Within the span of a breath, I decide to trust her. It may be the worst decision of my life, but in that case, it will also be my last.
“Jump now!” Mikail yells. He grabs a rucksack in one hand and uses the other to push off the sled.
The three of us dive toward the mountain. I’m last out. I’ve just barely cleared the sleigh when snow begins to pour down. More snow than I can fathom slides off the mountain. The ground shakes, the roar deafening.
Sora pulls us into a cut in the cliff face that’s maybe three feet deep. She leans with her back against the frigid stone. Mikail and I do the same.
I breathe hard as the snow begins to rise, piling up around us. Calves. Knees. Thighs. Sora was wrong. We’re going to be buried alive. No chance to fight. Mikail and I could’ve run if we just hadn’t listened to her.
My heart drums in my chest. I’ve been ready to die several times in my life by someone or something’s hand. This, however, is nature, a larger force than I can fight.
The califers and sleigh continue on the pass until suddenly they disappear, pushed off the road by tons of snow. They plummet into the gorge as if they were weightless.
I suppose it’s a comfort to know that we would’ve died either way.
Snow continues to rise with a thunderous groan until we’re covered past our waists, nearly up to Sora’s chest. My breathing is frantic, desperate. Each gasp feels like it may be my last. I want to reach out to Mikail, but he is on the other side of Sora.
I’m ready to shout my last goodbye even though I know it won’t be heard over the rushing snow, but as the avalanche cascades all around us, I realize we should’ve been completely covered by now.
Why are we alive?
I look up. Somehow, most of the snow is shooting straight out from where we are. The cut in the cliff created a slide of sorts where the vast majority of the avalanche misses us and falls into the gorge.
Sora knew it was our only chance to survive. She saved me. And more importantly, she saved Mikail.
I look at this girl, this beautiful thing. She’s staring ahead, her violet eyes wide. She has her hands on our chests, to keep us as close to the rock face as she can. It was her knowledge that put us into this small crevice of safety. The margin between life and death was about three feet.
She could’ve jumped out of the sled and let us fall, but she didn’t. Even though Mikail and I both lied. Even though she knew I hunted her father. It’s a selfless bravery, a debt I can’t hope to repay. But I can at least gift her honesty.
The snow subsides. The white of the avalanche turns back to the dawn sky. The roar is replaced by perfect quiet. As quickly as it started, the avalanche is over.
We made it. We’re all so relieved, we smile and then laugh. We’ve escaped Lord Yama’s clutches once again.
Sora looks over at me. She’s so beautiful, and it was her beauty that condemned her.
I take a deep breath.
“Your father never stopped looking for you,” I say. “Seok had threatened to slay your entire family if your father didn’t let you and Daysum go. Chul stopped fighting in order to save your mother and brothers, but he refused to sign the indenture certificates. Seok forged your father’s hand in front of a corrupt magistrate. Your father later found the judge and murdered him in his chambers. But your parents never sold you.”
Sora’s eyes well with tears. She’s sad, and yet there’s some relief and maybe even a little joy in her expression. Happiness fills my chest. I gave that to her.
Then her face shifts and her cheeks color. I’ve only just noticed her anger when her arm comes flying at me. Her fist connects with my face, and I see stars.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Aeri
The Northern Pass, Khitan
The snow is beautiful. Deadly and cold, but it really is gorgeous now that I’m rested and wearing furs and proper clothes for the winter. And it’s especially nice with Royo by my side.
He and I travel north, past glistening drifts and stunning frozen waterfalls. I stare at the icicles. The water has just stopped, suspended in air until thaw. The forests are coated, their green limbs dressed all in white. Everything is quiet and still as if I stopped time. But it wasn’t me. It was just the seasons.
Khitan has an untouched type of beauty. The farther we ride from Vashney, the more pristine it is. I could tell from the maps, and the priest confirmed, that nearly all the people live in the southernmost part of the country. Khitan is largely just frozen wasteland.
We are headed to the border of that tundra. The Light Mountains mark the end of the tree line in Khitan. There is seemingly nothing on the other side.
“We should stop soon and make camp before it’s too dark,” Royo says.
