Cerise pressed her palm against the shimmering portal's edge. The magic hummed under her dark skin, warm and alive. She pulled her hand back and watched the gateway flicker and fade. Another dead end. She needed to find Rhommie, the only one who could open the right portal home. The Fae Wylds stretched out before her, strange and beautiful. Trees with silver bark lined the path ahead. Their leaves glowed soft purple in the dim light. Cerise gripped her staff tighter. She would need a place to work, somewhere to study the portals. Somewhere safe to plan her next move. Down the winding path, she spotted an old stone archway. Moonflowers grew around its edges, their petals giving off a pale glow. Small blue hyacinths dotted the base, lighting up the ground. This portal led somewhere called Avalon. Cerise pulled out a flower from her pouch. The dahlia's petals shimmered pink and white in her palm. She held it near the archway and watched it spin. The petals turned faster, sensing the magic in the air. She tucked the flower away and turned from the portal. Inside a nearby hollow, she found what she'd been looking for. A glass orb sat in a nest of old bones. Blue lightning danced across its surface, crackling and bright. Cerise lifted it carefully. This would be her tool, her key to understanding how the portals worked. She would learn their patterns, track their energy, and find Rhommie. Then she would go home.

Cerise set the lightning orb on a flat stone and circled it three times. The blue sparks inside pulsed faster with each pass. She grinned and tapped the glass with one dark finger. The magic responded, crackling brighter. This was step one: learn how portal energy felt, how it moved, how it changed. She pulled out her dahlia and held it close to the orb. The petals spun wildly, glowing at the edges. Perfect. If she could read the flower's reaction to different portal types, she could map them. She could figure out which ones Rhommie had touched, which ones led where. Her horns caught the light as she leaned closer. The orb's lightning jumped to meet her skin, tickling her palm. She laughed and pulled back. This would work. She would learn the language of portals, and then she would find her way home. But storing all that power safely was the problem. The orb couldn't hold a charge forever, and she needed to test different amounts. Cerise spotted an old cabinet half-hidden behind a twisted tree trunk. Its door was carved with symbols she didn't recognize. She opened it carefully. Light escaped through the cracks, warm and golden. She placed the orb inside and watched the cabinet hum. The wood absorbed the lightning's glow, containing it. This would do. She could charge it, store it, and use it when she needed to test the portals. Next came the real work. Cerise needed a place to study, to watch, to write down what she learned. Through the trees, she found a pavilion with a metal frame and a glass dome. The posts were carved with more symbols, different from the cabinet's. She stepped inside and looked up. The sky stretched above her, clear through the glass. Perfect for watching how portals opened, how they changed with the stars. She dragged a sturdy table inside and spread out her scrolls. A map showing patterns in the sky went in the center. She weighted the corners with smooth stones. Cerise sat at the table and traced one finger across the map. The constellations matched the portal archway's glow patterns. She pulled out her dahlia and set it beside the scrolls. When a portal opened, she would note the flower's spin, the lightning's pulse, the stars' positions. She would build a chart, a guide. Then she would know which portal Rhommie controlled. Her three shadows danced on the pavilion floor as she worked, each one moving differently. She grinned and wrote her first note. This was how dreams started: one observation, one test, one step closer to home.