Dawn broke cold and clear on our first full day of travel. I woke before Adrian, the mountain chill seeping through my bedroll despite the magical heating stones Marcus had provided. The forest around our small camp was silent except for distant bird calls and the whisper of wind through pine needles.

I sat up carefully, breath misting in the frigid air. Adrian was still asleep on the other side of the dead campfire, his SSS-rank constitution apparently allowing him to ignore discomfort that would leave most people miserable. Or maybe he was just better at pretending rest than I was.

The reality of what we were doing hit me again in the quiet morning. Two days of travel to reach the facility. Then two weeks of training that had a one in three chance of killing me. The numbers didn't get less terrifying with repetition.

I rekindled the fire with a minor flame spell, more for comfort than warmth. The magical heating stones were more efficient, but there was something primal and reassuring about actual flames. Adrian stirred as light and warmth spread through the camp.

"Morning," he said, voice rough from sleep. "How long have you been awake?"

"Twenty minutes. Couldn't sleep anymore."

"Nervous?"

"Constantly." I pulled out field rations from my pack. Dried meat, hard bread, and some kind of preserved fruit that Marcus swore was nutritious if not delicious. "You?"

"About the training? Terrified. About the journey there?" He sat up, accepting the food I offered. "This part is almost peaceful. Just walking through wilderness, no immediate threats, no Council agents trying to kill us. It's nice."

"Enjoy it while it lasts."

"Planning to."

We ate in companionable silence, watching the sun creep higher through the trees. The light turned everything golden, catching on patches of snow that still lingered in shadowed areas. Beautiful and remote. The kind of place people rarely visited, which was exactly why Victoria had chosen this route.

After breakfast, we broke camp with practiced efficiency. By the time the sun cleared the treetops, we were moving again, following the narrow mountain path that wound steadily higher.

The first few hours passed with minimal conversation. The terrain demanded attention - loose rocks, steep inclines, sections where the path narrowed to barely shoulder-width with drops on either side. Adrian moved with the easy confidence of someone who could probably survive falling off a cliff. I was more careful, S-plus rank constitution or not.

Around midday, we stopped at a small plateau that offered a view of the valley below. From this height, the world looked small and distant. Silvercrest was barely visible on the horizon, a smudge of civilization in otherwise wild country.

"Long way from home," Adrian observed, settling onto a flat rock.

"That's the point. Isolation from fate thread networks." I drank from my water flask, rationing carefully. The next reliable water source was hours away. "The fewer connections to other people, the safer the training."

"Because each connection is another thread the Council can track." Adrian looked thoughtful. "Do you think they know where we're going?"

"Victoria says the facility is warded against narrative scrying. The Council has blind spots, and this is one of them. Built by previous resistance members specifically to hide from fate manipulation."

"Previous resistance members who mostly died attempting the technique we're about to learn."

"Also true."

Adrian laughed, the sound slightly manic. "We're really doing this. Walking into a training ground where most students die, attempting a technique that requires arguing with reality itself, all because cosmic entities gave us an ultimatum."

"When you phrase it that way, it sounds bad."

"It is bad. It's objectively terrible." He stood, brushing dust from his pants. "But it's better than the alternatives, which is the most depressing thing about our situation."

We continued climbing. The afternoon sun warmed the air slightly, though the altitude kept temperatures cool. My legs burned from the constant upward movement, but it was good pain. The kind that came from pushing physical limits rather than injury.

As evening approached, we found another clearing suitable for camp. This one had a small stream running through it, providing fresh water and a pleasant background sound. We set up the heating stones, started a fire, and settled in for the night.

The stars came out spectacular and overwhelming. This far from civilization, with no light pollution and crystal-clear mountain air, the sky was a tapestry of light. I'd seen stars from Silvercrest, but nothing like this. It felt like you could reach up and touch them.

"Beautiful," Adrian said quietly. He was sitting across the fire, looking up. "I grew up in the capital. Too much light to see stars properly. I forgot how many there are."

"There's a theory that each star is a different world. Different stories playing out under different suns."

"And the Council controls all of them?"

"Not all. Victoria says they control dozens of worlds. Hundreds maybe. But not infinite. There are places beyond their reach, stories they haven't corrupted yet."

Adrian was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, "Are you scared?"

The question hung in the air between us, more vulnerable than anything he'd asked before. I considered lying, giving some confident answer about being prepared and ready. But we were past that point. Tomorrow night we'd reach the facility. Pretense felt pointless.

"Of the training? Terrified. One in three chance of death is terrible odds. Plus the very real possibility of going insane during Perception stage or fading during Contact." I poked the fire with a stick, watching sparks rise. "Every time I think about what we're walking toward, part of me wants to turn around."

"But you're doing it anyway."

"Because being scared and doing it anyway is the only kind of bravery that exists. Charging into danger without fear isn't brave, it's stupid. Charging in despite fear, knowing the risks and choosing to face them anyway - that's courage."

Adrian considered this. "I always thought bravery was not being scared. That real heroes didn't feel fear."

"That's what the stories say. The hero faces the dragon without fear, defeats impossible odds through pure confidence." I shook my head. "But that's narrative. That's the Council's script. Real people are scared of real danger. They just choose to act anyway."

"So we're not actually heroes."

"We're people. Scared people making scared choices and hoping they turn out right." I looked at him across the fire. "That's scarier than being a hero. Heroes have plot armor. We just have preparation and spite."

Adrian laughed, genuine and surprised. "Spite-based survival. That should be our motto."

"It's gotten me this far."

The fire crackled between us, warm and bright in the mountain darkness. Somewhere in the distance, a night bird called. The stream burbled over rocks. Normal wilderness sounds that felt surreal given what we were discussing.

"Can I tell you something?" Adrian asked. "Something I've never told anyone."

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