Seeing Sol from the ground was one thing; up close, it was a different world.
The city sprawled across thirteen levels, the lowest still a considerable ride from the base of the foothills. The highest level barely reached halfway to the mountain’s peak, leaving room for generations to come.
But the real wonder?
Much of Sol was hidden from view. Built into the mountainside, it was a labyrinth of mining shafts now turned into streets and homes. As miners dug deeper, the city expanded, filling the empty tunnels with life.
The Andeluith, Sol’s pride, rose above us. From the outside, it was a dull gray stone, but its inner levels gleamed with white marble, glowing like a pearl beneath the sun. Even from here, I could hear the faint laughter of children and the hum of daily life.
“Behold, the jewel of the mountains!” Clay spread his arm wide, pride shining in his eyes. I couldn’t blame him. Sol was a sight to behold.
“It’s beautiful!” Nienna’s voice trembled with awe as she leaned forward. The mule beneath her balked at the sudden shift, and I snatched the reins, steadying her mount as she gasped, gripping the saddle.
“Remember where you are,” I warned.
She shot me an unapologetic glance, but I didn’t release my hold until she settled, her weight balanced once more.
“I’ve never heard of Sol.”
“You don’t know the districts?” I asked, surprised. She had seemed so prepared when she arrived in Radaan.
“Oh, I read the names,” she said, “but how did the books miss the beauty of it?”
I chuckled.
Gayle turned to answer. “We’re a private people. Few brave the climb.”
“Self-sustaining, dear.” Clay corrected with a knowing glance.
“You don’t let many up the path through the mountains,” I added, drawing out the words.
“It goes through my home—of course not.” He scoffed. “They’re free to try the passes if they want.”
I shifted in my saddle, my eyes tracing the narrow bridges below, where they zigzagged across the gap between the cliffs and the sharp angles leading up the mountain. It wasn’t for the faint of heart.
We rode on, Gayle pointing out the flowers growing in the cracks of the rock, while her husband narrated each layer of stone we passed. When we reached the first plateau of sloped grassland, she rode ahead to check on the city’s preparations.
“You must see the Kuh’lir!” Clay urged.
It didn’t take long before Nienna spotted one.
“By the sea beneath, is it flying?!” She shaded her eyes against the sun, squinting at the steep cliff.
He burst into laughter, his wild mane of frizz bouncing as he shook his head. “Oh no. That’s just how good they are atclimbing!”
Far up the rock face, a massive golden ram clung to the mountain, its hooves tucked into invisible footholds. It tore off a handful of flowers, swinging its horns our way. Unfazed by our presence, it chewed the plants with slow, deliberate movements.
“That’s Er’oer,” Clay said, pride lacing his voice. “The largest of our bucks. I’m breeding a line big enough to mount.”
“You want to ride them?” I raised an eyebrow. That was a first.
“The Kuh’lir are known for their hair, butthesecould carry a rider into the mountains within a few generations. Imagine it, Kallias,” the man twisted in his seat, his eyes gleaming. “A mountain force that could go straight through the peaks!”
“Dragons can fly over.”
Clay blinked at Nienna, and I stifled a smile. She knew how to rattle him.
“Yes, well, it would still be an imposing force.”
