Page 61 of Spirit Storm

"Spread out," Mica suggests. "Look for handholds, another path, anything."

We fan out across the ledge. I run my hands over the surface of the rock, searching for cracks or handholds we might use. The stone is smooth under my palms, worn by centuries of weather.

Then my fingers catch on something.

Not a crack—a groove.

It’s a deliberate, carved slot in the stone. I trace it up the rockface. It runs vertical, perfectly straight, and is too uniform to be natural.

"Hey," I wave them over. "Look at this."

Mica and Asher crowd in, and I show them what I found.

Asher nods and points to where he was standing. “There’s another one here. And here."

He's right. Now that I'm looking for them, I see five grooves in total. They’re spaced evenly across the cliff face, each running up toward the summit.

Mica leans in close, her fingers hovering just above one. Her expression shifts. "These are channels."

"Channels for what?"

"Magic." She traces the air above the groove. "It’s an old practice. Really old. These were carved to conduct and compress elemental energy."

"Which means what?"

"Which means…" Mica straightens, something like awe lighting up her expression, "if we activate them, they'll create a wind vortex strong enough to lift us straight up."

My stomach drops. "You want us to ride a funnel cloud up a cliff face."

"In a full-on storm," Asher adds helpfully.

Mica crosses her arms. "Have either of you got a better idea?"

I don't. That's the problem.

I look up at the cliff, at the lightning splitting the sky above, at the storm that's getting worse with every passing minute because my sister is burning through magic she can't control.

"What if it tosses us over the edge?"

"Then we fall." Mica's voice is flat. "But if we don't try, Violet's dead anyway."

The wind howls. Thunder rattles my ribs.

Asher moves to stand by one of the channels. "I hate this plan."

I take position at the next groove over. "Yeah, me too."

Mica steps up to a third and hovers her hand over the carved stone. "On three. Press your palms flat and push magic into it. The channels should do the rest."

“Should?” Asher repeats.

"This is insane," I mutter.

"One."

Lightning cracks.

"Two."