Dusk settled over the high subalpine crags of the Needlehouse on the evening of Day 80. That turned the surrounding limestone pinnacles into jagged black teeth silhouetted against a bruising, violet sky. Inside the rock shelter, the four travelers banked the embers of the hearth. That kept the fire down to a tiny, smokeless bed of red coals so no plume would betray their presence to scouts on the lower trails.
Kezra Venn laid two large drawings side by side across the cedar tabletop: on the left, the Reach-scale outside plan of the Needlehouse map hall. On the right, Nym Correl’s district rubbing of Coldwork Bench and the obstructing mountain shoulder.
“We have two choices,” Kezra said, looking around the small circle. Her voice was steady. He carried the calm power that comes when all illusions have been stripped away. “And we make this choice together, by unanimous voice, or we don’t make it at all.”
Paxa Sel leaned her back against the dry-stone wall, her arms crossed over her wool mantle. “Lay out the retreat first, Kezra. What happens if we turn around tomorrow morning?”
“If we turn around at dawn,” Kezra said, pointing south along the Hushwood trail, “we pack our twenty-two pounds of selected archive plates, our rations, and our climbing coils. We go down the lower switchbacks before Hest’s vanguard reaches the timber line. We have four active live sites on our ledger—two in Kilnstep, two in Hushwood—which gives us safe retreat addresses if we’re pursued…
