I BLINKED. STANDING there, I thought I would have felt joy, or astonishment, or even terror, gazing down at the world so far away. Instead I felt a weary relief, like that which followed putting your feet up after a long day, or completing a chore. I was left with only the feeling that something had ended.
The world was still dark, save for the first pale sunbeams that spilled over the horizon. Mountains unfolded across the landscape—the Arya range to the south and west, and the mysterious Ashes to the north. I could see everything in every direction. It was too much to take in, as if I were gazing into a spirit realm that had been shaped by beings far greater and wiser than myself. The summit was a ghost floating in midair, deep shadows beneath it. I gazed around me, taking in the uneven terrain, which dipped toward a lower ridge that was jagged and worn like old teeth. Suddenly, I froze.
The ridge below, which sloped gradually toward the shadowed west, was lined with strangely formed pagodas and towers of what must have been stone, though they had a formless, shifting quality. Some had steps leading up them, while others, perched on precarious outcroppings, seemed made for creatures who could leap great distances or sprout wings and fly. The stone was dark, almost black, and the structures were guarded by tall, carved figures of animals rendered indistinct by the constant buffeting of the wind. Their position allowed for sweeping views to the north and west, while a narrow path—I could make out the line of it through the snow—led to the summit, where I stood.
I had found it—the witches’ sky city.
I gazed at it, transfixed by awe and fear. How was it possible that something like this could exist? I closed my eyes, wondering if I had stumbled into a dream. But when I opened them, the city was still there, as incomprehensible as it had been at first sight.
Swallowing, I began making my way cautiously down the stone path. It was steep, each stone uneven and several times the height of an ordinary stair. It was as if the witches had hewn the steps out of the mountainside itself.
I didn’t see any sign of River as I approached—the shadows were too thick. Nor was there any trace of his footsteps in the snow. With the high winds, though, I was not surprised. I had to crouch to the ground every few steps, gripping the stone, to avoid being buffeted over the side of the mountain. Biter didn’t attempt to fly—he burrowed into my hood, making himself as small as possible. Ragtooth, lower to the ground, did not appear bothered by the wind, though the tufts on his ears flapped madly.
As we approached the city, the first rays of the rising sun struck the towers. I gasped. Small crystals in the stone seemed to catch fire, and the entire city shone like a dark river against the snowy mountain. It was beautiful, though not an inviting sort of beauty. In that land of sky and fading stars, with its strange, enchanted stone, the city was forbidding. More than forbidding—I had an overpowering sense of being unwanted, as if a thousand pairs of angry eyes were boring into my back. The feeling was so strong I swayed, almost losing balance.
Ragtooth, oblivious to my distress, charged ahead, nose to the ground. Gritting my teeth, I stepped off the uneven stairs and followed. My boots crunched through the snow, deafeningly loud, it seemed, in that empty place. The snow was crusted and hard, the wind having swept away any loose powder. I thought—I thought—I could just make out the suggestion of someone else’s trail.
I surveyed the landscape, the scoured pinnacles and craggy ridges, the city tucked against a half-moon-shaped hollow in the mountainside. I had a strange urge to shout River’s name. A ludicrous instinct—River was my enemy. He had used me, and when I was no longer of value to him, he had tossed me aside.
I fought back the swell of fury and grief. I couldn’t lose control, not now, after coming so far. I squinted into the brightening sunlight. Where was he?
It doesn’t matter, a small voice inside me said. If River had already found the talisman, all was lost. But if he hadn’t—
Then I might.
“Biter,” I called. Lusha’s raven settled on my outstretched arm. “Do you know what we have to do?”
The bird gazed at me with emotionless black eyes. I had never cared for Lusha’s ravens, and they, for all I could tell, had never cared for me. But now I felt a strange kinship, as if the creature carried part of my sister inside itself. Biter croaked softly, cocking his head. Then he took off, soaring above the towers of the witch city, where he was lost to sight.
“All right, Ragtooth,” I said. “Biter will search from the skies. That leaves us to search from the ground.”
We set off, Ragtooth leaping through the drifts, his tail flicking back and forth. My tired, aching body protested as I forced it up a small rise, toward a squat tower with windows but no visible door. It was still hidden from the sun by the shadow of the land.
Something about the strange black stone mesmerized me. It was like no material I had ever seen—the smoothness of obsidian and the density of coal. Everything about it said stay away. The tower was not for human eyes. I was not meant to be here. And yet, in spite of this, or perhaps because of it, I felt compelled to touch it. I reached out.
My fingers passed through the stone.
I leaped back as if stung. The tower shuddered, wavering slightly before settling back into shape. There were four windows now, where before there had been five.
A slow shudder traveled from my neck to the base of my spine. The tower was made of shadow. It was impossible. Apparently, that didn’t matter in this impossible place.
I took a step back as another shudder raised the hair on my neck. The entire city was like this, its tiered pagodas and open-walled observatories, and unidentifiable beasts guarding it all. Was it truly a shadow city, or were my human eyes unable to comprehend the truth of it—like a monster in a dream that lurked always at the edge of sight? Every instinct screamed at me to turn back. Stay away. The angry eyes seemed to bore deeper.
Ragtooth let out a fierce growl. I whirled, following his gaze.
Standing on a raised promontory, his tahrskin chuba streaming behind him like a dark banner, was River.