"W-where did he go?" Hillel asked, hurrying to the edge of the rocky barrier and peering into the swirling mist, as though expecting to spot Ezra clinging to a ledge.


    Caladeus snorted, feeding more sticks into the small fire. "Ten Steps," he muttered. "That''s his spark."


    Eujal could only stare, disbelief etched on his face. One moment Ezra had been there; the next, he''d simply vanished. The power some sparkers wielded clearly went beyond parlor tricks. "He''ll… be back soon?"


    "Sure," Caladeus said. "Usually."


    He had barely finished speaking when a fist-sized stone whistled out of the darkness and struck Caladeus right across the cheek. With a yelp, the man reared back, dropping the bundle of kindling. A bright flicker of crimson flame erupted along the side of his face where the rock connected, momentarily singeing his hair.


    "What the—!" Caladeus clapped a hand against the flare of fire, stamping it out with obvious annoyance. "Dammit, boss!"


    Ezra materialized behind the projectile, boot scraping the dirt as he reappeared precisely where the stone had landed. He rolled his shoulders, apparently unconcerned about the chaos he''d just caused. "Path ahead''s mostly clear," he said, tapping the rock with the toe of his boot. "But we''re ditching the wagon. There''s no way through for it."


    Caladeus swore under his breath, still gingerly touching his singed cheek.


    Ezra ignored him. Turning to Hillel and Eujal, he gestured at the wagon behind them. "Go and look through it. Take anything you absolutely need. I''ll grab most of the food. We move on foot from here."


    Hillel glanced at Eujal, his grey eyes bristling with anger. "Why should we listen to you?"


    Ezra''s pink-tinged eyes narrowed. "Because I''m the one in charge around here," he replied bluntly. "And unless you''ve got a better plan for crossing these mountains, you''ll do as I say."


    Eujal could see that Hillel''s anger was increasing. He placed a hand on his arm and pulled him back. "That guy''s got a point," Eujal muttered. "Let''s just grab some stuff."


    Although still clearly annoyed, Hillel nodded. Together, they walked to the wagon and climbed inside. The smell of damp canvas and old leather pressed in as they began rummaging through the supplies. In a front compartment, they found a ragged map with edges charred as though it had been near a fire. Nearby, a battered red coat was folded haphazardly on top of a small chest. A half-dozen daggers, their blades glinting in the lantern light, lined a crate stuffed with stale bread. A small pouch of coins rattled inside.


    Hillel''s eyes lit up at the map, and he snatched it eagerly. "A map...this could be helpful," he muttered, though the printing on the map looked faded and incomplete. Perhaps he wanted to use the map to see if he could recognize anything on it. Unfortunate that it was in such a condition.


    Eujal crouched, running a hand over the row of daggers, each with slight variations in shape and hilt. One, though, caught his eye: its blade was matte black, seemingly absorbing any glimmer of light that touched it. Without hesitating, he scooped it up and tested the balance. "We''ll need protection," he reasoned, sliding the blade through his belt loop.


    They each took armfuls of stale bread, tucking it into a small sack they''d found. As they finished, Eujal nudged Hillel, nodding toward the coins. "Might as well take that too. Who knows when we''ll need some money."


    Hillel quickly pocketed the pouch, and they clambered back out of the wagon. The bitter wind bit at their faces, though the small fire Caladeus had lit offered some relief.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Ezra stood off to one side, tugging at the oxen''s reins. The poor beast let out a plaintive snort, as though sensing something amiss.


    Hillel frowned as Ezra unlooped the reins from a nearby branch. "What are you doing?"


    Ezra didn''t respond until he''d led the ox to the very edge of the ruined path. In one fluid motion, he drew a dagger from his hip and, before anyone could protest, swung it in a vicious arc. The ox''s head dropped with a muted thud, blood spraying onto the gravel. With a quick shove, Ezra pushed the carcass off the path, into the darkness below.


    Hillel let out a horrified gasp, stumbling backward. "W-why would you—? It was just—"


    Ezra wiped the blade on a rag at his side, his tone cool. "It wouldn''t survive out here. Can''t leave it to starve or freeze. This was my mercy."


