{ "When distraction is hard to access, you don't have to worry about willpower." }
Tor met my gaze, his eyes steady, almost too calm for the tension in the air. His jaw clenched once, just barely, like he was about to say something he did not want to.
"Freyr," he said softly, his voice almost too controlled, "the mountain's not just playing games with us. It is singling us out."
I blinked; not sure I understood what he meant. But I could feel it then—the subtle shift in the way the fog curled around us, as though it was drawing a line between him and me on one side, and the rest of the group on the other.
"The stone, the blood..." Tor's voice dropped, like he was speaking to himself more than to me. "It's reacting to us specifically, to you and me."
I shook my head, my stomach twisting. "What the hell are you saying, Tor?"
