The Hawk stomped past Anji toward the structure, hitching the bag higher on her shoulder. Anji just stood there, her jaw clenched so tight she thought her teeth might break. She was being forced through the mountains on foot, with an empty stomach, a pounding headache, and the worst company she’d ever kept. So what if she complained a little? She put her hands on her hips and gathered more breath, peering across the chasm. The wind roared between the peaks, but Anji thought she heard something else—a distant rumbling from far below. The tether tugged at her ankle. Anji wiped her nose and started forward.

As she walked, the mountainside to her left came into clearer view. Its face ran in stony rivulets, deep basins of snowpack where narrow valleys formed. She craned her neck, following the veins of rock to the summit, and her eyes widened.

A hulking tower of tiered black stone had been constructed in the saddle between the peaks. Its western edge soaked in the day’s fading glow, an icy sheen glittering off the molded brick. It stood against the pale white slope like a giant charcoal stick left standing in the snow, its arched windows dark and silent. Black steps wound by the score in a switchback lane from the tower’s base to the smaller structure overhanging their path. As she came closer, Anji saw it was made of the same black stone as the tower, albeit much shorter in stature—the skeleton of a not-quite-finished structure. No roof that she could see, only black brick walls and empty spaces for windows.

Anji huffed through the Hawk’s tracks, eager for the small shelter the ruin would provide. She tried to resist licking her lips, which only dried further as soon as she slid her tongue over the flaking skin.

She’d nearly come level with the Hawk when the woman stumbled to one knee.

Anji’s heart leapt as the Hawk doubled over, shoulders shaking with deep, hacking coughs. The Hawk reached a hand out, grasping for some unseen support, then sank to her other knee. Anji stumbled through the snow to her side.

“Hawk!” she said, her voice hoarse. “Hawk! How do you open the bag? You’re not going to—”

“Stop—”

Anji tightened her grip. “How do you open the bag? Tell me the disarming charm!”

Though the Hawk’s mask was still on, Anji could just make out the labored, scratchy breathing behind it. Was she going to die right here? Anji relished the thought, but she had to find out how to get into that damned satchel. She shouted in her face again, but the woman only flailed a thin arm. Dodging the weak blow with a curse, she ripped off the Hawk’s mask, then nearly tumbled back into the snow.