Journey to the Summit

The biting wind whipped at Elias's exposed cheeks as he crested the ridge, the first tendrils of dawn painting the fog-choked valley below in shades of bruised purple and hesitant gold. Beside him, Kael, his guide, remained a stoic silhouette against the pre-dawn gloom. Kael was a man carved from the mountain itself - lean and weathered, with eyes as grey as the granite peaks surrounding them and a thick, braided beard the color of lichen. He wore layers of patched wool and carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone intimately familiar with the mountain's moods. "Almost there," Kael rasped, his voice roughened by the cold. "Sunrise will be upon us soon." He pointed towards a jagged spire barely visible through the swirling mist. Elias squinted, his breath clouding the air. A thrill, laced with trepidation, shot through him. He fumbled in his pack for his camera, eager to capture the vista. "Careful now," Kael warned, his hand firm on Elias's arm. "The ground is treacherous here." He tested the ground ahead with his axe.