Cassian was sitting on the bed in the motel in Hawkins, the Book of Enoch open before him and the Vatican parchments scattered around him. Weeks had passed since he opened the portal to heaven in Mirkwood—an effort that had drained him but revealed the extent of his blood's power. Helen was at the table, reviewing her laptop, tracking the laboratory's movements as she had done ever since. Cassian closed the book, rubbing his temples as he reflected on what he knew and what still lay ahead.
"The portal to heaven was an unnecessary extreme," he said, breaking the silence. "I can't use it against the lab."
Helen looked up, closing her laptop halfway.
"What do you mean?" she asked, turning toward him. "It worked. We saw a piece of heaven. It was impressive."
"Yes, but it drained me too much," Cassian explained, standing to pace the room. "Heaven is the same across all dimensions, as His Holiness said, but opening a portal there is exhausting because of its purity. My blood of Enoch responds, but I can't fight like that. I need to focus on the other lands, the lesser dimensions we already know about."
"You mean the Parallel Lands?" Helen said, crossing her arms. "The ones with versions of this world, some similar, others not."
"Exactly," he nodded, picking up a parchment. "We know there are many dimensions, many with their own Earth. Some are like ours, others are different, but they all share heaven and hell. The portal in the woods where Will was, the one at the lab—they're connections to these intermediate lands, neither celestial nor infernal. I want to train with those."
"Isn't that risky?" she asked, frowning. "The one at the lab had creatures, and we don't know what's in the others."
"That's why I'll use the safe rituals," Cassian replied, unrolling the parchment. "Forcing a portal, like they did at the lab, alerts demons because it tears the veil. But the rituals from the Book of Enoch and these parchments open minor pathways without drawing hell's attention. I can practice with these Parallel Lands."
"And what do you gain from that?" Helen asked, leaning forward. "You already confirmed the lab's portal. Why go further?"
"Because I don't know how to seal it," he admitted, looking at her. "Opening one to heaven was an experiment. I need to master these intermediate dimensions, opening and closing them at will. I'll spend another month training for that."
"Another month," Helen sighed. "You're obsessed, Cassian. What if the lab does something while you're training?"
"You'll keep watch," he said firmly. "If the portal grows or something comes out, let me know. But I can't face it without full control."
"Alright," she nodded, reopening her laptop. "You train, I'll hack. But don't mess up the motel with blood again."
Cassian nodded, returning to the texts. Over the first few days, he reviewed the Book of Enoch, searching for references to the "lands between worlds" that Enoch mentioned as steps between realities. The parchments detailed a ritual to open "minor pathways" to these Parallel Lands, using blood as an anchor without invoking the divine or the demonic. In the motel, he drew a circle of salt, cut his palm, and recited: "Per sanguum meum, aperi viam minorem." A dark rift half a meter wide opened, opaque, showing no view of the other side—just silent emptiness. He closed it with a gesture, tired but not exhausted.
"It worked," he told Helen that night as she ate pizza on the bed. "It's easier than heaven."
"Why can't we see anything?" she asked, wiping her hands. "The one to heaven had golden clouds."
"Because these Lands aren't celestial," he explained. "They're versions of our world or something close, neutral. They don't have heaven's light or hell's darkness. What matters is that I can handle them."
"How much did it cost you?" she asked, pointing to his bandaged hand.
"Less than heaven," Cassian replied. "But I noticed something: my blood needs days to recover after opening one."
"Days?" Helen asked, raising an eyebrow. "How many?"
"Three or four," he estimated, sitting down. "It's a natural limit. If I force it sooner, it doesn't respond."
Over the next month, Cassian perfected the process. He trained in the motel and in Mirkwood, opening portals a meter wide to these Parallel Lands—always dark, with no clear view of the other side. He waited several days between attempts, noticing that his blood grew stronger with each practice. He could now maintain them for two minutes and close them with a gesture, the crucifix stabilizing the ritual. Helen observed, sometimes timing him, while continuing to hack to keep him updated on the lab, which remained active but without drastic changes.
"You can now open and close these Lands at will," Helen said one afternoon after watching him close a portal in the woods. "What's next?"
Cassian put away the dagger, looking at the empty salt circle.
"Crossing," he replied firmly. "I've opened portals to these dimensions, but I don't know what's on the other side. I need to explore them."
"Crossing?" she exclaimed, dropping the flashlight. "Seriously? We don't know what's in those Lands."
"That's why I have to go," he said, turning to her. "We know they exist, that Will crossed one, that the lab connects to another. If I'm going to seal that portal, I need to understand these intermediate realities. I've waited a month for this."
"I'm coming with you," Helen declared, crossing her arms. "I'm not letting you go alone."
"No," Cassian refused, stepping closer. "I need you to stay. Someone has to watch over Hawkins. We don't know how long I'll take, or if time flows the same in those Lands. If the lab acts, alert the Vatican."
"And how do I contact you from another dimension?" she asked, frowning. "The radio won't work."
"I don't know," he admitted, adjusting the crucifix. "But I trust you to keep things under control. If I'm not back in a day, call for help."
"I don't like this," Helen said, kicking a rock. "You're going in blind, Cassian. What if you can't come back?"
"I can close portals from this side," he replied. "I should be able to open one from the other. I've trained for a month for this. I'll be fine."
"I hope so," she said, sighing. "When are you doing it?"
"Tonight," Cassian decided. "Here in Mirkwood. Get ready to monitor from the car."
That night, they returned to the clearing in Mirkwood. Cassian drew a four-meter circle of salt, pouring holy water along the edges. Helen parked the car a kilometer away, walking back with the flashlight and the radio. Cassian knelt, cutting his palm, letting the blood drip into the center while holding the crucifix.
"This is your last chance to change your mind," Helen said, standing outside the circle. "I can go with you."
"Stay," he insisted, looking at her. "Hawkins needs you more than I do right now. If something comes out of the lab, alert the Vatican."
"Alright," she nodded, gripping the flashlight tightly. "But come back, Cassian. Don't leave me alone with this."
"I will," he promised, closing his eyes.
He recited the ritual: "Per sanguum meum, aperi viam minorem." The air vibrated, a deep hum filling the clearing. The ground trembled, and a dark circle rose, two meters tall, its edges sharp but opaque, with no light or sound from the other side. Cassian stood, his hand still bleeding, and looked at Helen.
"Here I go," he said, taking a step toward the portal.
"Be careful!" she shouted, raising the flashlight. "And don't get lost!"
Cassian nodded, took a deep breath, and crossed the threshold. The portal enveloped him instantly, cold piercing through him as the forest vanished, pulling him into an unknown dimension. As soon as his feet left the clearing, the dark circle closed behind him with a whisper, leaving Helen alone in the night, the hum silenced and the woods plunged into an unsettling stillness.