Talia POV
The climb to Black River Ridge punished the unprepared.
Snow had softened into a sucking gray slush beneath their boots, clinging to every step like it wanted to pull them back down the mountain. The air smelled sharp and metallic, tinged with wet stone and pine sap split open by frost. Somewhere deeper in the forest, ice cracked under its own weight, echoing like distant bone breaking.
Talia adjusted her footing and kept moving.
Her body ached—hips sore, calves burning—but the weight she carried did not slow her. It grounded her. Every careful step reminded her why she was here and why failure was not an option.
Lucian moved ahead of her, clearing the path with methodical precision. His rifle rested easily against his shoulder, his knife visible at his thigh, his posture lo
