The trail that seemed challenging yesterday now feels even worse. The snow has somehow created shadows that weren't there before, and that plays tricks with my depth perception. Or perhaps it's the thin air creating illusions. Even the auroras seem different today—sharper, more angular, cutting across the sky like warning signs.
I should be focusing on the trek, but my mind keeps wandering to last night and the kiss that will forever overshadow all others.
Shovia looks at me with a frown, and I debate whether I should tell her about what happened last night, but I haven't had enough time to process it yet, so I'm not sure what to tell her.
I'm probably overthinking it like I do everything else, and in a day or two, I will smile fondly at the memory.
It was just a kiss, and I will enjoy many more in the future, but not with Alar.
The thought is like a dagger to my stupid heart, but I prefer to face reality rather than live in fantasy.
—From the journal of Kailin Strom
After the break, Shovia gave me another loaded look that had a hint of accusation in it, but she knew better than to ask me what I had been writing in my journal. I had made it clear a long time ago that what I put in there were things I wasn't ready to share with anyone else.
After another hour or so, the wind died down to occasional gusts that whipped loose snow into brief, blinding flurries, but the storm had left the mountain transformed. Every surface was coated in what would have been beautiful if it weren't so dangerously slippery. The snow concealed loose rocks and patches of ice, making each step a careful negotiation for survival.
"Watch your footing here," Lysara called back to our group, sticking a small red flag into the mountainside to warn others to be careful.
We'd passed several of those on the way, left by the group leaders who had gone ahead of us, and in those places, others followed my example of keeping one hand pressed against the mountain face as I'd been doing since the start of the trek. The path was narrow, with a sheer drop on the other side, but even though it was easily wide enough for two people, we chose to go single file.
Shovia, being as fearless as usual, slowed down until I reached her and fell into step beside me, precariously close to the drop. "Are you okay? You look like you haven't slept."
"I'm tired and hungry." I told her the truth, just not all of it. "Like everyone else."
She gave me a look that said she didn't believe me but wouldn't push it. Yet. "Did you hear what they're saying about the trail collapse yesterday?" She changed the subject.
I shook my head. "What about it?"
"Break time!" Lysara called out before Shovia could answer.
Our group bunched together on a relatively large, flat section off the trail. The snow had melted from the rocks there, probably thanks to other groups stopping at the same spot before us.
Lysara waited until everyone found a place to sit and took a sip of water. "I have news that you all should be aware of," she said, her voice pitched low but carrying clearly. "A team was sent to investigate the trail collapse and construct a sturdier bridge than the makeshift one we built. They found evidence that the collapse wasn't natural. Someone had dug out big holes in the trail at key points and filled them with loose rocks so no one would notice. It was deliberate sabotage."
As a collective intake of breath was followed by urgent murmuring, I felt the blood drain from my face. We'd been so close to losing Shovia, Codric, and Baila.
"Who would do something like that?" someone asked. "The Shedun worms can't burrow through Mount Hope. It's a well-known fact that it's made from hard rock."
That was one of the explanations for why the Circle of Fate was located on its summit and why the Citadel had been built on the same mountain range. It was supposedly the most secure area of Elucia. Well, Podana was safe too, but that was largely due to the significant military presence there.
However, the truth was that the Circle had once been a magnificent temple before it was destroyed during the First Extinction War. According to legends, a beautiful dome had once rested on top of the pillars, sheltering the open temple from snowfall, and underground chambers had once housed a vast library of sacred writings, in addition to numerous artifacts, treasures, and accommodations for the temple staff.
The invaders had destroyed everything, and only the shaman had access to the underground chambers that were still structurally safe to enter. I often wondered why the temple hadn't been rebuilt. Perhaps the knowledge of how to construct the dome had been lost?
"The Shedun have agents everywhere," Morek said grimly. "They could have snuck in among the pilgrims, come up here while people were still arriving, and come down before anyone noticed. It's much easier to trek up here without fasting."
"Or it could be someone among us," another pilgrim suggested. "We don't all know each other."
The implications of that statement sent a chill through our group, and people started exchanging suspicious glances, trust evaporating like morning mist. Naturally, Alar and Codric were the recipients of the worst of it.
"That's enough speculation," Lysara cut in. "As a precaution, we're implementing the quintet protocol effective immediately."
That meant forming a group of five again, all of us roped together, with the strongest and steadiest in the lead, and the next strongest bringing up the rear. The other three just hooked up to the rope between them.
"I'll take point this time," Shovia said, her voice cutting through my rising panic. "I might not be the strongest, but out of all of you, I have the clearest head. The altitude isn't affecting me as badly as the rest of you."
She was right. While most of us were struggling with varying degrees of disorientation and hallucinations, Shovia seemed the least affected. Still, if the trail crumbled and people needed saving, she didn't have a man's muscle power to pull off a rescue like Morek had done. On the other hand, a clear head and quick thinking were no less important than physical strength.
