He didn't realize how much tension he'd been carrying until it started to let go.
Lindarion dropped into a crouch near the edge, one arm resting across his knee. He let the cold rock press through his gloves. It felt real. More real than most of the past few days. Not sharp. Just there. Steady.
The lake below shimmered faintly, even under the clouds. Not like water. More like glass someone had tried to polish and then gave up halfway.
He watched a line of trees bend slightly in the wind, their shadows too long for the sun's position.
That was the thing about climbing mountains. You could lie to yourself about how close you were to the end, but once the land opened up like this, there was nowhere to hide. It was honest in a way the cities never were.
He wasn't used to it.
Behind him, Meren collapsed in a dramatic sprawl against a lumpy patch of snow and groaned.
"I think my soul left halfway up the last slope."
