Alpine

Zara Kouri stared at the brain scan on her computer screen, brow furrowed in concentration. The neural pathways flickered and pulsed, a dazzling light show of human consciousness. But something wasn’t right. She zoomed in, enhancing a cluster of neurons near the hippocampus. “Impossible,” she muttered. The lab around her was silent and dim, lit only by the glow of monitors. It was well past midnight, but Zara had lost track of time hours ago. She often worked late into the night, preferring the quiet solitude to the bustle of daytime activity. ...

The crunch of snow beneath Mira Lawson’s boots echoed through the crisp mountain air. She paused, her breath forming small clouds in front of her face, and gazed up at the towering peaks surrounding her. The majesty of the landscape never failed to humble her, even after years of studying these mountains. But today, something felt off. Mira’s trained eye scanned the snowpack, noting the layers and inconsistencies. She knelt, pulling out her field notebook and jotting down observations. The recent weather patterns, combined with what she was seeing now, set off alarm bells in her mind. ...

Evelyn Thorne’s boots crunched through the autumn leaves as she made her way along the forest trail. The crisp mountain air filled her lungs, carrying the scent of pine and wood smoke. Up ahead, the rustic timber frame of Whispering Pines Lodge came into view between the trees. As she approached, Evelyn noticed Marcus Reid, the lodge owner, chopping firewood near the front entrance. His flannel shirt stretched across broad shoulders as he brought the axe down with practiced swings. At the sound of her footsteps, he paused and turned. ...

The scent of wild lavender drifted through the open window, carried on a warm summer breeze. Mira inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar fragrance that had become synonymous with her time in this small mountain town. She stood at the kitchen sink, absently washing dishes as her mind wandered. Six weeks. That’s all the time she had left before returning to her real life in the city. Six weeks until she had to leave behind the quaint charm of Lavender Peak and the unexpected connections she’d formed here. Mira’s hands stilled, sudsy water dripping from her fingers as she gazed out at the purple-tinged mountains in the distance. ...

The wind howled through the jagged peaks, carrying whispers of ancient secrets. Mira Callen pulled her parka tighter, squinting against the swirling snow as she trudged up the steep mountain trail. Her boots crunched through a thin layer of ice with each labored step. “How much farther?” she called out to the broad-shouldered figure ahead. Eli Roth glanced back, his weathered face impassive beneath a fur-lined hood. “Another hour, maybe two. Depends how fast you city folks can move.” ...

The wind howled through the jagged peaks of the Broken Range, carrying with it the faint echo of a scream. Lira paused in her climb, her ice axe embedded in the frozen slope. She cocked her head, listening. Nothing but the whistle of the wind and the crunch of snow beneath her crampons. “Just the mountain playing tricks again,” she muttered, shaking off the chill that had nothing to do with the subzero temperatures. ...