The night refused to end.
It stretched, vast and merciless, pressed flat against the mountainside like a lid sealing a coffin. The howls never stopped—only changed. Sometimes distant, sometimes near enough that Levi felt them vibrating through the frozen stone beneath his spine.
SFX: HOOOOOWL—oooo—HRAAAWL
Predators pacing. Measuring.
Levi lay rigid in his shallow trench, every muscle locked, eyes wide and unblinking as alien stars wheeled overhead. Their constellations meant nothing to him—sharp, wrong shapes etched into a sky that did not belong to his world.
Sleep tugged at him.
Sleep was a mistake.
Beside him, Mira and Torin breathed in shallow rhythm, their silhouettes barely more than darker shadows against the piled snow walls. The cold had already chewed through layers of cloth and skin. Levi could no longer feel his fingers. His toes had vanished next—then the sensation crept upward, slow and inevitable, like ice claiming glass.
He tucked his hands beneath his arms.
It barely helped.
A soft rustle broke the stillness.
Mira shifted closer, her voice a thin filament in the dark. "Can't sleep either?"
Levi swallowed. "Afraid to."
Torin let out a low grunt. "Good. Those things out there?" A pause. "They're waiting for someone to relax."
The wind hissed between the rocks.
Mira hesitated, then whispered, "I… I have something. A secret, maybe. From before."
Levi turned toward her. Even in starlight, her eyes shone—uncertain, trembling.
"In my village," she said softly, "I was a healer. Nothing grand. No spells. Just… a knack. Herbs. Poultices. A touch that helped fevers break, wounds close." Her breath fogged the air. "My mother said it ran in our blood."
Torin stirred. "And here?"
"It's faint," she admitted. "Like an echo. This body—" her voice faltered, "—it feels wrong. Like borrowed skin. But sometimes… I can still feel it."
Levi's teeth chattered. "Can you show us?"
For a heartbeat, nothing.
Then Mira reached out.
Her fingers brushed his—cold against cold.
At first, there was only numbness.
Then—
Warmth.
It bloomed slowly where she touched him, gentle and patient, spreading through his palm like sunlight soaking into frozen ground.
SFX: thrum… thrum…
Pins and needles flared as sensation returned—sharp, almost painful—but Levi gasped anyway, breath tearing from his chest.
Feeling.
Real feeling.
He hadn't realized how desperate he was for it until now.
He exhaled, shaking. "Thank you."
Mira withdrew her hand, but her voice had steadied. "It won't fix much. Barely takes the edge off. But… maybe it helps us last."
Torin rumbled approval. "More than most have. Keep that close, girl."
The warmth lingered in Levi's fingers—an ember defying the cold. Something fragile took root between them. Not hope. Not yet.
Trust.
They were still prey.
But they were prey together.
Dawn arrived grudgingly.
The bloated blue sun crawled over the peaks, casting sickly light across the ledge. Guards kicked snow into the trenches, rousing survivors with spear hafts and curses.
Not all rose.
Two hollows remained silent.
Empty.
Levi didn't look too long.
The march resumed immediately, crueler than before. The trail narrowed into knife-edged passes where wind screamed through stone corridors.
SFX: WOOOOOO—KRAAAASH
At dawn, packs had been issued—burlap sacks heavy with frozen rations and coiled rope. The straps bit deep. Bodies already pushed past exhaustion bent further under the weight.
Torin moved without comment.
When a slight woman ahead stumbled, he shifted closer and lifted half her burden onto his own back. When an older man lagged, straps sawing into his shoulders, Torin adjusted them with blunt efficiency.
No thanks demanded.
Levi watched, awed.
In his frail vessel, even the pack alone burned. With its contents, his shoulders screamed.
During a brief halt, Torin caught him fumbling with the straps.
Without a word, the big man stepped in—tightening buckles, shifting weight higher.
"Thanks," Levi muttered.
Torin shrugged, beard crusted with ice. "Laborer back home. Hauled stone. Timber. This?" He snorted. "Cold's worse than the weight. You weren't built for this. So lean when you need."
It wasn't kindness dressed as mercy.
It was protection.
By midday, fewer than half the servants remained.
Cassian called a halt on a wind-scoured plateau. The guards formed a ring. Torches smoldered low.
Cassian dismounted, movements smooth, predatory. His amber eyes swept the survivors—gaunt faces, hollow eyes.
"You've lasted longer than most," he said lightly. "That's worth something."
He paced, boots crunching snow.
"But Blackwind Mountain is only beginning its test."
His gaze lingered—on the limping elder, the shivering youth—then settled on Levi's trio. Mira's fragile stance. Torin's stubborn defiance. Levi's thin frame.
Marking.
"The mountain demands sacrifice," Cassian continued. "Not just flesh. Will. The strength to leave weakness behind."
A smile curved his lips.
"Not all of you will see nightfall. The ghouls grow bold. The cold grows hungry." He mounted smoothly. "And higher up…"
A pause.
"Other things wait."
SFX: CLACK—snort
"March."
The column moved.
The wind rose, carrying faint, distant cries that may—or may not—have been human.
Levi glanced at Mira. At Torin.
They had each other.
For now.
And on Blackwind Mountain, now was everything.