Portal to Another World

The old ruins groan beneath The Lone Wanderer’s boots, their broken concrete ribs jutting through weeds and rusted metal. Dust hangs motionless in the pale wasteland light.

Without warning, a circle of violet light tears open under him. The ground vanishes, and the ruined world drops away into a roaring darkness.

He falls through cold, weightless air before striking a bed of wet leaves and black soil. Branches shudder overhead, scattering beads of rain across his goggles.

Around him, enormous trees knot together beneath a moonless canopy. Pale mushrooms glow between twisted roots, barely illuminating the rifle, Pip-Boy, and battered Vault-Tec suit.

The portal flickers high above the forest floor, now a shrinking wound of light between the branches. It snaps shut, leaving only dripping leaves and distant animal calls.

Somewhere beyond the trees, something heavy moves through the undergrowth. The sound stops. In the sudden silence, the dark forest seems to listen.

The Lone Wanderer moves beneath the dripping canopy, testing each patch of ground before shifting his weight. Ferns brush his knees, and the forest yields no clear trail.

He pauses beside a split tree and studies the mud. Deer-like tracks cross the clearing, along with smaller prints and a broad, dragging impression softened by rain.

Following the edge of the clearing, he finds a shallow stream running over black stones. Its water is clear, cold, and free of the chemical tang he knows from the wasteland.

Beyond the stream, the trees thin around a low ridge. From there he can map the forest by sight: glowing fungi mark the hollow, while pale mist gathers in a distant basin.

He completes a careful circuit and returns to the original clearing with a better sense of the terrain. Nothing follows him into the open, and the heavy movement remains somewhere deeper among the trees.

The heavy movement resumes beyond the ridge. Branches bend one after another, and a towering cyclops woman walks out of the dripping trees, each footfall sinking into the wet earth.

She stops at the edge of the clearing, enormous against the pale fungi. Rain beads on her skin while her single eye fixes on the rifle, then on the stranger carrying it.

The stream murmurs between them. No other tracks disturb the mud near her feet, but the broad dragging impression leads directly from the trees behind her.

She lowers her massive shoulders slightly, not yet attacking, though the gesture makes the clearing feel smaller. Her gaze lingers on the Pip-Boy’s dim green glow.

Adelis leans down until her vast shadow covers the clearing. Her single eye narrows, and the wet earth compresses beneath one planted hand.

The question has earned an answer, but not trust. Adelis's attention shifts from his face to the rifle, and her open hand remains extended between them.

Rain ticks against metal and leaves. The forest stays still behind Adelis, listening with her as the burden of the next explanation settles on him.

The words carry plainly through the rain. The Lone Wanderer keeps his rifle lowered, while Adelis studies his face and the strange blue suit beneath the dripping gear.

Adelis withdraws her hand from the earth and rises to her full impossible height. The clearing seems to breathe again beneath her lessened shadow.

Her single eye shifts toward the ridge where the heavy movement vanished. The branches there remain motionless, but Adelis does not relax completely.

Adelis turns and walks toward the trees, her enormous frame parting wet branches. Each footfall leaves a deep print, but her pace is careful enough not to crush the glowing mushrooms.

The Lone Wanderer follows the stream beyond the clearing, rifle lowered but ready. Behind him, Adelis continues through the trees, her silhouette fading between trunks and silver rain.

A heavy scrape answers from somewhere beyond the ridge. Adelis stops walking, while the Lone Wanderer sees reeds tremble beside the stream ahead, though nothing breaks cover.

Adelis raises one hand, warning him to remain quiet. Then she steps into the forest after the sound, leaving the stream and its pale reflections to guide his continuing path.

Adelis's footsteps fade into the rain until even the trembling branches grow still. The Lone Wanderer remains beside the stream, alone beneath the dripping canopy.

The water slips downhill through reeds and fern, its pale surface reflecting the green glow of fungi. Ahead, the old stones wait somewhere beyond the misty basin.

He advances carefully, keeping the rifle lowered as promised. Mud swallows his bootprints, and the forest closes behind him with wet whispers.

A reed bends beside the opposite bank. Then another bends farther on, moving against the current's direction, though the rain reveals no visible body.

The sound stops near a cluster of black stones. Between them, something has scraped a narrow groove through the mud, fresh enough that water has not filled it.

Beyond the groove, the stream disappears beneath twisted roots. A faint metallic glint rests in the darkness there, half-covered by moss and silt.

The Lone Wanderer follows the stream to a sloping shelf of exposed roots and climbs above the mist. From the higher ground, the forest opens beneath him.

Through breaks in the canopy, he spots a straight line of gray stone beyond the basin, too regular to be natural. A second shape rises behind it, squared and dark against the trees.

He steadies himself against a wet trunk and studies the distant structures. The nearer wall encloses a narrow clearing, while the taller ruin bears a broken tower or gatehouse.

A faint thread of smoke lifts beyond the wall, thinning quickly into the rain. No movement shows along the stonework, but the place is not wholly abandoned.

The stream below bends toward that direction, offering a natural route through the basin. The Lone Wanderer marks the landmarks, then descends toward the old structures.

The Lone Wanderer leaves Moonless Forest stream behind and arrives at the structures.

The Lone Wanderer reaches the old structures as rain darkens the gray stone. The nearer wall encloses a cramped courtyard choked with fern, while the taller ruin rises behind it like a broken gatehouse.

