The mountain looms in front of me, vast and unbothered, shifting subtly as if rearranging its bones before my eyes. It should terrify me. And it does. But beneath that terror, there’s intrigue.
Maybe it isn’t trying to stop me.
Maybe it’s funnelling me somewhere.
Not forcing so much as guiding.
What if, all this time, it hasn’t been trying to hurt me at all? What if it’s been trying to help me?
Maybe Mourn Peak isn’t as cruel as its carved-out sister.
I drag a slow breath through my nose, tasting cold stone and dust, and lay my hand against the newly smooth surface.
“Fine,” I mutter to the living rock. “Show me.”
The symbol on my palm warms beneath my sleeve and seems to glow faintly. A vision that grounds me as I edge sideways along the slope.
The rock feels even warmer now. Unnervingly so. A faint vibration thrums through it, rhythmic—like a heartbeat echoing deep within the mountain. That hum snakes up through mybones, settling under my skin. My palm tingles beneath the mark.
The peak looms still—a distant thorn stabbing the clouds. Even if I reached it… what then? Where would a gem hide on terrain that shifts like a living illusion?
My gaze drifts to the jagged spine of the ridge.
The truth beneath.
The words drift through my mind again, and this time something clicks. Between the guilt and fear swirling through my thoughts, I realise what I’d missed.
Oriah hadn’t just warned that the peak would deceive me.
She’d told me where to look.
Not above.
Beneath.
My breath stutters.
What if reaching the summit isn’t the test?
What if the climb is the misdirection?
What if everyone who tried before wasn’t weak—they were climbing the wrong thing?
As I stare up at its shifting face, bruised and exhausted, something flickers at the edge of my vision—a distortion in the rock. A shimmer. Faint enough to dismiss as exhaustion…
Almost.
I take a step closer.
The air shifts and the stone… ripples?
Like water disturbed by a fingertip.
My breath catches.
The truth beneath.
Not a metaphor.
