Malik’s fingers ached as he heaved himself over the final ledge to the summit. Standing atop the world, his heart raged in his chest, but his spirit soared.

For hours, his existence had consisted of nothing but the sharp stone beneath his fingers. Hardly daring to consider anything but the next series of holds and maneuvers to reach the next ledge, all stringing together a harrowing path up the face of the Spires. But now…

“God’s breath!” Riese murmured a short distance away. Standing upon a small boulder, she gazed out beyond the Spires.

Malik scrambled over to her, and stepped up.

All at once, the world spread out to eternity, stretching all the way to the horizon in all directions. Beyond the spine of mountains that formed the heart of the island. Beyond the glacial walls of ice, towering forests, sweeping green plains, and winding fjords. From here, the length and breadth of the entire Isle of Faltara reached all the way to the Dornin Sea, which shimmered at the horizon.

It was the same sea Malik had seen from the shore all his life. He’d known it was large, but from this height, he was reminded just how magnificent it was. His island was nothing but a spearhead of rock plunged into the ocean by the gods. Malik had never felt so small.

A gust of wind swept over him, rushing through shaggy strands of hair, sending shivers down his arms and spine. Malik took one long, focused inhalation, taking it all in. The grandeur of the gods.

Malik let loose a cry like the howl of a wolf.

Riese’s voice joined his own.

A chorus of pure exhilaration. The only experience that came close was the triumph of Malik’s first hunt. This was freedom—a world without end, without clans, without tragedies and unwanted shamanic roles—here, at the top of the world.

Well, not quite the top.

The zenith of the final spire was about one hundred yards across, an expanse of rocks splayed out in shards, as though an ancient beast had pounded the surface of the floating mountain with giant mallets. The spire narrowed to a razor’s edge ahead, as it made one last gradual ascent to the true peak. A flat stretch about ten yards across.

And there, the Gate of the Ancients rose.

A bony arch of stone wide enough for three men to walk with hands outstretched. A wisp of cloud brushed up against the interior of the archway, clouds stretching and vanishing into the center as though drawn into the heart of a whirlpool.

“Well, don’t just stand around gawking!”

Malik grinned at the familiar voice. Yuri Alwensein clambered over the top of the peak, chest heaving. He’d taken a different route. The boy was stronger than Malik and Riese combined, but he was also approaching their combined weight, and on an Ascent, even strength could become a weakness, if paired with mass. Though Yuri would have found far less trouble with a winged jackal. He’d survived an encounter with a sabercat in the icy north.

Malik and Riese both pulled Yuri into an embrace once he’d moved away from the edge of the spire.

“That’s supposed to be the… easy part?” Yuri asked, glancing back at the precipice and shaking his head.

“Mum said it’s all a matter of perspective,” said Riese. “Sections of the Ascent challenge us all in different ways. But hey, I’m glad you caught up with us for the next section.”

“Yeah… uh, me too,” Yuri said, his raspy words turning to a cough. He stooped over, hands on knees, and took in gaping breaths.

“You know, it’s actually better to stand straight,” Riese said. “Gets more…”

“Oh, go to the Abyss, Torendeil!” Yuri waved her off with a paw of a hand, grinning all the while.

The Ascent was a complicated endeavor. All the climbers set out at once, and might help one another at various stages—the three of them had stuck together on the first spire—but ultimately, each youth was responsible for their own Ascent, and took the path which suited their own strengths.

But all three of them had found one another for the next stage of their trial, as they had so many other times in their childhood. Before Malik’s fate had changed.

Malik took one last glance at the horizon. The sun had drifted behind a mass of clouds, but remained high in the sky. They were making good time.

When he turned back, a blue-cloaked girl from the clan of the Feathered Serpents was scrambling over the edge.

“We should hurry,” Riese said.

Yuri nodded, breaths still heavy.

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Riese clapped the large boy on the back with a grin. “You first on the Blade’s Edge?”

Yuri huffed and motioned for her to lead.

Riese Torendeil moved lithely on strong and sure limbs as she maneuvered between boulders on the uneven terrain toward the last challenge on this side of the Gate. Malik followed, and Yuri brought up the rear.

When Riese reached the razor-thin span of rock known as the Blade’s Edge, she paused. It was only about fifteen or twenty feet across, with a gradual rise, but the rock was too narrow to stand with both feet planted. Riese studied the Blade for all of three seconds, and stepped forward, holding her arms out for balance, gingerly twisting her lower body to accommodate each footstep, soft pulses of hish offered added stability.

It was over in seconds. Riese turned around and grinned.

“Oh, come on!” Yuri said.

“Show off,” Malik said.

“Just go quick. It’s actually not that bad. Like walking a string of stones across a creek or something.”

“Sure,” said Yuri, “at the edge of a damn waterfall.”

Malik was tempted to take in the height on both sides, but caught himself. It was no different than any other maneuver on this climb. One rock to the next.

He drew one long inhalation and slowly released it.

One step. And then another. That’s all any journey is, he recited in his mind.

