As one might expect, sleep was beyond Iliana's grasp.

When Lykos ordered them all out at the break of dawn, she reluctantly dragged herself from the bed. Releasing a string of swears in her mind, she changed into the heavy traveling dress and cloak Eumelia handed her. Her hesitation came in when the witch offered her familiar leather straps.

"It goes beneath your skirt," Eumelia explained. "Just wrap the buckles around your thigh and--"

"I know how it works," Iliana interrupted. "Why are you giving me a knife strap?"

"The mountains are dangerous," Lykos answered as he shoved open the door. Iliana shot him a glare. He had, once again, ignored the common courtesy of knocking. "You'll need a weapon."

"You aren't worried I'll use it on you?" she demanded.

Lykos studied her for a moment, his shoulder resting lazily against the frame. "If you hurt me, lass, I'd be happy."

Her lips curled into a scowl, fingers tightening around the strap. "What? Why?"

"It'd prove I'm a good teacher if someone who couldn't nail me with a blade from this close--" he mimed holding a blade a few inches from his face, "--manages to land an expected blow after a few weeks of training."

"It was dark and I didn't expect you to attack!" Iliana argued. "And I did hurt you. I stabbed your thigh."

"Yes, yes, whatever makes you feel better," Lykos quipped.

"It's the truth!"

He raised his hand from his side. Until that moment, Iliana hadn't realized he held Inna's ceremonial blade. "Put on the sheath so we can leave."

He flipped the blade in his hand, offering her the hilt. That ever-present, anger that burned beneath her skin reared its head, and Iliana snatched the weapon with more force than necessary. Lykos swore, then laughed as he held his hand close, examining the blood welling across his palm.

"A great start to the day."

He was a masochist. There wasn't a doubt in her mind.

Thankfully, Eumelia backed her up when she insisted she couldn't place the strap with him in the room. A handful of minutes later, they gathered in the living room. Iliana could only stare at the sight of Callias standing in front of the sitting table, pointer finger curled over his chin as he considered the blade, bow, quiver and dagger laid across its surface. After a moment, he grasped the hilt of the blade and unsheathed it.

"Him, too?" Iliana asked Lykos.

The mercenary shrugged, and it took everything she had to drop the issue there. If Lykos wanted to give them the weapons they needed for a clean escape, who was she to argue? Perhaps this was just the fruit of her attempts to seem harmless. She'd honestly expected Lykos to be the last person to fall for her "charms," but she was aware she should do her best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, when he offered her the bow Callias had passed over, she silently strapped it and the quiver over her shoulder and followed them from the inn.

The chill of dawn nipped at her skin and throat as she drew in a soft breath. Thankfully, the mottled-green traveling cloak did the trick, and that bit of a bite was all she felt. The rest of the crew waited for them outside, Abiel and Semele included. She'd half-expected the harpy to have departed in the night, and to have taken the boy with her. If the mountains were as dangerous as everyone kept saying, why were they bringing a child? Lykos had argued against bringing Natia, but was perfectly willing to bring the five year-old he seemed to view as a son?

Seeming to notice Iliana's surprise, Semele laughed. "I'll depart at the base. I'm not the sort of escort who leaves a job half finished."

And, that was that.

Iliana dragged the fabric of her hood tighter as they walked through town. There was something comforting in clenching the fabric close to her chin. The feeling of eyes watching each step she took felt somewhat abated by hiding within the cloak. It wasn't a baseless sensation, she knew; after all, the gods had confessed to observing her. Still, each prick of paranoia rubbed her wrong, that little voice in her head asking how she could get off being so egotistical as to think she would notice their eyes, or that they would be interested in such an insignificant moment as this.

The closer they drew to the beginning of the pass, the colder the air grew. By the time they neared the base of the towering walls, Iliana was fully prepared to believe the Gods' power actively influenced these mountains as most thought. There was something unnatural about the frozen rock and frost-dusted path.

"This is where I leave."

