“That’s not how that works,” Solveiga said, unabashedly eavesdropping. “You only choose one or the other.”

I glared at her. “Then why not change the magic to ensure it will no longer be misused?”

“That’s more complicated than you make it sound,” Kalen pointed out.

“Look, I don’t know if I’m capable yet, right? I’ll make no promises. We need options; we don’t have very many left.”

Kalen growled. “If you run into any trouble in there, don’t hesitate to shout. Summon some dead corpses. Call on the azi. Cause enough ruckus for me to hear.”

“I will not call the azi this close to Stranger’s Peak unless you want a firsthand view of an avalanche.” I kissed him again and turned to face the entrance. The snow had lightened, and I could make out some small torches burning inside. At least I wouldn’t be in total darkness. “I’m ready, Lord Agnarr.”

The Gorvekai stepped aside, forming a short line on either side of me as I walked toward the entrance, their features solemn. Despite Agnarr’s reassurances, I felt like I was about to head into danger, and that feeling lingered.

Inside it was cold, but at least there was none of the swirling snow. I gingerly felt my way through the narrow corridor, the torches lighting my path for another mile or so, until I reached the final burning wick. Up ahead, darkness stared back.

I took the torch from its makeshift holder—only for the fire to go out without warning. I whirled around in time to see the rest of the torches flicker out one after the other, until there was complete darkness.

“Seven hells.” I could turn and go out the way I came in, or I could forge ahead. Despite what I’d told Kalen, I reached for the azi, but found no consciousness other than my own. It felt like the mountain was one giant, runic ward, more complete and thorough than any I’d encountered before, and it prevented all kinds of magic, powerful and small.

I trudged on, with one hand on the wall to keep my balance. My eyes gradually adjusted; another fifth of a mile out, I found myself facing three forks in the path, all leading into further darkness.

Agnarr had never mentioned this. I paused, indecisive, until my eyes fell on three small, headstone-like markers growing before the diverging paths like stalagmites, weathered and eroding. Words glowed on each: Duty on the leftmost stone, Honor on the right, and Love at the center.

I had no idea what the stones meant and decided it would make no difference whichever one I picked. I made for the left passageway, cautiously passing the stone. I took several steps before finding myself blinking against a sudden glare, back in the Valerian asha-ka in Kion.