The winds tear across my skin, ripping and thrashing and desperate to get in. The climb has been nothing short of brutal, with constant heavy rain, strikes of threatening lightning, and cracking thunder loud enough to shatter my ear drums.

  A flash of lightning illuminates the clouded sky, and I catch the outline of a man not far below. It seems the time has come at last, for we have not come across anyone since the forest.

  My spine stiffens and I gaze at the shadowed figure. It is another man, and he is even larger than the boys from before. He must be well over six five, and is thicker than even some of the boulders, his body honed to perfection.

  I nod to Kieran, who has followed my eye, and we again take off up the mountain. By now, the only light leading our climb is the misty moonlight and occasional lightning strike, but I would rather try than die to this new man, who could pummel me to dust with a single hand.

  We carry on for well over an hour, my limbs now burning with a new type of pain. I have never been this tired in my life, my entire body now achy and sore. I almost collapse when we reach a flat ledge, unable to continue without taking a breath.

  But when I look down the slope, expecting to be satisfied, I instead only find myself unbelieving. Despite the progress I had imagined, the man has closed the distance, hardly a foothold behind. It seems that he has as much endurance as muscles, and an abundance of energy that will never come to an end.

  He is so close I can almost see his face, and I find myself instinctively slipping into the shadows, pressing myself into a thin, curved crevice. Kieran has also disappeared, though I have no idea where.

  The man pulls himself up with incredible speed, as if he was born on this mountain, and knows every hold by blind memory. When he at last reaches our ledge, he takes a break, his large hands planted on a wide waist, head tipped up to the sky.

  He is also black haired, though his is shaved at the sides. And his arms are covered in jagged, brown tattoos, cultural representations for those in northern Leiyetta, where the most mountainous ranges in the continent lie. He wears thick, black boots and simple grey pants, his shirt the same linen and unbuttoned half way, revealing more sprawling tattoos, which entirely distract one from the silver pin, which is clumsily secured to his chest.

  And while I do not know this man, it seems that my precautions are unnecessary. He may be large, and holds himself with unbound confidence, but it is not arrogance smeared across his face, rather a slight frown, as if disappointed.

  Unable to look to Kieran for approval, I suck in a deep breath, and take my second leap of faith for the day.

  Stepping into the open, I begin to open my mouth, when-

  “HOLY MOTHER OF GODS!” The man yelps, jumping back and nearly toppling over the cliff side, only saved by Kieran, who lept out of his hidden alcove to grab the stranger’s arm, tearing him back to safety in the nick of time.

  The stranger pants more than when he had scaled the wall, startled clear down to his bones. He clutches his chest, the other on his thigh as he bends over at the waist, his hair shielding wide, hazel eyes.

  “Sorry,” I blush, stepping back into my crevice.

  “No,” he gasps, raising his head to meet mine, “Just scared a year off my life, that’s all.”

  He smiles at me toothily, so wide and filled with heart that I return one of my own, though admittedly much smaller, and with no teeth shown.

  “You’ve been avoiding me for some time, eh?” He smirks, raising an expressive eyebrow.

  I shrug, and Kieran stays silent, his arms crossed as he assesses the new man.

  “You lot are talkative, ain’t ya.” He snorts, unphased entirely, “Ah well, all in good time.”

  Now it is my turn to raise an eyebrow. It seems that this man has just appointed himself a part of our apparently growing group. But maybe that is a good thing. We need some muscle to avoid the barbaric brutes. And besides, it's not as if I do not find this man amusing. He has already begun to grow on me.

  I take a deep breath, and hold out a hand, “Mauven Fangera,” I nod to Kieran, “and Kieran Nightawk.”

  Kieran nods his greeting, but does not extend a hand.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The man smiles brightly, seemingly his typical state, “Ryker Blackhorn.” He grasps my hand, tugging me closer without realizing it.

  “First years too, then,” he says conversationally, reaching up to a groove in the mountain.

  “Yes,” I respond simply, unsure of how to converse after a full day of silence.

  “We’re nearing the top,” Ryker says confidently, hoisting himself up a steep edge, “The clouds pretend otherwise, but I can feel it.”

  “Feel what?” I ask, curious.

  Ryker turns around, his hand on a small hold, and smiles devilishly, “That we’re going to be the first.”

  I look to Kieran as Ryker turns back up the mountain, cocking my head in question. He shrugs with a small smile, and gestures for me to follow, so we again take on the climb.

