Chapter 113: The Ascent
The slope didn’t end at the treeline.
It bent upward, steep and narrow, carved between two ridges like a forgotten scar. Leon kept his pace steady, even as the gravel slipped beneath his boots. Behind him, Mira adjusted the strap of her pack, eyes never still. Tomas trailed last, muttering as he wiped sweat from his brow.
"You’d think escaping death underground would buy us flat land for once," Tomas grumbled.
Leon didn’t respond. The path ahead demanded focus. Every turn narrowed, every ledge grew tighter. The trees here were twisted, windblown. Old. Not like the growth of the lower valley. These had seen things. Bled sap in storms not written in any record.
Halfway up, Leon stopped.
Ahead, a cairn of black stones blocked the trail. Not natural. Each one was flat, carved at the edges, marked with sigils half-worn by time.
Mira knelt by them. "Wardstones. But not ours."
Leon studied the shapes. The spiral was there again. Smaller, less defined, like a seed of the greater seal.
Tomas crouched and prodded one. "Think it was meant to keep something in, or keep something out?"
Leon didn’t answer. He stepped around it.
As they climbed, the wind changed.
No longer stale. It carried voices. Not loud. Not clear. Like whispers through teeth.