The glade was peaceful now. Riordan wasn’t sure how to feel about how at home he felt there, able to relax in the presence of a death tree spirit. It was like wanting to take a nap in a graveyard and feeling safer for the company of the dead. It wasn’t inherently bad or anything, just unsettling. He wouldn’t have felt that way before. His dead were unrestful things, memories filled with regrets and self-hate. He didn’t actually believe any of his old teammates ended up as ghosts, but they haunted him nonetheless.

Speaking of ghosts, Riordan glanced over at Daniel. The young man had surprised him by choosing to stay with Riordan. It made him feel happy, grateful, and overwhelmed. He wasn’t sure how to show Daniel how much his choice meant to Riordan, but hopefully he’d have enough time together to learn how to do better.

Returning to the tree’s clearing felt strange. Riordan belonged there and so did the tree. But Daniel had lost some of his connection to the place with the dissolution of the pack bond. Plus there was still that tear in the Veil, which Riordan wanted closed as soon as possible now. Nothing good could come out of that hole, especially once whatever temporary protective effect of the ritual’s draining passed. Of course, Riordan hadn’t the least idea how to close something like that. He barely managed to open and close the damned keyed gateway and that was embedded into his soul directly.

Thinking about his soul and how strange its state had become made Riordan nervous. He hardly knew what had happened to him and he’d been there for the whole process. What was anyone on the outside going to think of it?

Riordan tried to picture how the shaman of his old birth pack might react to Riordan were he to appear suddenly. All the markings on his soul spoke of the kind of magic that most people considered forbidden because its effects were too unpredictable. Playing around with the nature of a person wasn’t some light or easy subject. And then there was Riordan’s core and well. He was trying very hard not to think too hard about the state of those. He didn’t want to know, as if not looking could change the truth of it.

A query brushed the edges of Riordan’s self and he shivered. The tree spirit wasn’t malicious. Indeed, it treated him quite well for a spirit. But every time it meddled, Riordan came out changed on the other side. With its promotion to a greater spirit, the severity of the changes would only be all the more extreme. Whole large packs formed themselves around a greater spirit or a place of power. A personal relationship with such an entity was daunting.

Daunting or not, the spirit continued its query and Riordan had no ability to deny it access to his mind and answers. Whatever boost Frankie’s safeguard had given in such communication was gone and the spirit had grown all the more powerful. Frankly, it was a measure of the changes and strengthening of Riordan’s own soul that he could accommodate the conversation.

The spirit pulled Riordan’s fears and concerns from him. In true spirit fashion, it didn’t wait to consult Riordan about whether he wanted the spirit to resolve any of it. It merely questioned, learned, and then did what it thought best in light of its nature to fix those concerns.

First, the tear in the Veil began to close. The spirit withdrew its hold that had kept it open and let the wound between realms heal itself. That was great. Riordan was totally thrilled to see it closing, though he knew he’d never forget that place and the spirit still carried the stain of its influence.

Second, the spirit welcomed Daniel. Riordan wasn’t sure what to think of that, because what did welcome mean to a spirit? They had a bond in the black tattoo markings of the ropes that had once tied them. Daniel had already been changed by that, though Riordan couldn’t say to what effect. And now this? He wasn’t sure what the welcome meant, but he thought that it at least translated to Daniel being able to come and go from the tree spirit’s sheltered and mazed glade as he had done before. That was good. It meant that Daniel had a safe place to go for privacy, rest, safety, whatever else.

It also meant, however, that Daniel was entangled more closely with this increasingly volatile spirit. The ghost lacked any talent or strength to defend himself from its good intentions.

The last thing that happened was a weight settling over Riordan and, indeed, over Daniel and the whole forest around them. He felt like he was peering out from behind a funeral veil. Or a burial shroud. Things were… obscured. He hoped that meant no one could just looked at Riordan and read all of the changes that had occurred inside him. He also hoped that no one could just easily reach the tree spirit to use it in the future as Phenalope had once done. If a death ritual anchored on a decently powerful but indifferent nature spirit could be strong enough to make a demigod, what sort of effect would basing a ritual around a greater spirit of death and nature have?

