The mountains were merciless.
Climbing them was agony—steep, icy, wind so sharp it felt like it cut bone. But there was no choice. Mara's men would search the lowlands.
They had to go higher.
Kael led the way, carving a path through snow and rock. Aria followed, lungs burning. Rhea stumbled often but never complained.
Hours passed. Then days.
They found shelter in a cave high above the clouds, just as a storm rolled in.
The wind screamed outside, but inside it was quiet—too quiet.
"I can't keep doing this," Rhea whispered one night. "Running. Hiding."
"You're not hiding," Aria said gently. "You're surviving."
"But for what?" Rhea asked. "To be hunted forever?"
Kael was silent.
Aria stared at the flames dancing in the makeshift fireplace. "No," she said. "Not forever. We're going to end this. We're going to find the ones who started this and make sure they can't hurt anyone else."
"And if we don't?" Rhea asked.
Aria met her eyes. "Then we'll die trying."