Daylight filtered through cracks in the hut's walls, casting thin lines across the dirt floor. Joran stood by the door, gear packed and ready, while Laina knelt by the hearth, feeding small twigs into a fresh fire.
"You were supposed to wake me."
Laina glanced up, a strand of black hair falling across her face. "You needed rest."
"We all did," Joran added, his tone carefully neutral. His eyes, that strange mix of gray and green, shifted between us with quiet assessment. "How are the hands?"
I flexed my fingers, testing the limits. The bandages Laina had applied were tight but not restrictive.
"Better," I said.
Joran nodded once. "Good. We need to move. Storm's clearing, but it won't last."
I rose to my feet, ignoring the protest from various parts of my body. My clothes had dried overnight, stiff with salt from marsh water and crusted blood. I pulled them on, feeling the rough fabric catch on my bandages.
"How much farther to the highlands?" I asked.
"We'll reach the foothills by midday if we keep a good pace," Joran replied, already moving toward the door. "I'll scout ahead. Join me when you're ready."
The door opened and closed, letting in a brief gust of cold air. Neither Laina nor I spoke as his footsteps faded into the distance.
She stood, dusting off her hands on her pants. Her violet eyes met mine directly, no hint of regret or uncertainty in them.
"About last night," she began.
"Do we need to talk about it?"
"No," she said after a moment. "But we should acknowledge it happened."
I nodded, appreciating her directness. "Consider it acknowledged."
She smiled slightly. "Good. Because we have more important things to worry about right now than... whatever this is."
"The Temple."
"The Temple," she agreed. She hesitated, then added, "But that doesn't mean it didn't matter."
"I know."
She crossed the small space between us and reached for my injured hands. I let her take them, watching as she inspected the bandages with clinical precision.
"These should hold for today," she said. "But I'll need to change them tonight."
"Thank you."
Her eyes flicked up to mine. "For the bandages, or...?"
"Yes," I said simply.
She nodded, releasing my hands and stepping back. "Let's catch up to Joran before he decides we've been eaten by marsh monsters."
***
The last leg of our journey through the marshes was mercifully uneventful. The path gradually rose as we progressed, leading us out of the sodden lowlands and onto increasingly solid ground. By midday, the terrain had changed dramatically – the twisted trees and treacherous bogs giving way to rocky outcroppings and sparse, hardy grasses.
"Look there," Joran said, pointing ahead.
On the horizon, barely visible through the haze, the silhouette of mountains rose like jagged teeth against the pale sky.
"The Fading Highlands," Laina said, a note of something like reverence in her voice. "My father used to tell stories about them."
"What kind of stories?" I asked.
She shrugged, adjusting the bow strapped across her back. "The usual. Hidden treasures. Ancient magic. Monsters that would eat little girls who didn't finish their dinner."
"Were you the type who didn't finish her dinner?"
A genuine smile formed on her face. "I was the type who questioned why I had to eat my vegetables when the other kids didn't."
"And what did your father say to that?"
"He said I needed to grow stronger than them, so I could protect them when they couldn't protect themselves." Her smile faded. "Turns out he was right."
Joran, who'd been walking several paces ahead, stopped suddenly. He raised a hand, signaling for silence.
We froze, instantly alert.
"What is it?" I mouthed.
He shook his head slightly, eyes scanning the landscape. His body had gone completely still, only his eyes moving as they tracked something I couldn't see.
Then I heard it – a soft, rhythmic humming that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Laina's hand moved to her knife. "Frost Heralds," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I reached for Heartseeker and Frostbite, feeling their familiar weight materialize in my palms. The daggers thrummed with energy – Heartseeker warm and eager, Frostbite cold and patient.
"How many?" I asked under my breath.
"Hard to tell," Joran replied without turning. "They travel in groups of three or six. Never alone."
"What do we do?"
"Don't move," Laina said. "Don't make a sound."
We stood motionless as the humming grew louder. The sound was strangely melodic, almost beautiful in its otherworldliness. Small crystals of snow began to dance in the air around us, vibrating in rhythm with the sound.
"Don't listen too closely," Joran warned. "The song pulls you in."
I focused on my breathing, keeping it steady and shallow. My eyes tracked the dancing snow crystals, watching as they formed patterns in the air – complex, geometric shapes that shifted and reformed with hypnotic precision.
Just snow. Just ice. Nothing more.
The humming peaked, then slowly began to recede. After what felt like an eternity, Joran's shoulders relaxed slightly.
"They've passed," he said, still keeping his voice low. "Moving north."
"We were lucky," Laina added. "They didn't sense us."
I released the breath I'd been holding, allowing the daggers to dematerialize. "What exactly are Frost Heralds?"
"Death," Joran said simply. "They announce the arrival of something worse."
"Like what?"
He exchanged a glance with Laina. "The Reflectors, usually. Or sometimes the Winter King himself."
This place is a fucking death trap. How has anyone survived here?
"We should keep moving," Laina said. "Put as much distance between us and their path as possible."
Joran nodded. "The highland clans have shelters throughout these foothills. If we push hard, we might reach one by nightfall."
***
The landscape changed gradually as we climbed higher. The ground became rockier, with patches of hardy mountain grass poking through the snow. Stunted trees twisted by constant wind clung to outcroppings, their branches reaching away from the prevailing gales.
Laina walked beside me now, close enough that our shoulders occasionally brushed. Each time it happened, neither of us acknowledged it, but neither did we move away.
