When Valerlanta reached the base of the mountain, a group of soldiers were setting up camp. Near them, hired climbers inspected ropes and other gear while gesturing at the mountain and debating the best path.

Valerlanta watched them from hiding for a long moment, and a wicked smile came on her lips.

The item at the top must be valuable if this many people were out to guard it.

This was not even the first group she had come across. Small pockets of people were positioned at every climbable trail up the mountain. This was her last option up the mountain, which also meant she needed a way past them.

There was no way Valerlanat could sneak by quickly enough to get ahead of them.

So, Valerlanta went above them into the trees.

Arms stretched out like wings, Valerlanta stepped foot-over-foot. The branches bent as she neared the ends, and she winced as they creaked and groaned. Her feet dodged young shoots, terrified of knocking a leaf loose. If she did, it would surely twirl right down to the men below.

One leaf, one simple little leaf, could give her away.

Luckily, her balance was as good as her climbing. Swift hands, great climbing and balance, and archery; those were her claims to fame. Without them, her father would never let her do anything at all.

When she was past the camp, she dropped from the tree and let out a laugh.

'I'd like to see one of my fathers people try that.'

Her head leaned back, taking in the whole of the mountain.

It would be a strenuous climb, but she wagered she could make it up and back before dark.

'Time to go.'

Valerlanta hiked at a steady pace until the incline became so steep the only option was to use hand and foot holds.

She fell into deep concentration, and she found the task both thrilling and relaxing. Yes, climbing was a risk, but it was also a puzzle and she loved those. If you did not plan right, you could end up stranded with nowhere to climb. Grab the wrong area, and you might grab a rock that would fall and bring you down with it.

For a moment when she was far above, she paused to catch her breath, pressing against the mountainside and looking at the view. The clouds obscured much of the forest floor from view, and what she did see looked tiny in comparison.

If Valerlanta fell from here, there would not be much of her left intact to find.

The thought momentarily made her stomach lurch.

“Alright, up we go,” she said, forcing herself to keep moving. “You can take it easy on the way down.”

When she saw the first snow, she knew she was close. It was no more than a patch between some rocks, but it fueled her determination. A chill crept into the air. Valerlanta could soon see her breath and her fingers numbed, but she could not risk climbing with mittens on.

Higher and higher she climbed until, finally, she pulled herself onto a ledge.

‘No,’ she realized. ‘Not a ledge.’

The smooth flat surface was the base of a staircase leading to a castle of stone and ice. It was built into the crescent-moon shaped mountain that formed a half-bowl shape. Within the bowl was a glacier. It was the middle of spring and just this morning she had seen flowers and lush grass, but up the mountain it was a land forever stopped in winter.

Giggles of relief escaped her as she rolled onto her back and let her exhausted limbs rest.

Valerlanta turned her head towards the nearest mountain to the one she stood on. The peek looked impossibly far, but long before Valerlanta — or even her father— was born, great bridges connected this mountain to its nearest neighbor. From there, a spiral of bridges and roads led to the ground, but no longer. According to the story, after the queen died, it became too much trouble for the royals to justify the journey to the castle. It was too high and too hard to get to, so it was abandoned and the bridges destroyed to preserve the memory of it.

And Valerlanta had climbed it without the help of those bridges at all.

A tingle of thrill sent goosebumps across her flesh.

She had done it.

She climbed Hyllpeak mountain without ropes or guides, and had beat her competition as well!

Valerlanta pushed to a seat and let her gaze follow a set of narrow stone stairs, up to the castle.

Some of the structure was brick, but a vast majority was built into the mountain itself. The only indication of where the castle continued were the windows scarring the rocks.

Valerlanta sat there, breathing hard and staring at the sky for a long moment.

The air was thinner this high up, so it was taking longer than normal to regulate her breathing.

‘I wonder how the kids did,’ she thought then burst up and shook her head as if to shake the thoughts away.

This had been her choice.

Adventure awaited.

The doors — huge enough for a giant — were open when Valerlanta reached them, and snow and ice had blown in.

Valerlanta paused in the threshold.

There were two sets of prints in the snow, as well as frozen blood smears and drag marks.

The one print was clearly human.

You could tell a lot from prints. Judging by the foot size, the length of the stride, and several other factors, Valerlanta estimated the prints belonged to a male of average height.

