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I rub my thumb against the Blaze rock necklace, listening to the shuffling and coughs and sniffles of the refugees beyond the thin walls of my tent. The gentle glow of a fire outside presses against the hide, illuminating the interior of the tent and my packed bag.

Rosabel told me to wait until she came for me, and all I can do in the meantime is attempt to get some sleep, but sleep seems as elusive as the answers I chase after.

I sit up, resting my elbows on my knees, and stare at my pack.

Ari's drawing of Rosabel is still tucked safely within, that drawing and his necklace the only pieces of him I have left. And all of these people who don't know their prince is dead, that I'm to blame for his death.

With a huff of breath, I shove my feet into my boots, shrug on a coat, swipe up my pack, and exit the tent. The cold scorches a path to my lungs and is quick to numb my lips. I stomp through the clumps of snow, the flickering light of fires lighting my way through the moonless night. Figures are huddled around those licking flames, fingers curling towards their warmth, trying to absorb any strength they can. Eyes flick to me, track my determined steps, but no one moves to stop me.

Lifting my chin, my black eyes drift to those jutting mountains that blot out what stars break through the clouds. I leave the camp and the fires behind, trudging up an incline and towards those jagged peaks.

I made a promise to myself before I left Wymler; to not toss any other innocent people into my fights. I won't let Rosabel end up like Ari or Suri. Her people need her more than I do.

"Are you trying to leave without me?"

I stop at the voice, fingers tightening around the strap of my pack. The crunch of Rosabel's boots on the snow advance behind me and I know she's not going to let me leave without an explanation. "I couldn't wait until morning."

"I was just coming to get you."

I turn to her, my gaze raking over the pack on her shoulders and the tight braid in her fiery hair. I let out a breath that clouds the air and don't meet her violet gaze. "I told you I didn't want you to come with me."

She inclines her head. "And I told you I didn't care. You don't have much hope of getting through that passage without a guide or the appropriate gear." She pats her side where rope is looped in her belt. "Unless you have wings I don't know about."

I close my eyes for a moment, wondering how I can get this woman to change her mind. If she's anything as stubborn as Ari, then I have my work cut out for me. "Why are you insisting on helping me?"

She shrugs and begins walking towards the mountains and I have no choice but to follow her. "Call it gut instinct. I've learned to trust it. As have you."

I raise my brow at her as she glances at me.

"You helped me in the woods even though I was a stranger surrounded by bodies."

"You'd saved my life. But you know nothing about me."

"I know enough."

I shake my head and reach out to clasp her upper arm and stop her stride. She jerks towards me with a frown. "You're putting your life in danger for someone you shouldn't trust."

"Why shouldn't I trust you?"

My lips part and I don't know quite how to answer her. Because I'm the one that got her prince killed? Because I could lead the woman who annihilated her people right back to them? Because I don't know what I am and can't even trust myself?

All of those reasons are true, but none of them want to spill from my lips.

"My goals aren't worth risking your life," I tell her instead. "Your people need you."

"They do, and we need the witches to help us. I'm going to them anyway, so it may as well be with you." She spins around and begins walking again. I let out a sigh and rub at the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache beginning to throb behind my eyes.

Maybe she's even more stubborn than Ari.

I jog to catch up to her, my lips pressed together, but I don't know what else to say to convince her without revealing too much. How much can she know about this war and about me before I'm putting her in danger? It's not something I want to find out.

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The rock crumbles beneath my boot as I climb, all of my weight going to the tips of my fingers. I gasp, losing my footing.

"Trust the rope, Azura," Rosabel says above me, climbing up the steep rock face like she's done it dozens of times. And perhaps she has. It seems she knows more about the witches than any of us.

I let out a breath and adjust my footing again. The rope around my waist is a comforting tightness and Rosabel has reassured me that she's mapped the route up the rock to be as safe as possible.

Considering my climb up the Empire's spires without any sort of rope, this is almost relaxing.

We continue climbing, the only communication between us being our laboured breaths. The sun warms the back of my neck as it rises, kissing the white snow on the ledges and making it almost blinding to look at.

Rosabel disappears over the edge and I follow, fingers aching and thighs burning. I reach the top, my arms shaking as I struggle to pull myself up. Hands grip mine and I'm hauled over the edge, a grunt leaving me as I roll onto my back and stare up at Rosabel. She flashes me her teeth as she gazes back out towards the snow.

"It's always a stunning view."

I sit up to see what she sees, white puffs of air swirling before my face. The land is an ocean of white, broken only by jutting mountains and crawling mist. The blue of the sky barely manages to peek through the blankets of clouds.

"Let's keep going," Rosabel says, unclasping her rope from the ledge. I follow her movements, flexing my aching fingers as I do so before following her along the ledge of the mountain. A crude wooden path has been erected, most of it lost to the winds of the mountain. I toe the edge of the rock, the sheer drop clenching around my throat.

We walk, traversing along the steep mountain, rocks crumbling and tumbling beneath us, the wind tugging at our clothing. I run my hand along the rock beside me, hoping that if I slip, there'll be something to grab hold of.

I make the mistake of looking down. It's a sheer drop of endless rock and snow, so far down that I can't see the rock that'd surely crush me if I fell. Nothing but whipping air and snowflakes.

Fingers curling around my wrist draws my gaze away from the endlessness before me and Rosabel meets my eye.

"If it makes you feel any better," she says, her violet eyes bright, "it'll be a quick death."

I tilt my head back and laugh, the noise filling the endlessness.

"Come on, it's not much further." She continues on, keeping her hand wrapped around my wrist and I let her because my heart rages a little less with someone holding onto me.

We follow the path further up until it widens. The snow thickens, the mountain flattens out, and I'm staring at the long trail ahead of me of pure white.

"I hope you like walking," Rosabel says, tugging her hood over her auburn locks, her cheeks pink with the cold.

"There's nothing like a brisk walk through freezing temperatures," I grumble, adjust my pack, and continue onward, boots sinking into snow up to my calves. "If this is the journey you have to go through to reach the witches, than what help are they going to be to your people?"

"The witches have power," Rosabel replies, only a step in front of me to carve a trail through the snow. "More power than I believe anyone knows. You'll understand when you see their refuge."

"I once stayed in a place that was built by witches," I tell her, my teeth chattering with the cold. "It wasn't like any place I had been to before. It was like they were able to throw a blanket over it, hide what it truly was within."

"It's the same here. The witches utilise more than just sygils in their magic. Apparently, in their world, they were rulers, revered as gods."

"Do you know what happened?"

Rosabel glances over her shoulder at me as she shrugs. "There are a number of stories, most are complete fiction. But there was one story I was told that I always believed."

I quirk a brow but she sighs.

"You're going to think I'm stupid."

I laugh and shake my head. "No, I don't think so. After some of the things I've seen and heard, most stories seem very plausible."

A corner of her lip lifts and her eyes sparkle. "Well, apparently the witches aided Lucifer in the Great Rebellion, and as retaliation, the other gods polluted their world. By the time they were able to escape their world, there wasn't much left of them." Rosabel turns away from me as I mull over the story.

The witches are as unknown as they are reclusive, but that story makes sense considering how they hide themselves now.

I swallow, wondering if Rashida's people had survived how they could have possibly forged an alliance with the witches. If these people were once destroyed by the gods, then how are we ever going to convince the witches to unite against them?