Chapter 26. When the Mountain Speaks

The mountain had gone still.

Not quiet—still. The difference was subtle, but unmistakable to those born beneath its shadow. The winds no longer threaded their way through the upper cliffs, and the roots beneath the frost no longer whispered to one another in the dark. Even the wolves seemed to sense it, their restless pacing stilled as though the land itself had drawn a breath and refused to release it.

Letha felt the change before anyone else.

She woke with a sharp gasp, sitting upright as the runes burned into her palms flared brighter than they ever had. Pain lanced through her hands, searing and insistent, and the taste of iron and frost flooded her mouth. Her heart hammered as if trying to outrun what she already knew.

“It’s time,” she whispered into the dimness.