    Eujal fought back a wave of nausea, forcing his gaze away from the cliff''s edge. The image of the ox''s final moment stuck in his mind, but there was no time to process it fully. But one thing was for sure, he had to be wary of this man. He was truly dangerous.


    Ezra''s dagger vanished into its sheath, and he turned without ceremony to the remnants of the wagon. "Stay here," he said to Eujal and Hillel. "Caladeus will make a torch, and I''ll gather the last of our supplies."


    There was a curt nod from Caladeus, who still wore a scowl from the recent stone-to-the-face incident. He rummaged through what was left in the wagon''s front seat, pulling out a length of cloth and a small metal canister. Within moments, he had wrapped the cloth around a sturdy branch and poured what appeared to be animal fat all over it. He pressed the fat-soaked cloth against the fire he made earlier. It caught almost instantly, casting a warm but unsteady glow across the jagged rocks.


    Meanwhile, Ezra tossed various supplies into a single large sack. Probably whatever was left of the wagon''s inventory. Hillel and Eujal kept their distance, still reeling from what they''d witnessed with the ox. Eujal felt a bit bad for Hillel—this experience was probably going to traumatize him for quite some time.


    Once he finished packing, Ezra slung the bag over his shoulder and approached the rockfall, gesturing for the others to follow. "I''ll set up my ability," he said. "Then we''ll cross together."


    Eujal exchanged a look with Hillel, who appeared uneasy but determined not to let it show. Even Caladeus, torch in hand, offered no protest, though his cheek still bore a raw patch from the flaming rock.


    "So," Hillel ventured quietly, "this ''Ten Steps'' of yours… how do we…?"


    "Just do what I say," Ezra replied tersely.


    He began pacing across the cleared ground, stepping firmly about nine times before slamming his foot against a fist-sized stone from the rubble. He picked up the stone and walked forward.


    He stopped near the edge of the collapsed path, turned, and pitched the stone in a high arc over the jumble of boulders. He listened as it rattled against unseen rock on the other side, then nodded in satisfaction.


    "All right," he said, beckoning them over. "When I say ''jump,'' you grab hold of me—shoulder, arm, anything. Don''t hesitate, and don''t miss."


    Eujal and Hillel stepped closer, while Caladeus maneuvered in behind them, still holding the torch high. The wind whipped at their clothes, and loose pebbles skittered along the precipice. Below, darkness yawned.


    Ezra took a slow breath. "One… two… three—jump!"


    On cue, Eujal and Hillel lunged, each grabbing one of Ezra''s shoulders. Caladeus slapped a hand on Ezra''s back. In an instant, all four vanished into the night.


    A dizzying lurch seized Eujal''s stomach, and for a heartbeat he felt weightless. Then reality snapped back into focus. The ground beneath him was uneven, but solid, and he stumbled forward, letting go of Ezra''s shoulder as he caught his balance.


    Hillel nearly fell to his knees, hands slamming onto the rocky surface. Caladeus managed to land on both feet, albeit with a grunt of discomfort, the torch miraculously still in hand. Perhaps he was used to this, far more than the two kids.


    They were now on the far side of the debris. Rubble loomed behind them, stretching across what remained of the old trail like a jagged scar. A narrow, twisting path led away along the mountainside, flanked by steep cliffs on one side and dizzying drops on the other.


    "The hell…" Eujal muttered, pressing a hand to his chest. His heartbeat thundered against his ribs, and a faint afterimage of darkness danced in his vision from the brief teleport.


    Hillel pushed himself upright, clutching the battered map. "That was… insane," he breathed.


    Ezra, looking only slightly winded, surveyed their new vantage point. "We''ll stick to that trail," he said, pointing to the winding path that cut across the mountainside. Far off, near a bend, a cluster of flickering lights winked in the distance—an unmistakable sign of habitation.


    "What''s that?" Hillel asked, following his gaze.


    "Main road, I''d wager," Ezra answered. "Let''s get moving."


    Caladeus exhaled noisily, turning his head away from the cliff edge. "Good. The sooner we''re out of the mountains, the better." He sneezed. "I hate the cold anyway."