A gap in the wall offers easy passage. Inside, shallow footprints cross the mud toward a roofless building, and a thin thread of smoke curls from somewhere beyond its collapsed beams.

He slips through the gap without disturbing the loose stones, using the wall for cover. His careful approach reveals a narrow stair descending beneath the gatehouse, its upper steps recently cleared of leaves.

Near the stairwell, the metallic glint resolves into a corroded pre-collapse canteen wedged under a root. Its cap is missing, but the damp ground around it carries a sharp, unfamiliar animal musk.

Beyond the courtyard, a door shifts once in the rain and settles open. Warm air breathes from the darkness below, carrying smoke, wet stone, and a faint scraping sound.

The Lone Wanderer crouches beside the open door and studies its hinges, threshold, and warped frame. The wood is old, but the latch has been handled recently, leaving clean marks through the dust.

He angles his goggles toward the darkness and lets his eyes adjust. The warm air comes from a small chamber beneath the gatehouse, where a rusted brazier burns low beside stacked scraps of timber.

Inside, the scraping sound resolves into a loose sheet of metal shifting in a draft. Boot prints overlap around it, some recent and narrow, leading toward a second passage cut beneath the collapsed beams.

A torn strip of dark cloth clings to a splinter near the passage. It carries the same animal musk as the canteen, but the room holds no clear sign of what left it there.

The inspection costs him several quiet minutes. Rainwater gathers in the courtyard behind him, and the smoke beyond the beams thins while the hidden passage remains open before him.

The Lone Wanderer slips into the hidden passage, keeping one hand against the damp stone and the other near his lowered rifle. The tunnel narrows quickly beneath the collapsed beams.

He follows the overlapping boot prints for several yards before loose masonry shifts overhead. A shower of grit falls, and a rotten support drops across the passage with a heavy crack.

The fallen timber wedges against the walls, blocking the route ahead. Beyond it, something scrapes once across stone, then retreats into the darkness.

Searching the cramped walls, he finds a low drainage opening behind a curtain of roots. Fresh mud marks its rim, and a faint draft carries the same animal musk.

The opening slopes beneath the gatehouse toward the old courtyard, offering a usable route around the collapse. Beside it, a scratched symbol points deeper underground, its meaning unknown.

A heavy tread approaches through the rain. Adelis emerges between the trees, ducking beneath branches as her single eye searches the ruined gatehouse and the narrow drainage opening.

The Lone Wanderer offers Adelis his thanks, then turns from the drainage opening and climbs back into the courtyard. His rifle remains lowered as he follows the stream away from the hidden passage.

Adelis watches until he reaches the wall gap, then turns back toward the deeper trees. Her footsteps fade, leaving the ruins and the rain to him once more.

He abandons the search for the hidden stalker and takes the stream east, using the old stones as landmarks. Beyond the mist, distant smoke threads upward through the canopy.

The Lone Wanderer follows the stream east, comparing each bend with the smoke’s direction. Muddy boot marks appear among the reeds, fresher and more numerous than his own.

He climbs a low, wooded rise and finds the source below: a broad camp gathered around the remains of a stone road, with several cooking fires burning beneath patched canvas.

The camp rests beside a shallow ford where the stream leaves the forest. Wagons, rough palisade stakes, and salvaged timber shelters form a small settlement, plainly occupied despite the rain.

A narrow trail descends from the ridge toward the ford. Near its entrance, a weathered board hangs between two posts, marked with faded red paint and symbols he cannot read.

He reaches the edge of the settlement with the camp fully in sight. Smoke rolls low across the water, while movement passes between the shelters and a bell hangs ready beside the largest gate.

The Lone Wanderer descends through the rain without raising an alarm. He crosses the ford, passes beneath the settlement’s gate, and reaches the firelit space between the shelters.

Four wary guards watch from the gate, but their hands stay away from their weapons. One notices the blue Vault-Tec suit and points toward a covered stall near the largest fire.

The guards unlatch a waist-high inner barrier, granting him clear passage into the occupied camp. Beyond it, residents pause over cooking pots and stacked salvage, studying the stranger from the wasteland.

Under the covered stall, he finds a dry patch beside a brazier and a rack of scavenged supplies. A clay cup of clean water waits there, untouched and plainly offered to newcomers.

The Lone Wanderer waits beneath the canvas while rain drums softly overhead. Camp life resumes around him, though glances still return to the blue suit and lowered rifle.

Minutes pass without trouble. The brazier settles into a bed of red coals, and the offered water remains beside him as the settlement’s leader approaches from between the shelters.

Ettel stops across the brazier, keeping a respectful distance while the guards remain near the barrier. Her attention moves from his rifle to the unfamiliar gear on his wrist.

The settlement settles into cautious quiet around them. Ettel waits beside the brazier, giving him time to answer while rainwater runs from the canvas edge.

Ettel listens without interrupting. The rain, the unfamiliar gear, and the clean water at his side lend the claim a strange but consistent weight.

Her guarded expression eases into concern. Ettel glances toward the settlement’s battered gates, as though measuring how much danger might have followed him through.

Ettel remains beside the brazier, steady and attentive. Around her, the settlement listens discreetly while the rain seals the road beyond the gate.