One Wrong Step

Prolog

Lungs burning, she fought to catch her breath. The view was staggering, but her body was too battered by the ascent to truly drink it in.

Clicking the camera to life, Tiffany panned across the horizon before settling the lens on Maddie.

"Wave for the camera," Tiffany managed, her voice strained but bright.

They were beaming—the kind of raw, ecstatic smiles only found at the edge of the world.

"We’re at the summit of Island Peak!" Madison screamed. Her voice cracked with joy, oblivious to the sudden shift in Tiffany’s expression. The triumph in her friend's eyes vanished, replaced first by confusion, then by sheer, cold terror.

The mountain began to shudder. At first, it was a fine tremor, like the peak itself was shivering in fear, but it quickly escalated into a violent heave. A deafening roar swallowed the world, a wall of sound that turned their hearing to cotton, making it impossible to tell where the threat was coming from.

A sharp, jagged scream ripped through the air. The camera tumbled, spinning wildly before hitting the ground on its side. The last frame was a chaotic blur of white snow and billowing black smoke—then, the feed cut to black.

The mist before her eyes turned an abyssal soot-black, thick and choking. A sudden blast of air—searing hot yet bone-chillingly cold—slammed into her face. The air turned rancid with the stench of kerosene and scorched metal. The roar reached a crescendo so intense it felt as though every capillary in her head had burst at once.

Darkness crashed in. There was a sickening, rhythmic crunch of structural failure, and then, the world dissolved into fire.

CHAPTER 1

"I don’t want to go in there."

"Are you serious right now? We flew halfway across the world for this mountain!"

Outside the window of the battered SUV, sheer cliffs and jagged rocks dominated the landscape. Every few yards, the remains of recent rockfalls and scree slopes lined the path. The vehicle jolted violently over the uneven track, making the driver mutter nervously under his breath and causing Tiffany’s face to take on a sickly, greenish hue. Madison’s light-blue eyes barely concealed her growing concern for her friend. Tiffany sat hunched over, pressing herself into the seat, refusing to look at the road as the motion sickness took hold.

A wave of nausea rose in her throat. She squeezed her light-brown eyes shut, praying for nothing but darkness. Tiffany’s complexion fluctuated between a ghostly pallor and a faint, bruised pink.

The three-hour drive felt like an eternity. By the time they finally pulled up to a hostel named *Nomad’s Home*, their legs were cramping, and Tiffany looked like she was at death's door.

"I’ll grab the bags."

Without waiting for an answer, Madison hauled two suitcases and her trekking pack toward the entrance. Tiffany didn't argue; she simply followed the blonde girl inside with unsteady steps.

"Do you need help?" A hostel worker suddenly appeared beside them. He looked to be in his early twenties, with almond-shaped eyes, broad cheekbones, and skin deeply bronzed by the sun.

"I’m Raj," he introduced himself, grabbing the suitcases and lugging them toward a small sofa near the reception desk. His accent was soft and barely noticeable—a clear sign that he was used to the constant stream of tourists.

"Documents, please," Raj said, extending a hand. While Madison rummaged through her backpack, he watched their movements with keen interest.

"Madison Riley?" Raj confirmed, checking the passport. Madison nodded.

"And... Tiffany Beverly?" He shifted his gaze to the pale girl. For a second, he froze, as if something about the way she stood or the look in her eyes unsettled him, but he merely let out a heavy sigh.

"Your keys. Room four." He handed them the ring and grabbed their belongings, heading for the second floor.

"You're here for the trek?" Raj asked. Most travelers came here for one thing: Island Peak.

"Yeah, we decided to give it a shot. It's not too difficult, is it? My friend is a little worried," Madison said, glancing around as they followed him.

Raj slowed his pace for a fraction of a second, glancing at Tiffany over his shoulder with a strangely arched eyebrow.

"For a first time, it’s not so bad... if you know the rules," the boy replied. He stopped in front of a heavy iron door marked with a '4,' gave a quick nod, and hurried back downstairs without looking at Madison again.

The lock was jammed, clearly showing its age—hardly surprising given the worn-down state of the budget hostel. Madison shoved the door open and stepped inside, only to freeze in her tracks. Tiffany followed, immediately crossing to the old wooden windows and throwing them wide.

Below, smoke curled from chimneys across the rooftops. Locals were hanging laundry, children were sprinting through the alleys, and the occasional trekker wandered past. The cool, crisp air hit her face—less aggressive than it had been that morning. The room wasn't much, but it was cozy in exactly the way Tiffany liked. There were two narrow beds piled with heavy blankets, creaky floorboards, and walls that had yellowed with the passage of time.

"The view is great, but I’m actually going to throw up now."

With that honest confession, Tiffany disappeared into the bathroom. Madison nodded and switched off the yellow-tinted lamp that made her eyes ache. She collapsed onto the bed by the wall, managed to kick off her shoes and shed her jacket, and felt the weight of exhaustion pull her under. Her legs throbbed and her stomach growled, but sleep was the only thing that mattered. Pulling the heavy blanket over her, she surrendered to the darkness.