The second step felt heavier.
Not because the ground changed—
But because he wasn't alone.
Amir stood at the edge of the terrace.
The observer stepped beside him.
Close enough that Amir could feel it—
Their presence.
Grounded.
Stable.
Like the mountain itself.
"…don't slow me down," Amir muttered.
"…don't fall," the observer replied.
Amir exhaled.
"…fair."
He stepped forward.
The ground responded immediately.
Not shifting randomly—
Adjusting.
To both of them.
Amir felt it.
The imbalance doubled.
"…this is worse…"
"Yes."
"…figured."
The observer moved.
Not ahead.
Not behind.
Beside him.
Perfectly in step.
Amir tried to match it—
Too late.
Their rhythm didn't align.
The ground shifted.
Hard.
Amir slipped—
Caught himself—
Barely.
"…you're forcing your pace," the observer said.
"…and you're not adjusting."
A pause.
"…because I don't need to."
That stung more than expected.
Amir steadied his breathing.
"…then I'll make you adjust."
He stepped again.
Slower.
More deliberate.
The observer didn't resist.
Didn't change.
They flowed with it.
Effortless.
"…how are you doing that?" Amir asked.
"…I'm not moving for myself."
Amir frowned.
"…then what are you moving for?"
"…for the ground."
Silence.
Amir stepped again.
Careful.
Measured.
The ground didn't shift.
Not yet.
"…I don't get it…"
"You're still thinking about yourself."
A sound cut through the mist.
"…help…"
Amir froze.
"…ignore it," he muttered.
The voice came again.
Closer.
"…you left them…"
His chest tightened.
"…I said ignore it…"
The observer didn't react.
Didn't even look.
"…you hear that?" Amir asked.
"…yes."
"…and you're just ignoring it?"
"…it's not part of the ground."
Amir clenched his jaw.
Another step.
The whisper grew louder.
"…too late…"
The ground shifted.
Amir slipped—
The observer grabbed his arm.
Firm.
Instant.
Pulled him back into balance.
"…focus," they said.
Amir exhaled sharply.
"…I was—"
"…you weren't."
Silence.
That hit.
Hard.
Amir steadied himself.
"…again."
He stepped forward.
This time—
He didn't try to match the observer.
Didn't try to lead either.
He listened.
Not to the voice.
Not to the wind.
To the ground.
To the shift beneath his feet.
The observer moved.
Amir followed.
Not perfectly.
But closer.
The ground stayed steady.
"…that's it," the Anito said quietly.
"…you're aligning."
Amir exhaled slowly.
"…not with you…"
"…with it."
The whisper returned.
Louder.
Sharper.
"…you failed them…"
Amir's hand tightened.
But he didn't stop.
Didn't turn.
He stepped.
Steady.
Controlled.
The ground accepted it.
The observer glanced at him.
Just briefly.
"…better," they said.
A pause.
"…but not enough."
Amir frowned.
"…there's more."
"…always."
The mist thickened.
Suddenly.
The path narrowed.
Edges fading into nothing.
The drop below—
Gone from sight.
"…that's new," Amir muttered.
"…adapt."
The ground shifted again—
More aggressively this time.
Not testing balance—
Breaking it.
Amir adjusted—
Too slow—
His foot slipped—
The edge disappeared beneath him—
He dropped—
Then—
A hand caught his wrist.
The observer.
Holding him.
Effortless.
"…you fall again," they said.
Amir gritted his teeth.
"…not this time."
He pulled himself up.
Back onto the terrace.
Breathing hard.
"…you relied on me," the observer said.
"…for a second."
"…that's enough."
Amir exhaled.
"…then I won't next time."
The observer released him.
Stepped back.
"…then prove it."
Amir stood still.
For a moment.
Then stepped forward.
Alone.
The ground shifted.
The mist pressed in.
The whispers returned.
Louder.
Closer.
"…too weak…"
"…too slow…"
"…too late…"
Amir didn't react.
Didn't resist.
He stepped.
Carefully.
Listening.
Not to fear.
Not to memory.
To the ground.
One step.
Then another.
The terrace steadied.
The mist thinned.
The voices faded.
And when Amir reached the end—
He didn't stop.
He turned.
Walked back.
Without being told.
The observer watched him.
Silent.
Still.
Then—
"…you passed," they said.
Amir exhaled.
"…barely."
"…no."
A pause.
"…you learned."
The wind stirred faintly.
Far away.
But this time—
Amir didn't reach for it.