatial vectors on seed order forms, he huffed for a long time.
— Speed and explosion, you say… — he muttered, examining the diagrams. — So how are your magical strikes different from my passes? I sometimes have firecrackers with such a twist… Bang — and a hole in the air. A small one, and not for long, though.
Lance stared at him.
— Say that again.
— Well, I'm saying, sometimes, if you're really lucky and the firecracker is from the right batch… after the explosion, there's this shimmer for a second. Like a heat haze. Thought it was a vision glitch, but it sounds like what you're describing.
— That could be a microportal, — Lance said thoughtfully. — A weak spatial rift from a sudden energy release at speed. Shadow, you're a genius!
— Me? — Shadow jumped back as if accused of a crime. — I'm nothing! Just observant!
— But Shadow's right! — Langa joined the conversation, approaching with Dot and Reki. — We can try. If we send you down the old track, set off an explosion at the right moment, in the right place…
— And explosion is my department, — Dot declared, rubbing his hands. — Just need the right firecrackers, the most powerful ones.
Shadow, who had befriended Dot over pyrotechnics, smirked.
— The most powerful, you say… I've got some, saved for a special occasion, in case I had to race Adam. Looks like Adam will have to wait.
The plan was insane but worked out to the smallest detail. Langa and Lance calculated everything: the starting point, the required speed, the moment of the jump. Dot was supposed to accelerate on the skateboard (Reki had taught him in a week at least not to fall on a straight section), fly into the calculated zone, and on signal throw a bundle of firecrackers specially selected by Shadow. The theory stated: the combination of high speed and a pinpoint explosion could create a spatial rupture.
— Remember everything? — Lance spoke to Dot, recounting the firecrackers. — The explosion must happen exactly at peak speed, the moment I feel the matter vibrate and give the signal. Not earlier, not later.
— I remember, I remember, — Dot adjusted the helmet gifted by Langa. — I'm not a complete idiot.
— Debatable, — Lance muttered, but there was no anger in his voice, only worry.
— Barrett… be careful.
Dot looked up at him in surprise, then flashed a cocky grin.
— Don't worry, Crown. Heroes don't die!
Reki and Langa stood nearby. Langa held a stopwatch and a flag — he was to control the timing for Lance's entry.
— If the portal opens, with the power of Shadow's arsenal you'll have about ten seconds, — Langa repeated his calculations. — Lance, will you have time to jump in after him?
— He'll make it, — Dot said confidently and looked at Lance. — Right?
Lance nodded. There was no time for doubt. He put his hand on Dot's shoulder for a second — a short, awkward gesture of support.
— Right.
At Reki's signal, Dot pushed off. The first meters were shaky, but then gravity and the steep slope did their job. The board rushed downward with a frightening hum. The wind whistled in his ears, tightening his throat. Dot crouched as Reki had taught him, forgetting everything but the speed, the numbers in his head, and the feeling of Lance's gaze following him.
Lance, standing at the edge, concentrated. He searched inside for the elusive feeling — the memory of magic, an echo of home. He pictured the shady forests of Easton, the smell of pine, the cold stone walls, Anna's smile… And he felt it. A point of tension, trembling in the air right in front of the speeding Dot.
Lance waved his hand as if he could still manipulate reality. Langa started the stopwatch and simultaneously waved a huge black-and-white flag. Dot noticed the flag and, without thinking, threw the smoldering bundle forward, to the sides of himself.
The world exploded in light and sound.
The fireball didn't scatter but seemed to compress into a single point, and then the air in front of Dot shimmered, sparkled, and tore apart with a dull thud, opening a glowing, unstable blue abyss. Beyond it, as if in a fog, familiar outlines of a forest were visible, a different light, a different sky.
Dot, without slowing down, flew into the portal. Lance jumped powerfully onto the track and rushed after him, taking his last steps on Okinawan soil. At the last moment, he turned around. He saw Reki and Langa lowering the flag, he saw Shadow shouting something, waving his arms, and then suddenly throwing some small, shiny object in his direction.
Then the blue engulfed him, and the familiar smell of magic and pine hit his nose, mixed with the smell of smoke and the sea.
After the portal collapsed, absolute silence fell on the track. Even the wind died down. Reki and Langa stood for a long time, peering into the emptiness.
— Well… — Reki was the first to break the silence, brushing away strange moisture from his face. — Home? — he tried to smile, but the smile came out crooked, strained.
Langa didn't answer. He was looking at the spot where their strange guests had disappeared, his face pale and serious. Then, without a word, he stepped toward Reki, took him by the shoulders, pulled him close, and hugged him tightly, burying his face in his shoulder. Reki froze for a second in surprise — Langa was rarely the initiator of such obvious gestures. But then he wrapped his arms around his back, squeezing as if afraid he'd be swept into some portal too.
