The Spine of the world rose before them like the bones of a fallen god. Jagged ridges split the horizon, black stone thrust skyward, their peaks gnawed by endless winds. No grass clung to the slopes, no trees braved the heights. Only stone and shadow, a labyrinth carved from the scars of the earth.
The three travelers stood at the base of the first climb. Behind them, Emberfall smoldered faintly in the distance, its ash still caught in the wind. Before them stretched the path that Selene had spoken of in whispers—the Spine, the next trial.
Liora adjusted the strap on her arm, the ember-mark still faintly glowing beneath her sleeve. The chain of Emberfall had burned itself into her flesh, but she said nothing of the pain. She would not give it voice.
Edrin saw it anyway. The way her hand twitched when she thought no one was looking. The way her grip lingered on her sword not from habit, but to steady herself.
The Beacon within him pulsed faintly, sensing the chain's presence. Silver threads stirred like snakes in a pit, restless. Hungry. It should have been mine, it whispered. She wears what belongs to you.
Edrin clenched his jaw and shoved the thought away.
Selene planted her staff in the hard earth. The wind whipped her cloak around her, her eyes fixed on the broken path that wound up the mountainside. "The Spine is not like Emberfall. There, you faced illusions of self—guilt, desire, memory. Here…" She hesitated, her lips thinning. "Here, you face what hunts you. Shadows that do not belong to you, but know you all the same."
Edrin frowned. "Shadows?"
"Not wraiths," Selene said. "Something older. The Council will not waste their strength repeating the same trial. They will sharpen the knife differently this time."
Liora's voice was steady. "Then we climb."
She stepped onto the path, not waiting for Selene's caution or Edrin's hesitation. Her figure cut sharply against the bleak stone, a single spark carrying the ember-mark of Emberfall into the Spine's shadow.
Edrin followed, though unease weighed on him. The Beacon pulsed harder the higher they climbed, as if sensing the bones of the world resented its presence.
The path narrowed often, forcing them to hug jagged walls while the wind howled at their backs, eager to drag them into the abyss below. Shards of rock broke loose beneath their boots, tumbling into darkness without sound. The higher they went, the thinner the air grew, and the more the silence pressed in—silence not of emptiness, but of listening.
Edrin felt eyes in every shadow. His skin prickled as though threads brushed across him, unseen.
Once, he looked down at his hands and saw faint marks not his own—lines of gold like Selene's wards, curling faintly across his palm. He blinked, and they vanished.
Another time, he glanced at Liora's back and saw the ember-mark flare, brighter than the sun, chains coiling outward from it. He almost cried out, but then it faded again, leaving only her steady steps.
The Beacon hummed, amused. The Spine is showing you truth, not lie. Do you not see how she is bound now? Bound because she dared to take what belonged to us?
He gritted his teeth. "Shut up."
Liora glanced back at him. "What?"
"Nothing," he muttered.
Selene caught the exchange but said nothing. Her silence was heavy, as if she knew more than she wished to say.
By the second night, they found a narrow ledge sheltered by an overhang. They built no fire—the wind would have killed it—and huddled close instead, their cloaks pulled tight. The stars burned cruel and sharp above, far too many, far too close.
Liora sat apart, her sword across her knees, her marked arm bare to the cold. The ember-mark glowed faintly, casting firelight against her skin. She traced it with her fingers as though testing whether it was truly part of her.
Edrin watched her, his chest tight. He wanted to speak—to thank her, to beg her not to bear this weight alone—but the words tangled. He feared if he spoke them, the Beacon would twist them.
Selene finally broke the silence. "The mark will change you."
Liora's head lifted. "Then let it."
"You say that now," Selene said, her voice low, almost pitying. "But Emberfall's chain is not simply a mark. It will bend your will. It will test your strength. And if you fail…" She did not finish.
Edrin snapped, sharper than he meant. "Why didn't you take it, then? You knew what it was."
Selene's gaze hardened. "Because I am already bound enough. And because she chose. Do not strip her choice from her by making it guilt."
Liora's lips curved faintly, not quite a smile. "For once, we agree."
The silence after was heavier than before.
On the third day, the shadows came.
At first, they thought it was only the wind—shapes moving against the rocks, shifting when no one looked directly. But by dusk, the shapes grew sharper. Long-limbed, crawling along the cliffs. Eyes gleaming faintly like wet stone.
When they finally attacked, it was without sound.
A shadow peeled itself from the rock behind Edrin, striking with claws like jagged glass. He barely raised his blade in time, silver flaring as the Beacon lashed outward. The shadow shrieked—not with voice, but with the sound of stone grinding against stone.
More came, spilling from cracks and crevices, crawling along the walls, their forms indistinct. Some wore faces. His mother's. His father's. Villagers, twisted and thin, their features stretched like masks.
Edrin faltered, silver threads wavering. "Not again—"
But Liora's blade cut through one, her strike clean. The shadow unraveled into dust. She shouted over the shrieking wind, "They're not real! Don't let them take your shape!"
Her ember-mark flared, and for a moment chains of flame lashed outward, binding three shadows at once. She yanked her blade through them, burning them to ash.
Selene stood behind them, her staff raised, golden wards bursting outward to keep the swarm from overwhelming. "Hold the line! The Spine sends what you fear—do not feed it!"
But the shadows multiplied. And soon, Edrin saw one wearing Liora's face—eyes glowing ember-red, chain coiling her arm as she struck at him.
He staggered back. His blade trembled. Is that her?
The Beacon roared. Kill it. Kill her. If she is bound, she is theirs already.
"No!" He slashed wide, not at her, but at the rock itself, spraying stone shards. The shadow lunged—and Liora's real blade cut it down from the side.
Her real voice, fierce and grounding: "Edrin! Look at me! I'm here!"
Silver threads calmed. For a moment.
Then Selene cried out. Shadows coiled around her, not attacking but whispering, their voices layered.
"Kaelen…"
Her staff wavered. Her wards flickered. The shadows formed into the shape of a boy with silver threads in his hands, eyes bright with trust.
Edrin saw her falter. He felt the Beacon surge. If she falls, she will chain you both. Cut her loose. Now.
"No."
He lunged, silver blazing, not to strike Selene, but to sever the shadows wrapping her. His blade burned through them, the Beacon snarling in protest. Selene collapsed to her knees, gasping, clutching her staff.
The shadows shrieked, recoiling.
For a heartbeat, the Spine was silent.
Then the shadows dissolved, scattering like smoke on the wind.
Only the three of them remained, bruised, bleeding, breathless.
They did not sleep that night.
Liora leaned against the cliff wall, her ember-mark dim now, but her hand trembled faintly. Selene sat opposite, silent, her eyes hollow.
Edrin stared into the dark, the Beacon restless. He knew this was only the beginning. The shadows had shown him enough: the Council would never stop. Not until they broke his bonds, one by one.
He looked at Liora, at the mark burned into her arm, at the strength she still forced into her every breath. He looked at Selene, haunted by her student's face.
And he swore—quietly, fiercely—
"They will not take you. Either of you. Not while I breathe."
The Beacon pulsed, amused. We shall see.
Above them, the Spine groaned. The shadows had not been defeated. They had only withdrawn.
The climb would go on.
And the Council was waiting.