The path through the mountains was carved in blood.
Old glyphs stained the stone—some scratched in with trembling hands, others burned deep with searing magic. Briar traced one with her fingers. It pulsed beneath her touch.
"They're warnings," Corva said. "Left by those who came before you."
Briar didn't flinch. "Or by me."
Snow began to fall. The path narrowed, twisting between jagged cliffs. The wind howled like it remembered every scream.
Kael pointed ahead. "There's movement."
A figure staggered from the rocks. Hooded. Bleeding. It collapsed at their feet.
Briar rushed forward. The woman's eyes flicked open—pale blue, glowing faintly.
"You're too late," she rasped. "The Ash King has found the threshold."
"What threshold?" Briar demanded.
"The Gate of Bone."
Then she died, mouth still parted.
Kael cursed. "What's the Gate of Bone?"
Corva's face paled. "The place where death and memory meet. If he opens it, the veil will fall."
Briar stood slowly. "Then we get there first."
She placed two fingers to the woman's forehead and whispered a name that rose from somewhere deep inside her.
The woman's body turned to ash—and was carried away on the wind.
The mountain path opened wider.
The Gate waited.