The other prints were not human. Worst of all, it had been dragging kills into here, which meant that its den was likely somewhere within.

She strung her bow and knocked an arrow before continuing.

In the main hall, two large statues waited.

One was a woman with large almond eyes and bat-like pointed ears, and beside her was a human man with a large beard. In one hand he held hers, and in the other he held a sword.

The Dryad queen Dallylyn and her husband Rumleke.

Valerlanta considered them and felt her hand raise to trace her own face, stopping on the cheekbones there under the leather.

She shared none of their features, she thought, but it was their fault all the same that she had to wear the mask. Valerlanta supposed she should feel something looking at her ancestors, but her father had been all the family she had ever known.

Her blood family were strangers to her.

Continuing on, she found a large hall with stained glass windows. Some were broken, but others cast a strange rainbow of colors across the castle hall.

Upon the glass, a man stood before a flowering cherry tree with an axe, and in the next panel that tree was an injured woman. The woman — who Valerlanta assumed to be the queen — was obviously not human. She had those strange pointed ears, petal pink skin, and black doe-like eyes that filled in the whites completely.

The final panel showed them holding hands and standing with touching brows.

“Adorable,” she said dryly as she continued on.

There was one benefit to the cold; the castle froze in time. It still had its lush blue carpets, and careful woodwork. When Valerlanta peeked into rooms, she found crates of storage, bedrooms, and reading rooms. All with the furniture intact, as if the residents of this castle could come out from a room at any moment.

There was only one thing frequently haunting these halls, though, and she was following it’s scratch marks.

Along the way, Valerlanta found a bedroom unlike any other. It had long dead ivy clinging to the stonework of the walls, starting from pots on the ground or on furniture. The tangles crept along the roof to meet at the canopy of the grand bed. Little objects with gears hung from the window, and several more hung from strings on the roof. A few of the contraptions looked like birds, others like stars.

According to stories, the Dryad were far more advanced than humans, and she believed it. They did, after all, live longer than humans so it only made sense to her that they would find talents to fill their long lives with.

Every item in here would all be worth a fortune, but she had very little room to spare.

Upon a table was a tree small enough to fit in her pack. It was silver, had dangling leaves of crystal, and a spent candle below the canopy.

Curious, she tapped the canopy and felt a shock so strong it made a “pop” sound.

Valerlanta jumped back, whispering all the curses she knew and shaking her hand.

“What in the toad turd was that?” she snarled.

The trunk sparked, and the candle flickered to life. The canopy spun in slow circles, and sent brilliant beams dancing across the room.

Where she touched it, she saw a pinprick of blood.

Her blood.

It stole blood from her.

‘Blast’n tree,’ she took a step back, an unsettling feeling sinking in.

The tree played a tune — one she did not recognize — and there within the notes of music she heard a voice. A voice that sent goosebumps across her flesh and her heart slamming.

‘Come closer,’ the tree said and Valerlanta immediately turned for the door.

“Forget it,” she said as she went. “I am not that stupid.”

‘Come back,’ it whispered.

“Not likely,” she replied.

The thief hurried out the door and down the hall.

‘Come back,’ it said then. When she didn’t, the words got louder and more desperate. ‘Come back, come back, COME BACK!’

Valerlanta covered her ears, but it did no good. The sound was in her head.

Instead of listening to a strange voice coming from a strange object in a strange castle, Valerlanta ignored it. It wailed and begged, and she pretended it was not there.

Valerlanta moved from hall to hall, then stopped at the entrance to the throne room.

Her goal, and, worryingly, the den of the dragon.

The throne room had several small skylights on the steep roof with curved glass. Somehow, that glass helped to both heat and light the room.

Perhaps that was what made it the ideal choice for the dragon.

There were two thrones of equal height; one made of curving ivy-like wood, and one of stone. They were positioned between a circle of large pillars that seemed made to draw the eyes to those two seats

In front of those thrones the dragon had deposited its large pile of treasure.

‘Come back!' The voice shrieked so loud it seemed to rattle her brain.

Valerlanta held her temples, waiting for the pain to pass.

When it did, the voice went silent.

A sharp point dug into her back right below the shoulder blades.

“Do not dare move,” a deep voice said.

“Bloody blast’n tree,” she cursed.