Journey to the Summit

The world was a canvas of gray as Liam crested the final ridge. Dawn was a promise whispered on the wind, but the fog clung stubbornly to the mountain peak. Beside him, Kaelen, the guide, a wiry man with eyes the color of glacial ice and a beard dusted with snow, planted his axe firmly in the rock. Kaelen was a man carved from the mountain itself, his weathered face a map of countless ascents. "Almost there," he rasped, his voice a low rumble that barely carried over the wind. "Just a bit further to the summit." Liam shivered, pulling his thermal tighter. The air bit with teeth of frost, and the swirling fog muffled every sound, creating a sense of eerie isolation. He glanced down at the treacherous drop, a dizzying abyss of swirling white. He quickly averted his gaze. The landscape, when visible, was breathtaking, a jagged panorama of snow-capped peaks piercing through the fog like islands in a celestial sea.