Joran, walking ahead of us, pretended not to notice.
"The air feels different here," I observed, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between us.
Laina nodded. "Thinner. Clearer too."
"It's not just that. It's like..." I paused, trying to find the right words. "It's like reality itself is stretched thin."
She gave me a curious look. "You feel it too?"
"Feel what?"
"The wavering," she said. "Like the world isn't quite solid here."
I nodded slowly. "I thought it was just me."
"My father wrote about it in his journals. He called it 'the thinning of the veil.' Said the highlands exist partly in our world and partly... elsewhere."
"Where's elsewhere?"
She shrugged. "He never said. Or if he did, I never found that page."
Ahead of us, Joran stopped abruptly, crouching low behind an outcropping of rock. We immediately followed suit, dropping into defensive positions.
"What is it?" Laina whispered.
Joran pointed silently toward a narrow pass between two hills. I squinted, trying to see what had caught his attention.
At first, I saw nothing. Then, as if materializing from the very air, figures appeared – tall, slender forms with reflective skin that mirrored the snow and rock around them. They moved with unnatural grace, their bodies flowing rather than stepping.
"Reflectors," Laina breathed, her hand instinctively reaching for mine.
I let her take it, feeling her fingers tighten around mine. "How many?"
"Five," Joran replied, his voice barely audible. "A hunting party."
We watched in tense silence as the creatures glided through the pass. They seemed to shimmer in and out of visibility, their reflective bodies perfectly mimicking the landscape behind them.
"They haven't seen us," Joran whispered after a moment. "They're following the Heralds' path."
"Can we go around?" I asked.
He nodded. "There's another route. Longer, but safer."
"Then that's the one we take," I said firmly.
Laina's fingers were still intertwined with mine. She squeezed once, then released her grip.
"Let's go," she said.
***
The detour added hours to our journey. By the time the sun began to sink toward the horizon, we were still climbing through the foothills, with no sign of the highland shelters Joran had mentioned.
"We need to find cover soon," he said, scanning the darkening landscape. "Night falls quickly here."
I nodded, feeling the fatigue in my legs. The thin mountain air made every step more demanding, and my injured hands throbbed with a dull, persistent ache.
"There," Laina said suddenly, pointing to a formation of rocks ahead. "Is that what I think it is?"
Joran followed her gaze, then nodded. "A clan marker. Good eyes."
We approached the formation – three stones stacked in a specific pattern, with strange symbols etched into their surfaces. Joran studied them briefly, then adjusted his course slightly.
"This way," he said. "The shelter should be just over that rise."
Sure enough, as we crested the hill, a structure came into view – a low, stone building built directly into the side of the mountain. It was nearly invisible against the rock face, its walls constructed from the same stone as the mountain itself.
"Will it be occupied?" I asked.
"Hopefully," Joran replied. "Highland hospitality is legendary, but only if someone's home to offer it."
We approached cautiously. No smoke rose from the small chimney, and no light showed through the single, narrow window.
Joran knocked firmly on the wooden door. We waited, hearing nothing but the whistling of the wind.
After a moment, he tried again, louder this time. Still no response.
"Looks like we'll be our own hosts tonight," Laina said, reaching past him to push the door open.
The interior was a single room, sparsely furnished but clean. A stone hearth dominated one wall, with a stack of firewood neatly piled beside it. A rough wooden table stood in the center, surrounded by three stools. Against the far wall, a platform covered in furs served as a bed.
"Not bad," I said, stepping inside. "Better than the witch's hut, at least."
Joran closed the door behind us, immediately setting about checking the shelter's defenses. "Windows are secure. Door's solid. We should be safe here for the night."
Laina moved to the hearth, expertly arranging kindling and logs. "I'll get a fire started."
I stood in the center of the room, suddenly unsure of my role. My hands were too damaged for delicate work, and I lacked Joran's knowledge of highland shelters.
"I'll just... stand here and look pretty, I guess," I muttered.
Laina glanced up, a smile tugging at her lips. "You could check the storage chest," she suggested, nodding toward a wooden box in the corner. "Highland clans usually leave supplies for travelers."
I crossed to the chest and knelt beside it, working the simple latch with my bandaged fingers. Inside, I found dried meat, hard bread, and a skin of what smelled like strong alcohol.
"Dinner," I announced, holding up my findings. "And something to help us sleep."
"The highlands welcome us," Joran said. "We should leave something in return when we go."
"Like what?" I asked. "We don't exactly have much to spare."
"Doesn't matter what it is. It's the gesture that counts."
By now, Laina had coaxed the fire to life. Warm light filled the small space, pushing back the chill that had settled in our bones during the day's journey.
"Welcome to the highlands," she said, looking up at me with those remarkable violet eyes. "We made it."
"Part of the way," I corrected. "We still have the mountains ahead."
"Always looking forward," Joran observed, taking a seat at the table. "Never content with the progress made."
I shrugged, setting our meager supplies on the table. "Forward is the only direction worth moving in."
"Sometimes it's good to pause," Laina said, joining us. "To appreciate the moment before it passes."
Joran cleared his throat. "I'll take first watch," he said, rising from his seat. "You two get some rest."
As he moved toward the door, I caught the knowing look in his eyes. He'd seen the change between us, understood it for what it was.
"Joran," I called after him.
He paused, turning back.
"I'm glad we brought you."
He nodded once, acknowledgment and acceptance in the gesture. "Get some sleep, Isaiah. Tomorrow we climb."