I opened my eyes to find Laina still nestled against me. Today we'd begin the final ascent to the Temple of Echoes.
Three days of climbing had brought us to this point—the narrow path that would lead us to the Winter King himself. I'd faced monsters, slavers, and the killing cold of Frostfall, but something about today felt different. Final.
I carefully extricated myself from Laina's embrace, trying not to wake her. She mumbled something unintelligible and curled deeper into the furs. For a moment, I allowed myself to watch her—the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her black hair spilled across the makeshift pillow. In sleep her face softened, revealing glimpses of the person she might have been in a kinder world.
The door creaked open, and Joran slipped inside. His eyes—that strange gray-green that seemed to shift with his mood—were distant, unfocused.
"Weather?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
He blinked, as if only just noticing me. "Clear. For now." His gaze drifted toward the window, where dawn painted the sky in shades of bruised purple. "We should move soon. The path narrows to almost nothing in places. Better to navigate it in full daylight."
I nodded, studying him. "You alright?"
His eyes snapped back to me. "Fine." He moved to the hearth, kneeling to coax the embers back to life. "Wake her. We need to eat and go."
I watched him for a moment longer, then turned to Laina. Gently, I touched her shoulder. "Laina. Time to get up."
Her eyes opened immediately, that vibrant violet that never failed to catch me off guard. Unlike most people, Laina didn't gradually wake—she snapped from sleep to alertness in an instant.
"Is it time?" she asked, sitting up and pushing hair from her face.
"Almost. Joran says the weather's holding."
She nodded, reaching for her boots. As she pulled them on, I noticed her hands were steady, her movements fluid. Whatever nervousness I felt, whatever strangeness had overtaken Joran, Laina seemed immune. Her focus was singular: reach the Temple, end the curse.
We ate a sparse breakfast of dried meat and hard bread, washing it down with snowmelt heated over the fire.
No one spoke.
Finally, Joran stood. "Let's move." He shouldered his pack and headed for the door without checking if we followed.
Laina and I exchanged a glance.
"What's with him?" she whispered.
I shrugged. "Nerves, maybe. We're close now."
"Joran doesn't get nervous."
"Everyone gets nervous," I said, gathering my things. "Even scouts who never smile."
She didn't look convinced, but she followed me out into the biting morning air.
The path Joran had chosen began just beyond our shelter—a narrow track cut into the face of the mountain that spiraled upward toward a distant pass. From there, if his maps were correct, we'd have a clear view of the Temple of Echoes.
"Single file," Joran called back to us. "Step exactly where I step. The snow hides weak spots."
I gestured for Laina to go ahead of me. She hesitated, then nodded and fell in behind Joran. I took up the rear, scanning the slopes above us for any sign of movement. The mountain was eerily still, as if holding its breath.
We climbed in silence for the first hour, the only sounds our labored breathing and the crunch of snow beneath our boots. The path grew steadily narrower, until at points it was barely wide enough for a single person to pass. On our right, the mountain rose in a sheer wall of ice-slick stone. On our left, a drop that disappeared into nothingness.
Halfway up, Joran suddenly stopped. Laina nearly collided with him, catching herself at the last moment.
"What is it?" she asked.
He didn't respond, staring at something ahead that I couldn't see from my position.
"Joran?" I called.
His shoulders tensed. Then, slowly, he turned to look at us. His face had gone pale, eyes wide with an emotion I'd never seen in him before.
"We need to turn back," he said.
Laina blinked in surprise. "What? Why?"
"The path ahead... it's not right."
I moved forward carefully until I stood beside Laina. From this vantage point, I could see what had given Joran pause. The path ahead disappeared around a bend, but just visible beyond it was a section where the trail had collapsed entirely, leaving a gap of at least ten feet.
"We can jump that," I said, assessing the distance.
Joran shook his head. "It's not just the gap. Look at the snow."
I squinted, trying to see what he meant. The snow on the far side of the gap seemed... wrong somehow. It didn't lie flat against the path but hovered slightly above it, as if suspended in air.
"What is that?" Laina asked.
"An illusion," Joran said, his voice barely audible over the wind. "The path isn't there. It's a trap."
I frowned. "How do you know?"
Joran ignored my question. "We need to find another way."
"There is no other way," Laina said. "Not unless we backtrack three days."
"Then we backtrack."
I studied the gap, thinking. "What if we use rope? Secure it on this side, swing across?"
Joran's jaw tightened. "And anchor it to what? There's nothing but ice and loose stone."
I summoned Heartseeker, the dagger materializing in my palm with a flare of warmth. "We make an anchor."
Laina's eyes widened. "You think you can melt the blade into the rock?"
"Worth a try." I approached the edge of the path where it had crumbled away. Kneeling, I pressed Heartseeker's blade against the stone. The dagger pulsed with heat, its crimson glow intensifying as I focused my will through it.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then I felt the stone begin to yield, softening around the blade. I pushed harder, driving Heartseeker deeper until half the blade was embedded in the rock.
