They both walked to the door... They had just stepped past the threshold when Duke suddenly stopped.
Bruce had barely taken another step into the cold night air when a hand landed on his shoulder.
The contact was casual.
Almost lazy.
Yet the moment Duke's fingers settled there. The world folded.
There was no flash of light. No violent distortion. No roaring surge of magic that most teleportation techniques carried with them. No crack of displaced air or blinding flare of mana.
The street simply vanished.
Space itself seemed to slip quietly sideways.
And the next instant.
They were somewhere else.
The cold wind was different.
It cut across Bruce's face like a thin blade of ice, carrying with it the faint scent of pine resin, steel, and distant smoke from burning hearths.
Bruce blinked once.
