The climb was harder than Hine had imagined. The mountain paths, white with snow and slick with hidden ice, wound higher and higher, twisting around jagged outcrops like a serpent curling around its prey. Her breath misted in the thin air, every exhale sharp against her raw throat, and the gloves Kaien had given her were already damp with frost.
She tightened the safety rope across her chest as she navigated the narrow ledge. Below her, the world disappeared into a dizzying expanse of white and shadow, the valley far below swallowed in cloud. Somewhere behind those swirling walls of snow and wind was the village she had just left, the faint glow of their boundary torches already a distant memory. Ahead, only the mountain waited, cold and silent, as though testing whether she was worthy to climb it.
Each step echoed in her mind, the crunch of her boots loud against the stillness. She tried to focus on the rhythm of her breathing, on the warmth of the shard at her side, steady as a quiet heartbeat. But unease clung to her like the thin frost gathering on her cloak. She could feel it... that watchful presence.
The same presence from the ledge.
Every so often, the prickling at the back of her neck would intensify, a strange current running along her spine, urging her to turn around. But each time she did, there was only the endless white expanse of the mountain, untouched and still.
By midday, the wind grew stronger. It screamed across the ridges, snatching at her cloak and biting through her layers. Her legs burned from the climb, and her fingers ached with cold, but she pressed forward. She had no choice. The shard had begun to pulse faintly the moment she crossed the tree line, as if aware of something ahead.
"Don't stop," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the howling wind.
The path narrowed, hemmed in by sharp rocks on one side and a sheer drop on the other. Snow slid under her boots, and more than once she had to press herself flat against the wall, praying her balance would hold.
And then, it happened.
The air shifted.
It was subtle at first, a low rumble beneath her boots, a vibration so faint she almost thought she imagined it. Then the mountain groaned, a deep, guttural sound that seemed to come from its very core. Hine froze, her gloved fingers gripping the rope instinctively as a crack split through the icy surface somewhere above her.
The world erupted in sound.
Snow roared down the slope like an unleashed beast, thundering toward her. The force of it knocked the breath from her lungs before she could even scream. She ran... or tried to... her boots sliding against the frozen rock, but there was nowhere to go. The path was too narrow, the drop too steep.
Panic clawed at her chest as the avalanche bore down on her, the white wall of chaos swallowing the mountain in seconds. She stumbled, her knee slamming against the jagged edge of stone, and felt the rope bite into her ribs as she tried to anchor herself. But the snow was faster, merciless, and in that instant, she knew she wouldn't be able to outrun it.
Then, something pulled her.
Not roughly, not like the snow tearing at her limbs, but firm, unyielding. A hand... cold as the mountain but solid... clamped around her wrist and yanked her sideways, off the main path. She was dragged into a narrow crevice between two slabs of rock, the avalanche roaring past like an angry storm.
Hine clutched at the wall, trembling, as the snow thundered below, carrying boulders and broken trees in its fury. Her heart pounded against her ribs, each beat sharp and painful.
When the roar faded, leaving only the echo of shifting ice and the soft hiss of falling snow, she dared to look up.
Someone stood in front of her.
The figure was tall, wrapped in a cloak as black as the spaces between stars. The hood cast their face in shadow, but even in the dim light of the mountain pass, Hine could see the faint shimmer of something unreal... as if the snow itself avoided touching them, melting before it ever landed.
For a long moment, they didn't speak. Neither did she.
"You..." Her voice cracked. She swallowed hard, gripping the rock behind her for balance. "You saved me."
The figure tilted their head, as though studying her.
Up close, Hine could feel it... the same strange hum that had followed her since she left the village, the silent awareness prickling at her skin. It wasn't threatening, not exactly, but it wasn't warm either. It was something ancient, something that had seen far more winters than she ever would.
"Why?" she asked, her breath forming shaky clouds in the freezing air.
The figure finally spoke, their voice quiet but carrying easily over the wind.
"Because the mountain would have swallowed you whole."
The voice was neither male nor female, but something in between... soft, distant, and heavy with an echo that made her chest tighten.
Hine blinked. "Who… who are you?"
There was silence again, the figure's face unreadable beneath the hood. Then:
"A soul of the Night Kingdom," they said, and for a fleeting second, the mountain seemed to grow quieter around them. "The one you've been feeling since you began your climb."
Hine's throat went dry. The Night Kingdom. Stories whispered of it... a place beyond mortal lands, where the souls of those who had wandered too far into the dark were said to linger, bound by promises or sins left unfulfilled.
She should have been afraid. Maybe she was. But exhaustion and the fading adrenaline dulled the edge of her fear.
"You've been following me," she said softly.
"Yes," the figure admitted. "The shard calls to what is no longer bound by the sun."
Her hand instinctively brushed against the pouch at her side, feeling the steady pulse of the shard through the fabric. "Then you know where my sister is," she said, her voice trembling.
The figure didn't answer immediately. Instead, they stepped back, their cloak shifting soundlessly in the wind.
"You are walking a path that does not forgive mistakes," they said finally. "If you continue, the mountain will not be the only thing that tries to bury you."
Hine tightened her grip on the rope across her chest. "I don't care. I'll find her. Even if it takes five hundred years."
For the first time, something like a flicker of emotion... surprise, maybe... passed through the figure's stillness.
"Then stay close to the cliffs," they said, their tone almost softer now. "The mountain is restless. Tonight, it will not sleep."
Before she could ask what that meant, the figure moved, slipping past her into the swirling snow. She spun to follow, but when the wind cleared, they were gone, leaving only their footprints pressed faintly into the fresh powder.
Hine stood there, chest heaving, staring at the empty path. The world was still again, but different, as though the mountain itself had shifted in the wake of the encounter.
She swallowed hard and adjusted her gloves, her fingers stiff and clumsy with cold. There was no time to waste. She pulled herself out of the narrow crevice, testing the rope and steadying her footing before continuing her climb.
Every shadow seemed deeper now, every gust of wind carrying a whisper she couldn't quite understand. The shard pulsed steadily at her side, warmer than before, almost urging her forward.
Somewhere in the distance, the mountain groaned again.
And far above, on a ridge she could barely make out through the veil of snow, a dark silhouette lingered... silent, patient, waiting.