The mountain did not forgive weakness.
Ashen felt it in every step as they climbed higher, the ravine giving way to broken stone paths dusted with fresh snow. The cold had sharpened overnight, wind biting through layers, breath frosting instantly. Above them, the sky was a pale, merciless blue.
Behind them, something hunted.
Ashen knew the difference between pursuit and inevitability. This was the latter.
They moved fast, but not carelessly. Lira rode on Ashen's back now, bundled in furs Elyra had scavenged from an abandoned trapper's cache. She was quiet but her arms were strong around his neck, her breath steady against his shoulder.
Elyra ranged ahead, scouting. She moved like smoke, appearing and disappearing between rock and tree. Every so often, she would signal two fingers raised, a clenched fist, a flat palm.
Clear.
Danger.
Wait.
Ashen trusted her instincts.
He didn't trust time.
They reached a narrow pass just as the wind rose to a howl. The mountain funneled sound here. Every footstep echoed, every stone dislodged clattered for seconds too long.
Elyra froze.
Ashen stopped instantly.
She crouched, pressing her palm to the ground. Her head tilted slightly, listening.
"We're not alone," she said softly.
Ashen shifted Lira down behind a jagged rock outcrop. "Stay," he murmured.
Lira nodded, eyes wide but determined.
Elyra drew two slender blades from her sleeves. "Not Ironhand," she said. "This is… quieter."
Ashen felt his jaw tighten.
"The House," he said.
Elyra didn't deny it.
A sound drifted through the pass.
A whistle.
Low. Controlled. Not meant to be heard by prey but by other hunters.
Then another, answering it from the opposite ridge.
Ashen swore under his breath.
"They marked you," he said to Elyra.
"They never unmark," she replied.
Shadows moved along the stone walls, figures cloaked in gray, faces hidden behind masks of bone and cloth. Five of them. No—six. They spread with practiced ease, cutting off retreat without a word spoken.
Ashen recognized the formation instantly.
Encirclement. No escape route left open. They wanted him contained.
A woman stepped forward, mask carved into the shape of a weeping face.
"Elyra," she said pleasantly. "You've been difficult to catch."
Elyra's grip tightened on her blades. "Mirelle."
Ashen felt the tension spike. "You know her."
"Unfortunately," Elyra said. "She taught me how to slit a throat before I learned how to read."
Mirelle's head tilted. "And you were such a gifted student. We were heartbroken when you fled."
"You tried to kill me," Elyra replied.
"Yes," Mirelle said lightly. "But only because you refused to finish your work."
Ashen stepped forward, knives drawn. "You want her, you go through me."
Mirelle's gaze slid to him. "Ashen Vale. The Silent Knife. We wondered when you'd resurface."
Her eyes flicked past him to Lira.
"And you brought us something very valuable."
Elyra moved instantly.
Her blades flashed, catching one of the masked hunters in the throat before anyone reacted. Blood sprayed across the snow in a violent arc. The body dropped withnansoft thud.
Then the mountain erupted into motion.
Ashen surged forward, intercepting a hunter who lunged for Lira. Steel rang. Ashen's blade bit deep into a shoulder; he twisted, kicked, and sent the assassin tumbling over the pass edge in a scream that cut short on stone below.
Two more came at once.
Elyra danced between them, lethal and fluid. She moved the way Ashen remembered; no wasted motion, no flourish. Kill. Shift. Kill again.
But the House had numbers.
And patience.
A bolt hissed through the air.
Ashen spun—
Too late.
The crossbow bolt struck Elyra in the side, just beneath the ribs. She staggered, breath punching out of her.
"Elyra!" Ashen shouted.
She ripped the bolt free with a hiss of pain. "I..I'm fine... "
Another bolt flew.
Ashen moved without thinking. He threw himself into its path.
The impact slammed into his shoulder, spinning him hard into the snow. Pain flared hot and sharp. He gritted his teeth and tore the bolt free, blood staining the white ground.
Mirelle watched calmly. "You always were reckless, Ashen."
Ashen rose unsteadily. "And you always hid behind masks."
Mirelle smiled beneath hers. "Because faces make things… personal."
A roar thundered through the pass.
Deep.
Feral.
Close.
The House hunters stiffened.
Elyra's eyes widened. "Ironhand."
The mountain shook as Ironhand burst into view from below, hauling himself up the sheer rock face like gravity was a suggestion. His gauntlet was damaged, cracked but his strength was undiminished.
Blood streaked his arm. His eyes burned.
"ENOUGH," he roared.
The House turned as one. Mirelle's calm cracked for the first time.
Ironhand launched himself forward, slamming into two assassins at once. Bones snapped like kindling. One was hurled against the cliff wall hard enough to leave a dark smear.
The House scattered.
They were killers but not fools.
Mirelle backed away slowly. "This isn't over," she said to Elyra. "The House never stops hunting."
Elyra snarled. "Neither do I."
Ironhand turned toward Ashen and Lira, chest heaving. For a heartbeat, Ashen thought he might attack.
Instead, Ironhand looked at Lira.
Then he turned away.
More roars echoed in the distance.
Ironhand spoke without looking back. "Others are coming. Not mine."
He glanced once over his shoulder. "The Book is awake."
Then he leapt back down the mountain, vanishing into snow and stone.
Silence fell, broken only by the wind.
Ashen turned to Elyra.
She was on one knee, blood soaking her side.
He was at her side in an instant. "You said you were fine."
She smiled faintly. "Lied."
Her strength failed. She collapsed forward.
Ashen caught her, lowering her carefully to the ground. Lira rushed to them, hands shaking.
"Is she going to die?" Lira whispered.
Elyra met Ashen's eyes. "Not today," she said weakly. "But I can't keep running like this."
Ashen looked at the blood, at the mountain, at the paths closing around them.
Then he made a choice.
"We stop running," he said.
Elyra's breath hitched. "Ashen... "
"We end this," he finished. "The House. The Book. Ironhand. All of it."
Lira looked up at him. "Together?"
Ashen nodded. "Together."
Above them, the wind carried the distant echo of masks shifting and something older, deeper, stirring awake.