The fall lasted only a heartbeat, but Lancet's body had long sunken into the ocean of panic.
The mountain face rushed past him in a blur of gray stone and white wind, his shoulder scraping the rocky surface, and his breath caught somewhere between his ribs and his throat.
For one wild instant, all he could hear was the roar of the storm and the pounding of his own pulse. Lancet wasn't going to die, his awakened body could take the fall but he wouldn't cape severe injuries.
Unless he would use a Skill.
But that meant he would have to start over.
Lancet was just about to give up and accept that. But that was when he saw her.
Kestrel stood far above him on the peak, arms folded, calm as if she had never expected anything else.
She was not moving to catch him. She wasn't even leaned over. In fact, she could not give less of a damn even if she tried.
It was then that Lancet understood exactly what she was trying to teach him.
He understood the point of the mountain.
