Rhea's voice shook despite her will. "You said forward leads to truth."
The woman's mouth curved, not a smile.
"And truth kills the unready."
She lifted a crooked finger and pointed back down the path they'd come from.
"Go back," she said.
"Down. Now. If you want to live."
Thunder rolled far away, not above them.
Behind them.
Rhea's breath came shallow. "What's up here?"
The woman's gaze slid to Ling, lingered longer.
"Old ground," she murmured. "Proud ground. It punishes those who think they cannot fall."
Ling didn't flinch. "Is there shelter below?"
The woman's eyes hardened.
Wind surged again.
Leaves lashed violently.
And just like before, the woman stepped back, and vanished into the trees as if she had never existed at all.
Silence returned.
Rhea exhaled shakily. "That's not normal."
Ling stared down the path they'd been climbing, then back toward the descent.
His jaw tightened.
"No," Ling agreed. "It's not."
Ling looked at Rhea. "We shouldn't listen."
Rhea held his gaze for a long second.
Then she nodded once.
Ling held Rhea's hand in his, grip firm, grounding, undeniable.
They started together, rain picking up again, the forest alive with sound once more.
They climbed.
Higher.
Steeper.
The forest thinned, trees shrinking into twisted silhouettes. The ground straightened but turned uneven, slabs of rock, loose gravel, sudden drops hidden under moss. Every step demanded attention.
Wind cut sharper here.
Rhea wrapped her arms around herself, teeth chattering despite her effort to hide it. "Great decision," she muttered. "Absolutely flawless leadership."
Ling didn't reply.
His focus was locked on footing, angles, distance, but the cold was creeping in even through his jacket. The sky darkened again, clouds folding over each other like bruises.
Then...
Rain.
Not light.
Not playful.
Cold, slanting sheets that soaked instantly.
Temperature dropped fast.
Ten degrees.
Maybe lower with the wind.
Rhea's lips started to pale.
"This isn't funny anymore," she said, voice shaking now. "Ling..."
"I know," Ling cut in, sharper than intended. He stopped suddenly, scanning the terrain. No trees thick enough. No caves visible. Just exposed rock and rising wind.
Thunder cracked overhead.
Too close.
Rain plastered Rhea's clothes to her skin, metal of her jewelry cold and biting. She hugged herself tighter, shoulders trembling.
Ling turned fully to her now.
For the first time since they ignored the warning, Ling's confidence fractured, just slightly.
"You're shaking," Ling said.
Rhea scoffed weakly. "Congratulations. You discovered weather."
Ling stepped closer, blocking some of the wind without thinking. "This altitude isn't safe in rain."
"And whose idea was it to climb?" Rhea snapped back, but her voice broke at the end.
Ling swallowed.
Silence stretched, filled with rain and wind and regret neither would name.
Another gust slammed into them, forcing Rhea back a step. Ling caught her wrist instantly.
"Don't let go," Ling said, grip firm now.
Rhea looked at their joined hands, rain dripping from their fingers, then up at Ling's face. Anger was still there. Pride too.
But fear was louder.
"I'm cold," Rhea admitted quietly.
Ling didn't hesitate.
He pulled Rhea closer, chest to chest, wrapping his jacket partially around both of them, sacrificing warmth without comment.
Rhea stiffened, then slowly leaned in, forehead brushing Ling's collarbone.
"I told you not to choose alone," Rhea whispered, remembering the woman's words.
Ling closed his eyes for half a second.
"I know," he said. "That's on me."
Thunder rolled again.
The path ahead vanished into mist.
Behind them, just as dangerous.
Ling exhaled slowly, grounding himself.
"We need shelter," he said. "Now. Even temporary."
Rhea nodded against him, voice barely audible. "Just don't leave me."
Ling's arm tightened around her.
"I won't," he said, not as a promise to impress, but as a fact.
His jacket came off in one sharp motion, soaked and heavy, and he wrapped it around Rhea instead, tugging it tight, pulling the collar up around her neck.
"You're priority," Ling said, voice clipped, final.
Rhea didn't argue. She didn't have the strength.
The rain intensified, the kind that feels solid, like it can bruise. Mud loosened under their feet, stones rolling free.
Then...
A deep, sickening crack.
Not thunder.
The ground.
Rhea felt it first, the earth shifting beneath her sole. "Ling..."
Too late.
The slope to their left gave way, mud and rocks tearing loose, sliding downward with violent force. Trees groaned. Stones slammed into each other, the sound brutal and alive.
"Run!" Ling shouted.
He grabbed Rhea around the waist and half-dragged, half-carried her forward, boots slipping, calves burning. The wind screamed in their ears. Rain blinded them.
Rhea stumbled.
Her legs buckled completely this time.
"I can't..." she gasped. "I can't..."
Ling swore under his breath.
In one decisive motion, he bent and hauled Rhea up, not bridal, not gentle, but solid, desperate, Rhea's arm thrown over his shoulder, Ling's grip iron around her thighs.
"Hold on," Ling ordered. "Do not let go."
Rhea clutched him instinctively, fingers digging into Ling's shirt, face pressed against his neck. She smelled rain, metal, Ling's skin, grounding, terrifyingly real.
Another surge of mud rushed past where they'd been standing seconds ago.
Ling ran.
Each step was pain. Ankles twisting, lungs burning, muscles screaming protest, but he didn't slow. Couldn't.
A rock clipped his calf.
He staggered but didn't fall.
Rhea felt it, the jolt, and tightened her grip. "Ling... stop..."
"No," Ling snapped. "Not now."
His voice cracked on the edge of fury and fear.
The slope curved suddenly, revealing a jagged outcrop, rock jutting outward, creating a shallow hollow beneath it. Not shelter. But something.
Ling dove for it.
They hit the ground hard, sliding into the narrow space just as another wave of earth thundered past, missing them by a breath.
Mud sprayed over Ling's back.
Silence followed, thick, ringing, broken only by rain and Rhea's shaking breaths.
Ling stayed over her, shielding instinctively, body curved around Rhea like a barrier.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Rhea whispered, voice raw, almost lost in the rain...
"You could've left me."
Ling laughed once, short, breathless, bitter.
"Don't insult me," he said.
Rhea's fingers trembled where they still clutched Ling's shirt. "You don't even like me."
Ling closed his eyes.
"I don't have to like you," he replied quietly. "To not let you die."
The rain kept falling.
Cold seeped deeper.
Ling shifted slightly, checking Rhea's face with sharp, worried eyes. Pale. Shivering hard. Steady even now despite the storm.
He pulled her closer into the small shelter, back pressed to rock, arms locking Rhea against his chest to preserve warmth.
Rhea didn't resist.
She rested her forehead against Ling's collarbone again, breath uneven.
The ground didn't stop.
The rock above them groaned, a deep, shifting sound that vibrated through Ling's spine.
His eyes snapped up.
"No..."
He moved instantly, twisting his body, dragging Rhea with him as the outcrop gave way. Stone cracked loose, slabs sliding like broken teeth.
They barely cleared it.
Mud surged again.
Ling lost footing for half a second, just enough.
A sharp, heavy impact cut through the chaos.
A stone.
Fast.
Unforgiving.
Ling turned his head at the last moment, pulling Rhea hard against his neck, tucking her in, shielding her without thought...
CRACK!