— Hey, — Reki said softly, feeling how tense Langa's muscles were. — It's okay. They made it. I can feel it.
— I know, — Langa's voice was muffled by the fabric of his hoodie. — It's just… it was… Magic. Another universe. And they left.
— Yeah, — Reki sighed. — But they were here, and we helped them. That's cooler than any race.
Finally, Langa took a deep breath and stepped back, but his hand slid down to catch Reki's hand and intertwine their fingers.
— Let's go home, — Langa said quietly.
— Yeah, — Reki smiled, this time genuinely. — Training tomorrow, by the way. I got used to those guys, it'll be boring without them.
— It won't be, — Langa objected. — They gave us a bunch of ideas. We just have to figure out how to make magic real. After all, we managed it this time.
And so, without letting go of each other's hands, they walked home, leaving behind the empty track and the explosion that had, for a time, made their universe bigger and themselves even closer to each other.
— We made it! It worked, Lance!
They lay on the soft grass at the edge of the familiar forest. The portal closed silently, leaving only a ripple in the air.Dot was the first to get up, brushing Okinawan sand and pine needles off his robe. He took off his helmet, pulled out his wand, and sent a chain of exploding flashes into the sky with a triumphant shout.
— HOORAY! I told you! Speed and explosion! It works!
Lance sat up, looking at the object that had flown out of the portal with them and now lay on the grass. Then he took Anna's portrait from his hidden pocket, picked up his locket from the grass, and secured the image back in its place.
— Returned it, — Lance said quietly.
— Who? Oh, our kind host in killer makeup? — Dot dropped down beside him, snorting, but there was no mockery in his voice. — Told you, he's not so bad. A guy who understands explosions so well and cares so much about flowers can't be bad!
Lance continued to sit, eyes closed, breathing deeply. He felt the magic of the world slowly filling him, washing away the feeling of emptiness and helplessness. It was like returning home after a long, exhausting journey. Now everything was in its place. Almost.
They silently walked along the path. Mash's house appeared before them, exactly as they would have seen it a couple of weeks ago — unassuming, sturdy, with smoke rising from the chimney. But now they looked at it with different eyes.
— You know, — said Dot, stopping at the edge of the clearing. — It's kind of like our storage room.
— And its owner is also magicless, — added Lance.
The door opened before they could approach. Mash stood on the threshold in a pink apron. In one hand he held a dish full of golden cream puffs, in the other — a half-eaten pastry. Chewing thoughtfully, he looked at the visitors.
— You're late for dinner. And by a whole week. Or two? Cream puffs should be eaten fresh.
Dot, slightly bowing his head, said:
— I apologize for the trouble. Our journey turned out longer than expected.
His tone was uncharacteristically polite, without the usual cheekiness. Mash shifted his gaze to Lance. He shrugged.
— Yes, we… got a little lost.
Mash stepped back, inviting them in.
— Come in. Dad will be glad my friends aren't a figment of my imagination after all.
Inside, it smelled of baking and just a little — of magic. It was the smell of home. Just home.
While Mash busied himself by the stove, and his delighted father, wiping away tears of emotion, brewed tea, Dot and Lance sat down at the solid wooden table. Their eyes met. And without words, they both thought the same thing: about the table made from a crate and planks in the old gardening storage room, where they had shared noodles and soda with two guys so similar to them, who had nothing magical about them.
Mash set plates of pastries and a steaming teapot in front of them. He sat down opposite and paused his chewing.
— So, where were you?
Lance and Dot exchanged glances. Where to start? How to explain? About the portal, the world without magic, skateboards and pyrotechnics, and the guys on unusual boards with wheels?
— We… got lost, and then stayed with friends, — Lance finally said, and the word sounded strange and right at the same time. — In a very unusual place far from here.
— Yeah, — Dot picked up, his eyes lighting up. — Those guys had no magic at all! Can you imagine? But they're still awesome. The things they can do… They practically fly! They… taught us something.
Mash chewed, nodding with the same expression as if they were talking about new ab exercises.
— Sounds like good friends. Reliable.
Lance pushed his plate away.
— Thanks for the pastries, Mash. You undoubtedly have a talent for confectionery. Especially considering you achieve such results without magic.
— You've changed, — Mash said suddenly.
Lance flinched.
— Is it that noticeable?
— Yes. And him too. You argue and yell at each other less.
— We learned to communicate differently, — Lance admitted, and it was one of the hardest admissions of his life.
Mash nodded as if he'd expected that.
— Good. Now you can rest. And tomorrow… — he thought. — Tomorrow we can go to the river. It's quiet there. Or if you want, we can make more cream puffs.
— Cream puffs are power, — Dot agreed with a full mouth, then suddenly perked up and asked: — Hey, Mash, do you even know what a skate is?