  Be it that Ryker leads a perfect path, somehow knowing the easiest way up, or the thought of soon reaching the peak, the climb suddenly feels to flow far smoother, and before we know it, we are consumed by the dense cloudline.

  Just as I feel that my limbs will fall off, the coolness shutting down my senses, Ryker’s victorious laugh calls out, almost deafening in the immense echoing. I still can’t see anything, with the mountain smothered in thick clouds, which is why my breath leaves me, a silent scream lost in my throat, as Ryker’s firm hand grasps my arm, and tears me into the unknown.

  My feet stumble as he sets me to the ground, but he holds me steady until I again find my balance. Wide eyed and shocked, I can’t find the mind to meet his triumphant smile. But Ryker is unphased by this, simply smacking me proudly on the back.

  In the time it takes Kieran to meet us, I take in the jagged landscape. The final ledge has at last taken us out of the clouds, and every way I look, mountains sprawl for unending miles. Each peak is unique and fierce, with waterfalls and lush trees cascading down to unseen bases. Many cliff sides end in sharp, haunting drops, that would surely be deadly for all who come across. And although I know that there is a school buried beneath this very earth, the mountain appears wholly uninhabited. It seems that finding a doorway will be much harder than I had anticipated.

  “Any idea where this door is, then?” Ryker asks, scratching his stubbled chin.

  Kieran and I shake our heads silently, my black bob brushing across my collar bone.

  But even as I do so, there is movement out of the corner of my eye, and my head snaps to find it. I could have sworn I saw the shift of a cloak, in between two large boulders. Narrowing my eyes, I take a step forward, approaching the darkened crevice.

  The boys stay close on my heels, Kieran’s footsteps light and soundless, while Ryker has made a game of kicking stones.

  I peer into the hole, but find only darkness, and can’t help but frown. If only my gift was strong, for then I would be able to adjust my eyes, and make them suited for the night. I used to be able to, when I was a child. The night was the only time I could be on my own, the only time I was allowed sparse moments of silence. And I savored them, for in the day, I would be glued to Dax’s side, or otherwise at the end of fathers constant gripes.

  Exhaling with annoyance, I take a step back, and stumble directly into Kieran’s firm chest. He looks down at me apologetically, but quickly returns his gaze to the crevice.

  “It’s a passage,” he says after a moment, and even Ryker falls silent, no longer kicking stones. Kieran looks down at me over my shoulder, his eyes briefly flashing with anticipation, “I can enter first, if you’d like.”

  Thinking of his gift, of how he may be able to do more than hear the shadows' secrets, I step to the side to allow him in. It seems that I am right, and that something about his gift allows him to see through the night, and he disappears easily into the tunnel.

  Ryker gives an elaborate bow, and I actually laugh at the notion. Rolling my eyes, I follow after Kieran, and try to adjust to the complete lack of light. My eyes are useless, but my other senses are not, and I take a deep breath to center myself.

  There is a vein of water somewhere nearby, the light dripping echoing down the hall. The walls are narrow, but we will make it through. Even Ryker, though he will be squeezed tight. The ceiling is not as generous, both boys will have to duck their heads. And the scent is damp and stale, as if this passage is rarely traveled. But with the way our steps echo, and the decline in the ceiling and walls, it is clear that this pass leads us deep into the ground, where we will hopefully come out into the entrance hall.

  “How did you possibly see this?” Ryker asks, unbelieving.

  I would shrug, but I know he would not see it, so instead, I mutter, “I saw something move near the entrance.”

  We travel down the path for so long it feels as if we will never leave the unending darkness, the steps always continuing, the walls closed and rough. But then, after a very long hour, muffled voices reach my ears, so many that my heart starts whirring. We must be reaching a large gathering hall, or perhaps a group of Whites.

  I wince at the thought of approaching so many people. The spotlight is never where I am best found, and whenever a large group comes around, I am typically as far away as I can manage. Father called it weak, but luckily for me Dax was always there, eager to soak up the light I so despise. He would love this, the potential to meet new friends. But it is not him who is here, and it is up to me to face this crowd, even if all I want is to disappear.

  But I am not allowed that luxury, not when we reach the end of the tunnel. Kieran stops at the final ledge, and I only see him because of a new sliver of light, pouring in the same way as the enthusiastic chatter. There is a glimpse of hundreds of bodies, and I realize it must be the muck hall, based on the wafting scent of stew.

  Taking a deep breath, I nod at Kieran as he looks at me in request. He raises his shoulders, lengthening his spine, and I mimic him as he pushes the doorway open, revealing the bustling inside.