Renasha stood outside the boarding house, rolling her shoulders against the weight of sleeplessness. She'd pinned notices at three taverns and the market square, each one blunt: *Rune carver seeks traveling companion. Northern cursed lands. Pay negotiable. Serious inquiries only.* The man who found her wore silk the color of wine and moved like he'd rehearsed his entrance. He leaned against a wooden post near the boarding house steps, smiling as though they'd already met. "You're the one looking for a guide north," he said. He produced a carved bone token from his coat, dangling it from a leather cord. The etchings were intricate, looping in patterns she recognized as protective symbols. "I've crossed the boundary twelve times. I know the way past the stag." Renasha glanced at the token, then at his face. "Why?" she asked. He blinked, smile flickering. "Why help me," she clarified. "You don't know me. You don't know what I'm doing there." He twirled the token between his fingers. "Let's say I have an interest in what lies beyond the ice. And you're clearly desperate enough to pay well." The word *desperate* landed wrong. She thought of the fourteen pages on her wall, the rune that bled, the vision that woke her in the dark. She stepped back. "I'll find someone else," she said. He straightened, the smile gone. "You won't," he said. "No one goes north unless they're running from something worse. Or they're fools." He pocketed the token. "But suit yourself. When you change your mind, ask for me at the eastern inn. Everyone knows where to find me." He walked away without looking back. Renasha watched him go, her jaw tight. She had no guide, no time, and the frozen stag marking the cursed region's edge was three days' walk from here. She turned back toward the boarding house, already planning her next move.

Renasha walked toward the northern gate at first light, her pack already strapped across her shoulders. The man in silk had been right about one thing: no one else had answered her notices. She had two days left before the gate became impassable, and three days' walk beyond it to reach the cursed region's edge. The timing didn't work unless she left now. The gate itself loomed against the pale sky, its wooden frame listing slightly to the left. Foundation posts jutted at crooked angles from the ground where recent repairs had failed. Workers clustered near a stone-and-wood inn built into the fortress wall, their voices carrying across the courtyard. One man stood apart from the others, holding a twisted metal rod that caught the morning light. Ice crystals spiraled along its length in patterns too precise to be natural. He gestured with it toward the gate's base, speaking to someone Renasha couldn't see. She walked closer. The man with the rod turned, and she saw his face clearly now — younger than she'd expected, with ink stains on his shirt cuffs and sawdust in his hair. He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed her. "Gate's closing in two days," he said. "Probably less if the wind picks up. You're not getting through." Renasha met his eyes. "I need to get north before it falls. You're the one who proved it was failing?" He raised the twisted rod slightly. "This did. Showed them the stress fractures they couldn't see. They still didn't listen fast enough." She pulled one of her notices from her pocket and held it out. "Then help me. I'll pay you double what the fortress does." He stared at the notice, then at her face. "You're serious." It wasn't a question. "The cursed lands kill people. And you think I'm going to walk in there with you because you're offering coin?" Renasha's jaw tightened. "I think you're someone who sees what others don't. Who proves it when no one believes you." She paused. "I have fourteen pages of calculations that say a populated region is going to die. The gate closes, I can't reach it in time, and everyone there is gone." He was quiet for a long moment. Then he tucked the rod under his arm and took the notice from her hand. "Rylan Foil," he said. "And if we're doing this, we leave in an hour. The posts won't hold past tomorrow."