Semele's words broke the silence surrounding Iliana and Callias. They'd paused to observe the path while Lykos and Eumelia spoke quietly in one of the carts. Nuri sat at the front of their cart, reigns in his hands; Ian settled in a similar position on the second. Heron was with Nuri, coaxing Natia into sitting close to him and Abiel. His reason became clear after the wolf finally calmed and he began tucking thick traveling blankets around them. Only Abarron and Sophos stood close to Iliana, and even then they were a few feet back, having been trailing behind. Iliana held little doubt they were there to discourage her and Callias from running the moment Semele was out of sight.

Iliana wasn't certain why the harpy had singled them out for her goodbyes. Hopefully she didn't expect well-wishes, because she wouldn't be getting any.

"Good."

Semele laughed, slapping a hand down on Iliana's shoulder. She flinched, and jerked back. The harpy didn't seem to notice.

"Don't lose that. If you're ever in Wolfhaven, seek me out. I'll have a free bed and drink for ya."

Then, without waiting for a reply, Semele spread her wings. Normally, the very tips of her feathers nearly touched the ground, so Iliana wasn't all that surprised to see them stretch six, seven feet--at the very least--past Semele's shoulders. It was still an amazing sight, however, and she found herself staring despite all intention. Semele smirked, then launched herself into the air.

"Gods," Iliana murmured under her breath.

Callias, too, watched the harpy as she flew towards Erast, then beyond. As the carts started to roll, and Lykos called for them to start walking, Iliana couldn't help but raise her fingers to the downy feathers growing at the base of her neck.

In that moment, she wished she'd become a harpy instead of a siren. Imagine the freedom that came with flight. Her heart ached at the very thought.

She prayed to Taisol that their plan would work, with or without wings, as towering stone surrounded their path on all sides.

¸.•*¨*•.¸♪¸.•*¨*•.¸♥¸.•*¨*•.¸

Kain barely reached the fountain before Melitta called his name, then seized his hand and started down one of the many, stone paths. Rhode strode ahead, tension in her shoulders, while Dalphie was nowhere to be seen.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"They're moving," Melitta explained. "It happened five minutes ago, they left wherever they were staying and started towards the mountains. Dalphie went ahead to make sure nothing got in our way this time, while we hung back to meet you."

That was all Kain needed to hear. The three of them ran for the gate, only pausing to reassure the startled guards, before heading for the short path to the mountains. Kain shuddered as a large shadow passed over them, but a glance above revealed it to be a winged person--a nightmare, or harpy perhaps?--rather than a dragon.

He prayed to whatever god would listen that Apophis would stay far away from them as they reached the base of the pass. Knots twisted his stomach as his prayer seemed to be met by the stretch of a second, the sourceless clink of charms echoing in the air.

Then, Melitta grabbed his arm and that second died. The moment felt hauntingly familiar as she murmured a name beneath her breath, and Kain realized he could see a group traveling the path only a few dozen feet ahead of them. Most were strangers, but Callias's pale blond hair stuck out like a sore thumb.

The woman next to him was unfamiliar, but his heart clenched at the similarities to the person they'd been chasing. Rich, chestnut locks fell from the hood of her cloak with wild abandon. Her figure had curves, shapes where he expected nothing. The dark olive hand that reached up to tug her hood around her face was unscarred.

Nothing he saw matched, but he knew.

"Iliana!"

His call was punctuated by a roar loud enough to crack the ice towering above them. Chunks shuddered, then tumbled from the rock as Kain's hope sunk in his chest.

He truly was cursed by the gods.

A/N: So, this chapter is a lot shorter than planned. But, it had to be. Otherwise, I was never going to get it finished. I got stuck for a bit on how to approach this scene, and eventually decided I needed to split the point-of-views. And then, suddenly, it flowed... very shortly, though, because Kain's narrative is like that. 

It'll probably be longer in the next draft, with more details on what they're thinking. But, for now, I'm somewhat satisfied. 

Besides, I bet you guys are excited to see what comes next, huh?

;)