For how much he’d resented his shaman training these past two years, his father’s words had provided surprising encouragement during this ordeal.

He focused on the next stretch of rock, and stepped out, planting the ball of his right foot. The Blade was so narrow, he could not place his entire boot on it. Malik didn’t pause. Once he was sure his foot was set, he shifted his hips slightly and brought his left foot forward.

No rock crumbled or shifted. The Blade was firm beneath his feet. Perhaps even more solid than all the previous steps on the peak. He took another step. Then another.

Riese was right. If not for the height, this was just walking across stones. Or the trunk of a felled tree. He’d crossed such terrain countless times.

Malik drew on hish, using traces of magic to steady his balance.

In the corner of his vision, he caught a glimpse of clouds, swelling around the edge of the peak.

“Almost there,” Riese said.

Malik’s focus narrowed to the next step. Two more. And Riese pulled him to the safety of the true peak.

His heart thundered in his chest as he dared a look down, and found himself laughing at the absurdity. It was a four thousand foot drop on either side to the lush valley below.

“Well, shit, Jorensein! Look at that, you didn’t die!”

Malik turned to find Aram Tulsein emerging from the Gate of the Ancients, hands on the straps of his rucksack, a cocky grin stretching wide.

Riese and Malik both scowled, until they noticed the lump in Aram’s pack. Aram had found his prize on the other side of the Gate.

Malik glanced back at Yuri, who was nervously examining the path across the Blade.

“This is bloody stupid,” Yuri muttered as he dropped to the ground and began the slower, but safer route, straddling the Blade with both legs, and shimmying across.

“Oh gods!” Aram groaned. “Let me cross first, if you’re going like that.”

Yuri huffed. “Go to the Abyss, Tulsein!”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m the one who should worry about that.” Aram chuckled at his own joke.

“We were here first,” Malik said. “And besides, you got plenty of time.”

“That’s right.” Aram beamed proudly, pulling his rucksack a little tighter against his shoulders. “First Ascent. First prize. And I’ll be the first to the bottom too.”

“We’ll see about that!”

Blue-cloaked Ulgar Fenrisein emerged from the Gate, as though stepping from the other side of a waterfall. One moment, there was only the expanse of sky behind the stone archway. The next, Ulgar was walking toward them, his own pack weighed down by the precious cargo within.

Aram’s eyes flashed. Without another word, he sprinted toward the Blade and leapt. Though invisible to the naked eye, Malik sensed the rush of hish as the boy powered his superhuman leap over his friend’s head.

Yuri howled. “Watch it!” Halfway across the Blade, he hugged the mountain fiercely.

Malik and Riese both drew sharp breaths.

But Aram landed safely on the other side of the Blade, turned and waved. “Have fun sitting around, Ulgar!” And with that, Aram took off, leaping between boulders as he crossed the peak.

Ulgar was tall and built, not quite stocky, but all muscle. A fisherman’s son.

He paused at the edge of the Blade, clapping his knee irritably. “Hurry up, Yuri! Come on! Come on!”

Yuri pulled himself forward. “Don’t even think about jumping over me.”

Ulgar groaned. “I wanna win. I don’t have a death wish.”

“Come on, Yuri, ” Riese said. “You’re almost there.”

Yuri did not take his eyes off the Blade in front of him, pulling in deep breaths between each maneuver. When he got close enough, Malik and Riese both reached for his hands and pulled him to the safe expanse of the true peak.

“Good work,” Malik said.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Without a word in parting, Ulgar set off the other way across the Blade.

“Come on,” Riese said. “Let’s get moving.”

The three of them crossed the strangely flat peak and stopped just outside the archway. Only from this distance could Malik detect what lay within the span of the Gate. A thin membrane, almost like water stretched the entire space. Malik could still see through to the cloudy skies on the other side, though the view was distorted. Darker.

Riese reached out and brushed her hand through the expanse. They all gasped as her fingers vanished from the second knuckle, and then reappeared when she withdrew her hand.

She examined her fingers closely, grinning. All in tact. “Incredible!”

“What do you think it is?” Yuri murmured.

Malik knew. With his shaman training, he could sense it. “Some sort of concentration of hish. My father says the Ancients had a way of harnessing it into something physical.”

“Well, you’re the future shaman,” Yuri said with a shake of his head.

Malik nodded, though as always, something about the statement sent a sinking feeling deep through his gut.

Riese glanced back. A queue had formed at the Blade now as three more climbers began their crossing.

“Okay, enough analysis, boys. Let’s go get our eggs.”

Riese stepped into the archway. There was a brief moment when her entire body seemed to linger, like a rippled reflection in water, and then, she was gone.

Malik didn’t wait another second. He stepped into the Gate of the Ancients.

***

Joren drew a long breath as his son’s spiritual resonance vanished from his sense.

It had been nearly three decades since Joren’s own Ascent. He had never returned, as was custom, even for a shaman.

The Ascent was a once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage.

Joren released his breath, whispering one last prayer.

No cloths were released this time. This was a prayer only for himself.

For his last living son. As Malik entered the realm that had stolen the life of his brother.