The mountain was silent after the avalanche, almost unnervingly so. Snow still clung to Hine's coat, heavy and wet, dripping into the already frozen fabric. Her legs trembled from exhaustion, but her gaze never wavered from the figure standing a few paces away, his presence quiet but unmistakable against the blinding white of the pass.
The soul. The one who had pulled her from death moments ago.
Hine tightened her gloves as the wind howled again, sweeping powder across the sharp rocks. The figure was motionless, hood low over his face, his form shifting subtly, as if the very air around him did not obey the same rules. She could not see his eyes, only the faint shimmer of bluish light beneath the edge of the hood, flickering like a dying flame.
"Who are you?" she called out, her voice rough, raw from the freezing air. The wind swallowed her words, but she could tell he had heard her. His head tilted slightly, a gesture that gave nothing away. "Why are you following me?"
No answer.
The shard at her side pulsed faintly, a soft hum that she could almost feel in her bones. She stepped closer, snow crunching beneath her boots, gripping the safety rope Kaien had given her as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality. "I asked you a question," she said, voice trembling, though not entirely from the cold. "You just saved my life. I think that earns me a name."
The soul tilted his head again, but still said nothing. Instead, the snow around them shifted, unnatural, swirling like a slow dance in the air. His presence carried with it the chill of the Night Kingdom, a stillness that pressed against her lungs until every breath burned. She had heard whispers in the village, tales of spirits bound to the mountains, remnants of the ancient world. They were supposed to be hostile, dangerous. But this one had helped her. Why?
Her patience frayed. "Fine," she snapped, the anger a small flame against the cold. "If you won't tell me who you are, then tell me why you saved me. You could have just let the avalanche take me."
At last, the figure moved. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his hood just enough for her to see the faint outline of his face. His features were sharp, almost human, but his skin glimmered with an unnatural pallor, and his eyes glowed faintly, a quiet, steady blue that reminded her of the shard.
"You should not be here," he said, his voice low and quiet, like the whisper of wind through a hollow cave. "Not alone."
The sound of him startled her. It was calm, but there was something buried beneath it. Something heavy.
Hine tightened her jaw. "I don't have a choice," she said. "My sister is somewhere beyond this mountain, and I will find her, even if I have to crawl through every frozen pass to do it."
The soul did not move, but something in his gaze flickered. "You will not survive," he said simply. "Not without a guide."
His words hung in the air like frost. Hine stared at him, searching for any hint of mockery, but there was none. Only a quiet certainty, as if he had seen countless travelers before her, their bodies buried beneath snow they never escaped.
"You," she said after a long pause, her breath curling in the freezing air. "You know the way through, don't you?"
He was silent.
"Then guide me," she said. Her voice was steady now, sharp with determination. "If you know these mountains, then help me cross them."
For a moment, she thought he might vanish like smoke, leaving her alone again. Instead, he turned slightly, just enough for her to catch the faint movement of his cloak. "I can guide you," he said, "but I will not give you my name."
The words cut through her like a blade. She blinked, taken aback by the bluntness of it. "Why?" she asked. "What are you hiding?"
"No name," he repeated, his tone final, as if names themselves carried a weight she could not yet understand. "Not here. Not now."
Frustration burned through her, but she bit back the retort clawing at her throat. There was something in his presence, a gravity that warned her not to push too hard. She needed him, whether she liked it or not. So she swallowed the question and nodded once. "Fine. No name. But if you are going to lead me, you will not disappear without warning. Understood?"
The soul inclined his head, a small gesture of agreement. Then, without waiting for her, he turned and began walking, his feet making no sound as they touched the snow.
Hine hesitated for only a moment before following, clutching the rope in her hand as if it might steady her heart. Every step was heavier now, the weight of her near-death still pressing on her chest. She wanted to ask more, to demand answers about who or what he was, but the wind howled louder, drowning out the questions that crowded her mind.
As they climbed, the path narrowed, the mountain curling inward, forming sharp ridges that cut against the sky. The world seemed to shrink to nothing but white and shadow. She stumbled once, her foot slipping on a patch of ice, but the figure was there, his hand cool and steady as it caught her arm. He did not speak, did not look at her, only kept walking until the ground evened out again.
The silence was unbearable.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked finally, her voice softer this time, not a demand but an honest plea. "You don't know me. You could have left me there."
For a moment, she thought he would ignore her again. But then, without looking back, he said, "Because you are not ready to die. Not yet."
The words sank into her like stones. Not yet. She did not know whether to feel relieved or afraid.
They moved together for hours, the only sound the crunch of her boots and the distant, hollow cry of the wind. As the sun dipped lower, painting the snow in soft orange light, Hine felt her exhaustion creeping in, her limbs heavy and uncooperative. She stumbled again, and this time he stopped, turning just enough to study her with those strange, unreadable eyes.
"We stop here," he said.
She wanted to protest, to insist she could keep going, but her body betrayed her, aching with a bone-deep fatigue she could not fight. She sank to her knees, breath sharp and ragged. He crouched near the edge of the ridge, silent as the snow began to fall again in soft, steady flakes.
As she built a small fire with trembling hands, she stole glances at him, at the way the shadows clung to him like a second skin, at the way he seemed to belong to the night itself. She thought of Kaien's warning, of the dangers beyond the village, of the stories Lurya had whispered when they were children. And yet, here he was, this soul without a name, keeping her alive when the mountain had already tried to claim her once.
"Will you tell me, at least," she said quietly, her voice almost swallowed by the crackle of the fire, "what you are?"
His gaze flicked toward her, that faint glow beneath his hood sharp against the dark. "A soul," he said simply. "Bound to this place. Bound to the Night Kingdom."
"And why me?" she asked, unable to stop herself. "Why not someone else?"
He did not answer right away. Instead, he turned his gaze to the horizon, where the last light of the sun faded into shadow. "Because the mountain chose you," he said finally, voice low. "And because you carry the shard. That is enough."
Hine swallowed hard, unsure if his words were a warning or something else entirely. She stared into the fire, letting the silence settle again, but the questions only grew, sharp and restless, coiling tight in her chest.
Tomorrow, she decided, she would press him for more. She would not climb this mountain blind. But for tonight, as the wind sang through the narrow pass and the fire cast long, trembling shadows, she let herself rest, the quiet presence of her nameless guide a strange comfort in the endless cold.