Yeah, Riordan sure as hell did not want an answer to that question.

“What was all that?” Daniel whispered, unsettled and rubbing his arms as if chilled. There was no reason to keep quiet, but the strangeness and solemnity of the place certainly inspired it. Riordan also had no doubt that the spirit’s touch on Daniel had been disturbing in a way that was difficult to put into words.

“That was a spirit doing what it felt best to put affairs into order,” Riordan answered, looking around them. “I really hope it’s satisfied now and settles down. Trees aren’t really meant to be this active.”

“It touched me. Or talked to me. Or something. I can’t--” Daniel cut off, shaking his head. “I think I’m welcome here?”

“Yeah. That’s what it felt like to me too, from the outside. At a guess, that means you can continue to come and go from here. Which might be especially important depending on how solid that obscuring thing it just did was. You’ll have a safe place to retreat.”

Daniel shivered again, looking around. “I don’t know if hanging out here feels particularly safe. Even without all the bad memories, this place feels even more… alive than before. It’s like everything here, from the tree to the grass to those sparkles of light in the air, are all just watching me. I think it would drive me mad after a while.”

Riordan could feel the sentience and power of the place and the spirit it embodied. His reaction was somewhat different. Instead of being watched, it was more like being in the same room with someone while both did their own thing. He always knew they were there, but the passive company was familiar and soothing. He figured it had something to do with the fact that he was a shaman, possessing both shifter and spirit affinities that aligned him with this place. Daniel wasn’t a mage of any sort, even as a ghost. A place as magical as this had to feel intense.

“We should probably leave here,” Riordan said after another minute of quiet contemplation.

“How?”

Riordan shrugged. “I assume my spirit gateway still works like before. That should take us back to the physical side of things.”

Daniel nodded at that, but his gaze traveled around the glade and his body language practically screamed anxiety. “...What do you think happened out there?”

“I don’t know,” Riordan answered honestly. “I feel that I’m still alive, but I can also feel a tug now that means I’m healing. I wasn’t sure before with everything else going on. Phenalope is dead and the ritual is cleared up, but what damage was done to get there, I can’t even guess.”

“Nothing is going to be the same again, is it,” Daniel said. He phrased it as a question but said it as a statement of fact. Riordan merely nodded. Daniel sighed, looking from himself to the tree to Riordan. Then the young man squared his shoulders and set a broad smile on his face, “Well, I guess we better go find out. The world might be fucked, but we’re still here and kicking and proving we aren’t going down without a fuss. What more could we ask for?”

Once again, Riordan found himself in awe of Daniel’s sheer resilience. Riordan often lost himself in tangles of anxiety and self-recrimination, punctuated by periods of intense determination or righteous anger. He never felt stable. Daniel’s ability to bounce back in the face of utterly overwhelming circumstances gave Riordan hope. Maybe he’d be that solid some day.

Reaching inside of himself, Riordan touched the gateway. The void there didn’t feel empty anymore, not after staring into the strangeness of the place beyond the Veil. There had always been infinity in the visual representation of Riordan’s gateway, stars and nebulae and galaxies all floating in the endless space that was only a breath away. There were probably insights and parallels to be found there, between the spiritual gateways that guided travel between the spirit realm and the physical and the kind of worm hole gateways that science fiction stories used. All Riordan knew was that some voids were not characterized by their emptiness but by their vastness. He held the key to one such infinity inside him, a gift from a mother to a wayward child. He owed Mother Bear some proper thanks, for his own sake.

Without the casting safeguard, Riordan no longer needed to make gestures or say words to will the portal open, but he did it anyway. There was wisdom in tying intention to action in the reactive spirit realm. With time, perhaps he’d even get the hang of it like a real shaman. Wouldn’t that be a surprise.

Still, it was intention that Riordan used to wrap both himself and Daniel in the gateway, sending them back home. Riordan tumbled through the layers of realms and then slammed into his body and into blessed exhausted sleep.