Second Floor [4]

"Ah, shit! What the fuck was I thinking, proposing to do this willingly?"

The wind howled against Azriel's face as he clung to the jagged rock, his fingers desperately searching for cracks or edges to grip.

Each gust felt like a punch, the cold air gnawing at his exposed skin, and every step down felt like a reckless gamble with death.

On any other day, he might have laughed at himself, knowing that even with a blade pressed against his neck, he wouldn't have done what he was doing right now.

But...

Here he was.

Doing the one thing he swore he'd never do.

Heights were, without a doubt, his worst enemy.

One wrong move, one slip, and he'd plummet into the black sand below.

A quick, brutal end.

"How the fuck are the others supposed to climb down this cliff like me?"

Unlike Azriel, most cadets weren't this strong.

Though he prided himself more on his speed, he knew he was stronger than most first-years.