Trying to clear my mind of every negative thought holding me back, I hurl myself over the edge, bracing myself for impact. As I plummet, I graze the edge of something sharp, but I continue to fall and then land, rolling over stinging bits of gravel strewn across the ground.

As I come to a stop, I inhale several ragged breaths before I scramble to my feet, examining the long slice up my arm. Sure enough, I caught on something, but the wound only scratched the surface. Nothing I can’t handle.

“Nadir!” I shout up through the mist. I can’t see him or anything beyond a few feet around me. The feeling is claustrophobic and disorienting.

“Lor,” he calls from somewhere above, a little bit to my right.

“Drop a stone,” I say. “And I’ll tell you if it’s safe.”

“Coming!” he calls. A second later, a small stone plunks through the mist. I stare at it, trusting nothing as I scan left to right, wishing I could see something.

“Okay, just drop down straight from there,” I say. “The way is open.”

I hope.

“Okay, on the count of five,” he shouts. The fog muffles his voice, making him sound further away than the fall would suggest. I hate it. I hate how alone I feel down here, blanketed by this suffocating mist.

On the count of one, he says in my head, thinking one step ahead.

“One!” he shouts, and then suddenly, a dark shape appears above me. He plummets and lands, rolling to the side just as a spike spears up from the earth exactly where he just fell.

Herric, that fucking bastard.

“You said five,” I say to cover our tracks, trying to keep the wobble out of my voice.

“I changed my mind,” he answers, and our gazes lock. The only way to survive this is to think three steps ahead. But how much longer can we rely on that? This is Herric’s playground, and we are less than the ants scrambling through the dirt.

We explore our space, determining we’re at the bottom of a canyon. Everything looks the same: high stone walls on both sides interspersed with those deadly spires of rock. Gauging the slope of the far wall, we surmise we walked further than we realized, and it’s actually the side of the mountain where that rose hovers at the peak. At least we traveled in the right direction. I examine the rock face. Smooth and almost featureless, it would be tough to climb even with equipment and impossible without it.

Hand in hand, we pick our way across the rocky surface. The mist slowly dissipates the longer we continue, but that offers no further clarity. The wall stretches on forever, curving ever so slightly, revealing an endless forest of stone spires. We keep circling, hoping something will present itself.