Portals are gateways to adventure.
If you see a fairy ring
In a field of grass,
Very lightly step around,
Tiptoe as you pass;
― William Shakespeare
Portals in fiction are gateways to other realms, times or realities. Whether magical, man-made, or natural, they overcome boundaries to travel. There’s something mysterious about them—even dangerous—and that’s what makes them so fascinating.
A portal need not be an actual doorway. It could be anything—a mirror, an artefact, a wardrobe, or even a natural phenomenon like a tornado. In Irish folklore, hawthorn trees are entrances to the land of the fae, while ancient Britons saw caves, burial mounds, and bodies of water as gateways to the netherworld. Modern fiction continues this tradition, weaving portals into stories of adventure and personal transformation. Whether it’s the rabbit hole that leads Alice into Wonderland, the Bajoran wormhole in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, or the standing stone circle that sends Claire Randall back in time in Outlander—portals transport characters to unseen and out-of-reach places.
Fast-Tracking Adventure
Fictional portals are more than just gateways—they embody our deep-seated drive to explore the unknown. Humans are born explorers, eager to find out what lies over the horizon. Portal fiction taps into this curiosity while keeping a plot moving. Think of the movie Stargate, where alien technology uses wormholes to instantly connect planets and galaxies. Compare that to Frodo and Sam’s epic trek across Middle-earth in The Lord of the Rings. Portals get characters to their destination fast, skipping the journey.
There are many examples of instantaneous travel in fiction, such as faster-than-light jumps in Battlestar Galactica, teleportation of matter in Star Trek, and wizards’ use of vanishing cabinets, disapparation, and portkeys in Harry Potter. In portal fiction, however, portal travel is more than a shortcut from A to B. It’s an inciting incident that kicks off exploration and interaction with other civilizations. For example, in Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials, the Subtle Knife opens doors to adventures in alternate worlds, while in my Cathar Grail Quest series, rifts provide access to the Labyrinth—a supra-dimensional network that allows characters to travel between all realms and planes of creation.
Personal Transformation
Portal stories are about more than just shifting a character’s location—they often involve a deeper transition. In Greek mythology, the River Styx serves more as a metaphor for the soul’s journey from the world of the living to the realm of the dead than a literal gateway to the Underworld. The concept “crossing over” reinforces the notion of transition. The actual portal to the spirit world is death, and the ferryman leaves souls unable to pay him in a kind of limbo, trapped between worlds.
Just as Japan’s Torii gates at Shinto shrines and lychgates in Christian churchyards mark the change from secular to sacred spaces, portals often foreshadow an internal change within a character. In The Chronicles of Narnia, the wardrobe is more than an entrance to another realm—it’s a gateway to transformation, where the Pevensie children develop courage, leadership, and wisdom. Likewise, in my novel Graëlstorm, passing through a rift portal launches Lena Dubois on an adventure that uncovers her true identity and inner strength. Stories like these mirror the symbolic role of real-world portals in marking significant transitions.
Avoiding Deus ex Machina
Portals can be problematic when used as a quick, easy fix, a concept known as deus ex machina—the term for a sudden and unexpected solution that resolves an otherwise insoluble plot predicament. In the series finale of Star Trek: Voyager, the abrupt introduction of a time portal to bring advanced technology from the future feels forced and out of place, as none of these elements were part of the show’s established technologies or plot. This last-minute solution to defeat the Borg threat and hasten Voyager’s return home undermines the crew’s series-long struggle to escape the Delta Quadrant, diminishing the stakes and plausibility of the story.
To avoid this, writers should foreshadow and explain portal use earlier in the plot and ground it in the story’s world building. Is the portal powered by magic, technology, or a force of nature? Who can access it—those with secret knowledge, special artifacts, or unique abilities? Where does it lead—one destination or many? Are they permanent features, or do they open unexpectedly? Addressing these factors anchor a portal within the story’s logic, making it feel authentic, not forced. Steering clear of clichés like doorways or glowing circles is another way to make portal stories more intriguing. For instance, in Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library, books allow characters to explore alternate lives, while in Guy Gavriel Kay’s The Fionavar Tapestry, a wizard’s summoning acts as a bridge between different realms.
Raising the Stakes
Introducing meaningful risks and consequences adds drama and depth to portal fiction. In His Dark Materials, skilful use of the Subtle Knife is required, and its misuse attracts Spectres—sinister entities that attack people, leaving them in a zombie-like state. In Interstellar, navigating wormholes brings the psychological toll of time dilation, as characters age differently from loved ones on Earth. Even Battlestar Galactica’s FTL jumps—while not strictly portals—carry serious risks. Navigation errors can throw ships off course or leave them stranded in deep space. The success of each jump is crucial to humanity’s survival, as each loss pushes it closer to extinction. High stakes like these build tension, ensuring that portals are more than convenient plot devices.
Portals are popular motifs in folklore and modern fiction. Whether magical, manmade, or forces of nature, they allow characters to explore distant worlds, alternate realities, and different timelines without the need for lengthy travel sequences. Writing great portal fiction requires creativity and solid story logic. By adding limitations, high stakes, and character growth, writers transform portals from simple gateways into dynamic storytelling tools.
