On the Shelf of a Thousand Doubts, Seeker Josec collapses into a shivering ball. The wind at this height threatens to rip her woolen cap off and toss it into the abyss. Each breath feels like a mountain stream in her throat, icy and tumultuous. The Spire’s pale marble sucks the warmth from her thigh, her shoulder. Josec crawls the few feet to the edge.
Don’t look down, Ganas seems to whisper in her head. But Josec ignores her Master’s remembered admonishment. Having come this far, she has earned the right. Ganas himself has never gotten beyond the Triumphant Ledge.
From the Platform of Tenacity hundreds of yards below, the face of the Spire rises vertically, caressed by wisps of cloud. Josec’s eyes roam involuntarily, picking out ridges and fingerholds; her muscles remember the forms, the movements, the balances that brought her this far.
