The air on the mountain's peak felt wrong the moment Noah's boots touched stone.
Not cold exactly, though it was cold. Heavy. Pressing down on his chest the way deep water pressed against a diver, and he found himself breathing shallower without deciding to, his body making the adjustment before his brain caught up to why.
Ivy landed beside him and didn't relax.
She'd been growling since the chase with Storm ended, low and continuous, and up here the sound deepened, her whole body angled forward, wings half spread, putting herself between Noah and the open space ahead of them without being told to.
Mist rolled across the shelf in slow banks, pale and thick, swallowing visibility down to a few meters in every direction. Snow lay undisturbed across most of the surface, the kind of unbroken white that suggested nothing had walked here in longer than Noah wanted to think about.
