The snow had finally stopped.

  What remained drifted in soft spirals down the mountain slopes, glowing faintly in the reflection of the campfire’s dying light. Most of the camp slept—Lira wrapped tightly in her cloak near the embers, Kael resting with his hood pulled low, one hand loosely curled near his bow.

  Only Ronan stayed awake, sitting at the far edge of camp with his sword laid across his knees. His eyes never left the shifting shadows that stretched toward the ridge.

  Eis moved quietly, her steps barely disturbing the thin crust of frost. Beneath her boots, the ley lines pulsed with a faint, steady rhythm—calm now, as though the mountain itself had settled.

  When she reached him, Ronan didn’t look up, but his voice was low, even.

  “You should sleep. We’ve got another climb tomorrow.”

  “So do you,” she said.

  A soft breath escaped him—amusement, maybe.

  “You’re right. I just prefer to watch the dark until it stops looking back.”

  Eis stood beside him, both of them gazing out over the valley. The stars were sharp tonight, cold and distant.

  “That thing today,” Ronan said after a long silence. “It wasn’t just random, was it?”

  “No,” Eis answered.

  “Thought so,” he muttered. A faint plume of steam rose with his sigh. “It’s not a good sign.”

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  “It knew we were coming,” she admitted. “It means Vauren was expecting to be followed.”

  Ronan’s jaw flexed, his tone tightening into something thoughtful.

  “We may be walking into a trap.”

  Eis glanced at him. Her eyes—cool grey even in the low light—met his steadily.

  “But we have to keep moving regardless,” she said.

  “That simple?”

  “Usually is.”

  He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

  “You’ve got an interesting way of approaching the unknown. Not much room for luck or destiny.”

  “I don’t believe in either.”

  “No?”

  “No. Only cause and consequence.”

  Ronan studied her in silence, then leaned back slightly, resting his weight on his hands.

  Ronan was quiet for a while as they walked, boots crunching softly over frostbitten stone. The path narrowed ahead, sunlight catching along the vaulting cliffs.

  “Than whatever caused our meeting…,” he said at last, not looking at her, “…I’m thankful for it.”

  Eis glanced at him, surprised—not by the words, but by how simply he said them.

  “Sometimes things just… happen.” she said.

  Ronan nodded once. “Maybe.” He adjusted the strap of his pack. “But I know what came after.”

  The wind stirred, carrying the faint sound of snow slipping loose somewhere above them.

  He met her gaze then, expression steady, unassuming.

  “I’m glad we found you,” Ronan said. “However it happened.”

  Eis looked ahead again, the corners of her mouth softening just slightly.

  “So am I.”

  The words were simple, but they settled heavier than steel.

  Eis didn’t answer, but her eyes softened for a brief heartbeat. That was enough.

  They sat together in comfortable silence as the fire crackled behind them and the ley line thrummed beneath the earth—a faint, ancient lullaby carried by the mountain.

  The night no longer felt cold.

  A soft wind slipped through the cliffs, brushing past them like a whisper of acknowledgment.