The morning air was sharper than it had been the day before. Frost clung to the stone steps as Hine descended from her room to the terrace where Kaien and Lurya waited. The ember bowl was gone now, returned to its place in the sacred fire, but she could still feel its warmth lingering in her palms.
Kaien looked her over as if assessing whether the trial had weakened her. "You will need more than willpower for the passes. Take this."
He handed her a small bundle wrapped in oiled cloth. Inside was a pair of heavy gloves lined with wool and a length of braided rope. The gloves were stiff, smelling faintly of smoke, and the rope was thicker than she had expected, with iron hooks on each end.
"The wind will strip warmth from you faster than hunger," Kaien said. "The rope is for the narrow crossings. Do not trust the stone beneath your feet. Even in summer it can betray you."
Lurya stepped forward with a smaller offering: a flat pouch filled with dried meat and bitter-smelling herbs. "Chew the leaves if the cold begins to cloud your head. They will keep you awake. Spit them out before they numb your tongue."
Hine accepted both gifts with a small bow. "And the watcher?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.
Kaien's gaze did not change, but there was the faintest pause before he answered. "If it wanted you dead, you would not have returned from the trial. That is all we know."
It was not the answer she wanted, but it was the only one they would give.
By the time she set out, the sun had climbed high enough to gild the peaks with pale gold. The path wound upward from the northern gate, curling around sheer cliffs before disappearing into the jagged teeth of the high passes. From a distance, the peaks looked like frozen waves, their edges sharp enough to cut the sky.
She walked steadily, the sound of her boots crunching on frost the only rhythm to mark the hours. The wind was constant here, whistling between the rocks, carrying with it the smell of snow.
By midday she reached the first crossing. It was a natural bridge, no wider than her shoulders, spanning a deep chasm. The rock was uneven and slick with a thin layer of ice. On either side, the drop was so sheer that she could not see the bottom.
She unwound the rope and hooked one end around a stone outcrop. The other end she looped around her waist, securing it as Kaien had shown her. She took a deep breath, set her eyes on the far side, and stepped onto the bridge.
The ice cracked faintly beneath her weight. She moved slowly, each step deliberate, keeping her center low. The wind tried to pull her sideways, and twice she had to stop, pressing herself against the rock until it eased.
When she reached the other side, she did not immediately untie the rope. Her legs were trembling, and she needed a moment to breathe. The rope had done nothing to shorten the crossing, but its weight had felt like a promise she could cling to if the stone betrayed her.
She pressed on. The trail beyond the bridge narrowed into a series of steep switchbacks, climbing higher into the peaks. Here, the air grew thinner, and every breath felt like a small battle. She chewed one of Lurya's bitter leaves, grimacing at its taste, but the fog lifting from her thoughts was worth it.
By the time the sun dipped toward the horizon, she had reached a small plateau sheltered by an overhanging cliff. It was here she decided to rest for the night. She gathered what dry brush she could find, lit a small fire, and sat close to it, her satchel beside her. The shard inside seemed to pulse faintly, as if responding to the flame.
She thought of Mavuika then. The night before her sister had stepped into the Sacred Flame, they had shared a simple meal together, speaking of small things... the harvest, the weather, as though neither of them knew what was coming. But Hine had known. She had seen it in Mavuika's eyes, that deep and steady acceptance.
The sound of loose stones shifting pulled her from her thoughts. She turned sharply, eyes scanning the darkness beyond the firelight.
A figure stood at the edge of the shadows.
It was the same height and shape as the watcher she had glimpsed during her trial. This time it was closer, close enough that she could see the glint of light along the curve of a mask.
"Who are you?" she called.
The figure did not move.
Hine rose to her feet, keeping the fire between them. "If you mean me harm, say it now."
Still nothing.
The figure tilted its head slightly, as if studying her, then stepped backward until the darkness swallowed it whole.
Hine stood there for a long moment, listening for any sign of movement, but the wind soon returned to fill the silence.
She sat again, though sleep came only in short, uneasy bursts. Each time she woke, she half expected to see the mask just beyond the circle of firelight.
At dawn, the world was washed in pale blue. Frost had settled on her cloak, and the fire was reduced to faint embers. She packed her things quickly, her eyes lingering on the shadows between the rocks.
The next stretch of the passes was worse than the first. Snow had begun to fall, clinging to the trail in uneven drifts. She had to slow her pace, probing the ground with her boot before putting her full weight down. Twice she nearly stepped into gaps hidden beneath the snow.
By midmorning she reached a narrow canyon. The walls rose high on either side, blocking the wind, but the air here felt heavy, almost too still. She advanced slowly, her breath loud in the silence.
Halfway through the canyon, she saw footprints in the snow ahead of her. They were fresh, the edges still sharp, and they led further into the pass.
Her fingers brushed the hilt of the knife at her belt. She followed the prints cautiously, each step leaving her own trail beside the first. The canyon curved, and when she rounded the bend, she stopped.
There, sitting on a flat stone as if it had been waiting, was the masked figure.
It did not rise or speak, only lifted a gloved hand and pointed toward the far end of the canyon.
Hine's voice was steady when she asked, "Why should I go that way?"
The figure lowered its hand and stood. For a moment she thought it might approach, but instead it stepped into a narrow crack in the canyon wall and vanished.
She waited, but it did not return.
Finally, she walked to the crack where it had disappeared. It was too narrow for her to pass through without removing her pack, and even then, it seemed to lead into darkness she could not see through. She chose instead to follow the direction it had pointed.
The canyon opened suddenly into a windswept ridge. From here she could see the land beyond the high passes... jagged valleys and a river frozen into white ribbons. Somewhere out there was the next step in her journey, and perhaps another piece of the path toward Mavuika.
But as she descended the ridge, she could not shake the feeling that the watcher had just spared her from something in that canyon. And she could not decide if that meant she owed it her thanks, or her suspicion.