It was raining when they reached the base of the mountain.
Not the kind of rain that roared or screamed just a steady drizzle, soft and relentless, like the sky was mourning something no one could name. Their cloaks were soaked, their boots squelching in the mud, but neither Kael nor Liora complained. You don't complain when you're used to the weight of the world on your shoulders.
The trail was narrow, carved into the cliffside like nature had done it reluctantly. Below them, mist rolled through the trees, slow and haunting. The air tasted like old stone and thunder.
"Do you remember what they called this place?" Liora asked, her voice almost swallowed by the wind.
Kael nodded. "The Spine."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "Some say it's the spine of a dead god. Others say it's the spine of the world itself. Me? I think people just like naming things they don't understand."
Liora smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
They pressed on.
Halfway up, Kael stopped without warning. "This is where he fell."
Liora looked at him. "Who?"
He didn't answer at first. Just stared at the rocky ledge to their left. His hand touched the wall like maybe it still remembered the weight of a dying friend.
"My brother," he said finally. "We were just kids. Barely more than fools with swords."
Liora's voice softened. "You never mentioned him."
"That's because I've spent every year since trying not to."
There wasn't any dramatic silence after that. No wind shift. No lightning bolt. Just the sound of rain on stone and two people carrying grief like armor.
"I think he'd be proud," Liora said.
Kael turned to her, something fragile flickering behind his eyes. "Of what?"
"Of you. Of what you became. Of the fact that you still remember where he fell."
Kael looked away, lips tight. "I don't know if that's pride-worthy. I remember because I never stopped feeling guilty."
She didn't press further. She just walked beside him the rest of the way up, silent but solid. Like a shadow that didn't judge, only stayed.
At the summit, the clouds broke just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through. It hit the old stone marker half-toppled, overgrown, but still standing. Like it refused to forget.
Kael crouched and traced the faded name carved into it. No last name. Just "Taren."
He whispered something. Liora didn't ask what.
Some names don't need to be said out loud to matter.
Some names are burned into the soul, and when you speak them even once it feels like bleeding.
So they left the mountain with nothing new gained but a moment.
And sometimes, a moment is enough to keep going.