Half a league below the hidden supply chute, the trail crested a hogback ridge of black pine and ironstone that folded like a closed shutter between the fugitives and the upper peak. Up to that boundary line, the mountain itself had carried a faint, sub-heard shaking. The leftover pulse of the Hollow Summit’s black bronze pillar, split into manageable intervals by Seyun’s three copper needles left at its base and routed outward by Nara Soth’s Crown endurance.
Even through solid rock and falling snow, that surrounding rhythm had acted like a gentle downhill grade for the four temporarily disconnected captives on the litters, reminding their damaged inward channels when to turn breath in back toward the heart. Daro Kesh and Osen Tal carried the second litter across the ironstone seam at the ridge crest. Then, the mountain’s stone grain shifted from current-carrying dark flaky rock to dead, porous limestone.
Within ten paces, the distant sustaining hum vanished as fully as a lantern snuffed behind a stone door. Inside Seyun’s own chest, the third mark below his chest bone registered the drop right away. Its raw silver curve settled from a taut, ringing wire into a heavy, silent weight.
On the front litter, Vey, Tov, and Maren reacted to the sudden silence in the rock within three breaths. Vey gasped and clutched at her wool blanket as the familiar external nudge disappeared from behind her breastbone. Tov’s shoulders bunched against a sudden chill. And Maren’s fingers dug into the pine pole.
