Chapter 26. When the Mountain Speaks

The mountain had gone still.
Not quiet—still. The difference was subtle but impossible to miss for those born beneath its shadow. The winds no longer howled through the upper cliffs. The roots of the trees no longer whispered beneath the frost. Even the wolves stopped pacing.

Letha felt it first.

She awoke gasping, the runes burned into her palms searing brighter than they ever had. Her mouth tasted of iron and frost, her heart a hammer in her chest.

“It’s time,” she whispered.

Mairead found her standing barefoot on the stone altar outside the ruined chapel, the sunrise casting pale fire across her robes.

“You said you wouldn’t open it,” Mairead said.

Letha didn’t look back. “The mountain’s not asking anymore.”