"It's working," Laina breathed.
I held the position for a count of ten, then slowly withdrew the dagger. The stone had melted and reformed around the blade's shape, creating a narrow slot in the rock.
"Perfect," I said, returning Heartseeker to whatever space it occupied when not in use. I uncoiled the rope from my pack and threaded it through the newly created anchor point, testing its strength with a sharp tug. It held.
Joran watched with a frown. "Even if this works, what about the path beyond? If it's an illusion—"
"We'll deal with that when we reach it," I said, securing the rope around my waist. "I'll go first. If I make it, you follow. If not..." I shrugged. "At least you'll know not to try."
Laina caught my arm. "Isaiah—"
"I'll be fine," I said, giving her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm always fine."
Before she could protest further, I backed up a few paces, took a deep breath, and ran for the edge. The moment my feet left solid ground, time seemed to slow. I sailed through the air, the rope trailing behind me, the abyss yawning below. For a heartbeat, I thought I'd misjudged the distance.
Then my feet hit the far side, and I stumbled forward, catching myself before I could fall. The snow beneath my boots felt solid enough, despite its strange appearance.
"Made it!" I called back, turning to face them. "The path is real. It's just... disguised somehow."
Laina didn't hesitate. She secured the rope around her waist and made the jump, landing beside me. Joran followed more reluctantly, his landing less steady but successful nonetheless.
Once we were all across, I retrieved the rope and coiled it back into my pack. "See? Nothing to worry about."
Joran's expression remained troubled. "We should be careful. This whole area... it feels wrong."
I couldn't argue with that. There was an unnatural stillness to the air, as if we'd entered a place where the normal rules no longer applied. The snow continued to hover slightly above the path, creating the illusion of walking on air.
We pressed on, the path winding ever upward. Around midday, we reached a plateau where the trail widened enough to allow us to walk side by side. We paused to eat and rest, though none of us had much appetite.
"How much further?" I asked, breaking the silence.
Joran consulted his mental map. "If we maintain this pace, we should reach the Temple by tomorrow morning."
"Just in time," I muttered.
Laina glanced at me. "What do you mean?"
I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "Nothing. Just... eager to get this over with."
She didn't look convinced, but she didn't press the issue.
We resumed our climb after a brief rest, the path narrowing once more as it curved around the mountain's shoulder. The wind picked up, carrying ice crystals that stung any exposed skin. I pulled my collar higher and kept my eyes fixed on Laina's back, tracking the steady rhythm of her steps.
The afternoon wore on, the light fading faster than it should have. By the time we reached another small plateau, darkness was already gathering at the edges of the sky.
"We should make camp," Joran said, surveying the relatively flat space. "Pushing on in darkness would be suicide."
I nodded, dropping my pack and stretching my aching shoulders. "I'll gather what wood I can find."
"I'll help," Laina said quickly.
We gathered what meager fuel we could find and returned to camp. Joran had created a small hollow in the snow, sheltered by the windbreak and the natural curve of the mountain. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
The night passed in fitful bursts of sleep, interrupted by the howling wind and the constant, gnawing cold. I kept Heartseeker close, drawing on its warmth to keep myself and Laina from freezing. Joran refused to join us, maintaining his solitary vigil at the edge of our small camp.
Dawn broke with reluctant gray light that did little to dispel the gloom. We ate quickly, packed our few belongings, and continued our ascent.
The final stretch was the most treacherous yet—a narrow spine of rock that connected our mountain to the one that housed the Temple of Echoes. On either side, sheer drops disappeared into swirling mist. The wind tore at us mercilessly, threatening to pluck us from our precarious perch and cast us into the void.
We moved with agonizing slowness, testing each step before committing our weight. Halfway across, I glanced up and caught my first glimpse of our destination.
The Temple of Echoes rose from the mountain's peak like a dream made solid—towers of gleaming white stone that seemed to bend and twist in ways that defied natural law. Even from this distance, I could feel its power, a subtle vibration that resonated in my bones.
"There it is," Laina breathed, her voice barely audible over the wind.
Joran said nothing, his eyes fixed on the path ahead.
We reached the far side as the sun began its descent toward the horizon. From here, the path widened and curved upward toward the Temple's entrance—a massive arch of white stone carved with symbols I couldn't decipher.
As we approached, I felt a strange pressure building in my head, like the moment before a storm breaks. The Temple seemed to waver in my vision, as if it existed partially in another reality.
We stopped a hundred yards from the entrance, all of us sensing that to proceed further required a moment of preparation, of acknowledgment.
"We made it," Laina said.
I checked my mental countdown. Three hours, thirty-six minutes, and nineteen seconds remained before my trial expired. Just enough time to enter the Temple, face the Guardian, and claim the Heart of Winter.
"So we did," I replied. My hands were steady, but my heart hammered against my ribs. "Let's finish this."