Creating a passage through the spirit world required more than just power—it demanded a deep understanding of the fundamental forces that separated dimensions. Klein found himself drawing on knowledge that seemed to come from The Fool itself, information that no human should possess about the hidden architecture of reality.
The ritual required a specific location where the barriers between worlds were already thin. Fortunately, the contaminated zone around the steel works provided exactly such a place. Klein led Welch and Naya to a section of the facility where the temporal echoes were strongest, where past and present blurred together in ways that made his eyes water.
"The spirit world exists parallel to our reality," Klein explained as he began to arrange the necessary components. "It's a realm of pure thought and emotion, where distance is measured by conceptual similarity rather than physical space. If I can create a stable passage, we can travel from here to Backlund in a matter of minutes rather than hours."
The process required items that resonated with their destination: a newspaper from Backlund that Welch had kept from a previous visit, a coin minted in the capital, and most importantly, a clear mental image of where they wanted to emerge. Klein had never been to Backlund himself, but the notebook contained detailed descriptions of the city's spiritual geography.
"There's something you need to understand," Klein continued as he worked. "The spirit world isn't empty. It's inhabited by entities that exist purely as consciousness—some benevolent, some hostile, and many that are simply alien beyond human comprehension. We'll need to move quickly and quietly, and whatever you do, don't respond to anything that tries to communicate with us."
Naya shivered, her Spectator abilities apparently picking up on the emotional resonances that were beginning to gather around them. "I can feel them," she whispered. "Minds that are vast and strange, and they're becoming aware of what we're doing."
Welch's visions were showing him fragments of what lay ahead. "I see a path," he said, "but it's not straight. The spirit world doesn't follow normal geometry. We'll have to navigate by landmarks that exist only in the realm of thought."
Klein nodded, placing the final component of the ritual—a drop of his own blood, freely given—on the newspaper from Backlund. The effect was immediate and dramatic. The air in front of them began to shimmer and tear, revealing a glimpse of something that existed beyond normal space.
Through the opening, Klein could see the spirit world in all its alien glory. It was a realm of impossible colors and shifting geometries, where thoughts took on physical form and emotions became landscapes. Floating islands of crystallized memory drifted through skies that changed color with each passing moment, and in the distance, vast structures that might have been cities or might have been the dreams of sleeping gods rose toward horizons that curved in directions that had no names.
"Stay close," Klein warned as he stepped through the passage. "Hold onto each other, and don't let go no matter what happens."
The moment they entered the spirit world, Klein felt the full weight of its alien nature pressing down on his consciousness. This was a realm where human logic held no sway, where cause and effect were suggestions rather than laws, and where the very act of observation could change what was being observed.
They found themselves standing on what appeared to be a path made of crystallized starlight, stretching across a void filled with swirling galaxies of pure thought. But Klein knew that the path was really just his mind's attempt to make sense of something that couldn't be understood in normal terms.
"This way," he said, following instincts that came from The Fool's knowledge. "We need to reach the conceptual space that corresponds to Backlund."
As they walked—or perhaps flew, or maybe simply existed in a state of directed motion—Klein became aware of the entities that Naya had sensed. They were vast consciousnesses that existed as pure information, some curious about the human intruders, others indifferent, and a few that radiated a hunger that made Klein's skin crawl.
One of them, a being that appeared as a constantly shifting mandala of geometric patterns, approached them with what might have been friendly curiosity. Klein felt it probing at the edges of his mind, trying to understand what manner of creature he was.
"Interesting," the entity communicated, not through words but through direct transfer of meaning. "You carry the mark of The Fool, yet you remain fundamentally human. How curious. How... unprecedented."
Klein forced himself not to respond, remembering his own warning about not communicating with the spirit world's inhabitants. But the entity seemed to take his silence as an answer in itself.
"Wise," it continued. "The young godling learns caution. Perhaps there is hope for your species after all."
Before Klein could puzzle out what the entity meant by calling him a "young godling," Welch suddenly grabbed his arm. "Klein, we need to move faster. I'm seeing something in the visions—the cult has found a way to track us even here. They're sending something after us."
Looking back along the path they had traveled, Klein could see a disturbance in the spirit world's fabric—a dark stain that was spreading toward them with malevolent purpose. It was clearly not a natural phenomenon of this realm, but something that had been forced into existence by the cult's rituals.
"A spiritual parasite," Klein identified, the knowledge flowing from the notebook even across dimensional boundaries. "They've created a hunter that can pursue us through the spirit world itself."
The entity that had been observing them suddenly radiated what Klein interpreted as alarm. "Corruption," it communicated urgently. "The Fallen Creator's taint spreads even here. You must reach your destination quickly, young godling, before the contamination spreads further."
Klein didn't need any further encouragement. Drawing on The Fool's power, he accelerated their passage through the spirit world, the crystalline path beneath their feet stretching and contracting as they moved through conceptual space at speeds that would have been impossible in the physical realm.
Behind them, the spiritual parasite gave chase, its form a writhing mass of corrupted thoughts and twisted emotions that left a trail of contamination in its wake. But Klein could see their destination ahead—a shimmering portal that corresponded to Backlund's spiritual signature.
With a final burst of effort, they dove through the portal just as the parasite reached them. Klein felt claws of pure malevolence rake across his consciousness, but then they were through, tumbling out of the spirit world and into a narrow alley in the heart of Backlund.
They had escaped Tingen, but Klein knew that their troubles were far from over. The cult of the Fallen Creator would not give up easily, and their use of the spirit world passage had attracted attention from entities that were far more dangerous than any human organization.
As they picked themselves up from the cobblestones of the alley, Klein realized that they had crossed more than just physical distance. They had entered a new phase of their existence as Beyonders, one where the stakes would be higher and the dangers more exotic than anything they had faced so far.
The crimson moon was visible even in the daylight sky above Backlund, and Klein could swear it was watching them with something that might have been approval.