Elayra exhaled through her nose at Ghent’s statement. “You [i]think,[/i] Featherhead?” She rolled her eyes and carefully shouldered the pack she still carried, freeing both of her hands. If something went awry, she wanted to have full mobility without having to abandon it. With their luck, this was bound to end badly.
	Elayra watched Ghent intently as he placed a hand on the metal of the gate where its two sides met, creating a thick bar down its center.
	Beneath his fingers, the ironwork was surprisingly warm, even for the mild weather surrounding them. It glistened with morning dew, his touch disrupting the minuscule droplets. If he focused hard enough, though the pulse of the light had extinguished, what little magic remained imbued in the gate still thumped through it, giving it an aura of something somewhere between alive and inanimate.
	Elayra looked away from him only to cast Drust a quick glance. His eyes bore into Ghent, the colors of the Curse entwining with a pleading hope. He held his breath, his fists clenched at his sides.
	She looked between him and Ghent. If the featherhead [i]did[/i] mess this up, it could cause more damage than he imagined.
	“Drust,” she began. Despite her soft volume, her voice sounded loud in her ears in the quiet that had fallen around the gate. “Maybe we should—” She moved to jerk her head to indicate they should move, but Drust interrupted.
	His head twitched fractionally toward her, his face twisting in a silent snarl. “Quiet, girl,” he snapped, his voice as low as Elayra’s.
	She frowned, but her mouth snapped shut as his neck twitched and the black lines snaking from the corner of his eyes gave a warning pulse. She slowly turned her attention back to Ghent, wondering if he was having difficulties connecting with Wonderland’s magic.
	At first, the gentle, tingling sensation of magic flit about Ghent. The harder he reached out to it, the more it danced around him, almost toying with him. If Earth’s magic was an eager puppy, then Wonderland’s was an old bloodhound sniffing out the newest member of the household. A household that had had its doors locked and curtains pulled over the windows for far too long. Curious, yet cautious. Willing, yet tentative. 
	Then, the old bloodhound decided.
	The world’s magic wrapped fully around Ghent, the gentle tingle turning into a warm shock somewhere between comforting and unpleasant to an unsuspecting soul. It welled inside him, filling him with its ancient presence from the soles of his feet to top of his head. Listening, waiting for Ghent’s guidance.
	When it received no immediate requests or orders, it grew agitated, its warmth turning into an irritated electric heat that swelled in his chest and brushed over his skin, making the hairs on his arms stand on end beneath the sleeves of his hoodie. It had better things to do than wait around for a novice to gather his nerves.
	[b]“CONRARE!”[/b]
	Ghent’s shout echoed off the metal of the gate. The moment the word left his mouth, a misty light a swirling mix of gold and silver burst to life around his hand, leaving only a faint silhouette of his fingers within its center. In the blink of an eye, it looked as if the thin crack between the sides of the gate absorbed the power. It shot down the crack toward ground and arch, setting it aglow and spitting off an occasional silver or gold spark.
	When the light reached its destination, with a small explosion of color, it dispersed through the ironwork. It vanished, only to be replaced by the same mysterious shimmer that had passed over the gate at Drust’s show of force. Only this time, it looked as angry as a shimmer could look.
	The gemstone heart at the crest of the arch ignited a pink that quickly turned red. Before any of the trio could so much as gasp, with a deep [i]whoomp[/i] just barely in their hearing range, a rush of transparent energy surged from the gate.
	“Elay—!” Drust tried to reach out to his closest charge, to pull her to him, but he did not get the chance. The force of the energy sent the unusual companions flying off their feet and a couple yards back down the weed-choked path.
	Elayra tried to turn midair to avoid landing on her back. Instead, she hit, hard, on her side as Drust landed a few feet to her right.
	The instant Drust's back hit the ground, he hopped to his feet in a perfectly executed kick-up that would have had Bruce Lee make a run for his money. “Elayra! Ghent!” His eyes fell first to Elayra, then searched for Ghent, concern in his sharp, clipped tone.
	In response, Elayra groaned and returned to her feet as swiftly as she could, her arm slightly sore from the impact, but otherwise none the worse for wear. Fallen leaves sticking to her damp clothes, she searched for Ghent, checked that both he and Drust were okay for the most part, before looking to the gate.
	It remained as solid and shut as it had when they first reached it, the light in the top once more dormant.
	“Oh, [i]come on![/i]” Elayra shouted at it, her cheeks flushing in anger furled by desperation. “That was BRILLIANT!” Ignoring the fact that she had just inadvertently complimented Ghent, she stormed back toward the gate.
	[i]For once,[/i] she thought heatedly, [i]just [u]once[/u], can’t something work the way it’s supposed to?![/i] 
	“Elayra!” Drust spat through his teeth. When she paid no attention to the threatening sound of her name, he growled low in his throat as his neck twitched violently, then hurried after the girl.
	Elayra gripped either side of where Ghent had placed his hand and tugged in a final effort to make sure it had not, in fact, worked. To her dismay, the gate barely moved an inch. “Open, you stupid, good-for-nothing—”
	Elayra inhaled and glanced up as the heart above her once more ignited with a soft pink glow. She hastily released the gate just before Drust gripped the top of her backpack and yanked her back more forcefully than necessary, almost wrenching the pack from her shoulders. She stumbled back, nearly losing her footing, and gasped when the pack thumped back against her, irritating the bruise beneath.
	In front of them, one of the heavy iron gates swung outward with a high-pitched squeak, creating an opening just wide enough for someone to slip through.
	For a long moment, Drust and Elayra could only stare.
	A triumphant smile pulled at Elayra’s lips as she turned toward Ghent. “Looks like you did something right for once, Featherhead!”