But Maven is the abyss. I can’t face him. Not yet. I’m not strong enough to do it. He’ll just laugh in my face, taunt and torture, turning the screws embedded too deeply. I need to heal a bit, before he can pick open my wounds again.

So instead of walking down into the city, I go up. And up. And up.

At first I follow the road we took over the mountain, when the raiders struck down on the plain. We know now that it was a planned attack, meant to distract us while the Lakelanders rescued Prince Bracken’s children. The raiders were paid to do it, and paid well. I kick at stones as I go, replaying the battle in my mind. The silence clawed at my body, like something alive and unnatural beneath my skin. Replacing my lightning with emptiness. Cursing, I push the thought away and turn off the road, into the rocks and trees.

The hours pass, and the air seems to burn in my lungs, searing down my throat. It’s matched only by the fire in my muscles. They scream with each new step, every foot forward and upward over the rocks. Snow puddles in the shadows, white and pure even in the late summer. It turns ever colder as I climb, my feet sliding over dirt and pine needles, gravel and naked rock. In spite of the pain, I push on.

Streams trickle past, running down the mountainside to pool in the lake far below. I look back through the gaps in the pines, into the valley. The mountains dwarf Ascendant, and the foreign capital looks like a child’s toy from this distance. White blocks strewn around ribbon-thin roads and winding stairs. The mountain range seems endless, a jagged wall of stone and snow dividing the world in half. Above, the clear blue sky beckons me to continue the climb. I do my best, stopping at the streams to drink and splash my red, sweaty face.

Occasionally I fish out crackers from my pack or strips of salted meat. I wonder if the smell might lure a bear or a wolf across my path.

I have my lightning, of course, close as the breath in my lungs. But no predator ever comes near. I think they know I’m as dangerous as they are.

All except for one.

At first I mistake him for an outcropping of rock, silhouetted against the perfect blue, still in gray clothing. The pines are sparser at this high altitude, offering little shade from the noon sun. I have to blink, rubbing my eyes, before I realize what I’m looking at.

Who I’m looking at.

My lightning splits the granite boulder beneath him in two. He moves before it strikes, sliding off into the rocks.

“You bastard,” I snarl, advancing with speed, the adrenaline sudden and surging in my blood. It drives me, as does frustration. Because I know, no matter how fast I am, no matter how strong my lightning, I’ll never catch him.

Jon will always see me coming.

His laughter echoes over the slope, coming from higher up. I snarl to myself and follow the sound, letting him lead me. He laughs and laughs, and I climb and climb. By the time we’re out of the trees, over earth too high for anything to grow, the air has turned harsh and cold. I choke down a gasp of anger, letting the temperature shock my lungs. And I slump, unable to go any farther. Unwilling to let Jon, or anyone, control where I go and what I do.

But mostly I’m just exhausted.

I lean back, bumping against a large boulder smoothed by centuries of unforgiving wind and snow.

My breathing comes hard and heavy. I think I might never catch my breath, just as I’ll never catch the damned seer.

“The altitude,” his voice says. “It makes everything difficult if you aren’t used to it. Even your fire prince would have a hard time climbing his first mountain.”

I’m too tired to do much more than glance at him, eyes half lidded. He perches above me, legs dangling. Jon is dressed for the mountain weather, in a thick coat, with well-worn boots on his feet. I wonder how long he’s been walking, or how long he had to wait up here for me.

“You know as well as I do he isn’t a prince anymore,” I answer, choosing my words very carefully. Maybe I can get him to reveal something, just a sniff of the future ahead of us all. “Just like you know how long he’ll be a king.”

“Yes,” he replies, smirking slightly. Of course he knows what I’m doing, and he says only what he intends to say.

I heave another heavy breath, sucking air into my starved lungs. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking in the view.”

He still hasn’t looked at me, his red eyes trained on the horizon. The sight before us is amazing, more splendid than it was a thousand feet below. I really do feel small, and large, everything and nothing, sitting here on the rim of the world. My breath fogs before my eyes, a testament to the chill. I can’t stay long. Not if I want to get down before nightfall.

I wish I could take Jon’s head with me.

“I told you this would happen,” he murmurs.

Snarling, I bare my teeth at him. “You didn’t tell me anything. My brother might be alive if you did. Thousands of people—”

“Have you considered the alternative?” he snaps. “That what I did, what I said and didn’t say, did and didn’t do, saved more?”

I ball a fist and kick my foot, sending a shower of gravel skittering down the slope. “Have you considered just keeping your nose out of everything?”

Jon barks a laugh. “Many times. But whether I involve myself or not, I see the path. I see the destination. And sometimes I just can’t let it happen.”

“So nice you get to decide,” I sneer, bitter as I always am with the wretched newblood.

“Would you like the burden, Mare Barrow?” Jon replies, lowering himself down so we sit side by side. He smiles sadly. “I didn’t think so.”

I shudder beneath his crimson attention. “You told me I would rise, and rise alone,” I mutter, repeating the words he spoke so long ago, in an abandoned coal town half shrouded by the rain. That was my fate. And I’ve watched it become truer with every passing day. When I lost Shade. When I lost Cal. But also in the steady detachment, the cold hand that seems to worm itself between me and everyone else I love. No matter how hard I try to ignore it, I can’t help but feel different, broken and angry, and therefore alone. With only one person left who truly understands. And he is a monster.

I lost Maven too. The person he pretended to be, the friend I loved and needed when I was so alone and so afraid. I’ve lost so many people.

But I’ve gained many. Farley, Clara. My family is still with me, safe but for Shade. Kilorn, never wavering in his loyalty and friendship. I have the electricons, newbloods like me, who prove I am not alone. Premier Davidson and all he hopes to do. They outnumber everyone I’ve lost.

“I don’t think you were right,” I mumble, half believing the words. Next to me, Jon jolts, his neck cracking as he looks at me sharply. “Or has that path changed too?”

Even though I hate his eyes, I force myself to stare into them. To look for a lie or the truth.

“Did I change it?”

He blinks slowly. “You changed nothing.”

I feel like elbowing him in the throat, or the gut, or the skull. Instead I slump backward, tipping my head to glare at the sky. Jon watches, chuckling a little.

“What?” I snarl, eyeing him.

“Rise,” he murmurs, pointing to the valley thousands of feet below. Then he points to my chest. “And rise alone.”

This time I bat his arm weakly, wishing I could inflict more hurt on the seer. “I know you weren’t talking about climbing a mountain,” I growl. “‘No longer the lightning, but the storm. The storm that will swallow the world entire.’”

He just rolls his shoulders and looks out to the range again, his breath steaming in the cold air. “Who knows what I was talking about.”

“You do.”

“And I’ll keep that weight to myself, thank you very much. No one else needs it.”

I scoff. “You act as if you enjoy lording our fates over us.” Chewing my lip, I weigh my chances again. A hint from him could be infinitely valuable, or damning, throwing me onto a path of his choosing. I simply have to take the chance, and consider what he says with a mountain of salt. “Any more choice words, little nudges, you might condescend to give?”

The corner of his mouth lifts, but his eyes waver, almost sad. “Your friend is better at fishing than you.”