Ben shivered.
It wasn't any ordinary shiver either.
These shivers were soul deep. Each one felt like his soul was having a seizure.
But there was nothing he could do.
Nothing that could be done to fight against this frozen hellhole.
And so he did the only thing he could. The one privilege left to a man who could do absolutely nothing about his situation.
He cursed.
The words were directed at himself mostly. Growing more violent each day he was stuck in this damn place.
He had volunteered to deliver the letter in his satchel. It had been a letter of the utmost urgency, that's all he had been told.
It seemed like such a good idea. back then The chance to complete an easy mission, enjoy some relaxed travelling while making himself look good to his superiors.
When they had told him to pack for cold weather.
He'd imagined a snow resort, with mansions carved into the mountain sides. After all, all powerful people were rich.
That hadn't been the case.
'I'm going to fucking murder Aldrin when I get back.'
Ben had wondered why his commander had seemed to smile so widely when he volunteered.
Now it made sense.
It was all a fucking trap.
Ahead of him was a mountain.
All around him were mountains, but this was the mountain he cared about.
It dwarfed the rest, making the other look like mere hills rather than the majestic snow peaks they were.
But most importantly, it was the mountain that he'd been told the figure would be residing on. He'd only been told one thing about the mountain where the figure would be.
'You'd know it when you see it.'
And Ben had to admit, they were right.
This was definitely the mountain. Not only because it dwarfed everything around it.
It was also the place where it resided.
Everything here seemed alive.
Maybe he was imagining it, maybe the cold was getting to him. Maybe he was just tired. Yet Ben couldn't help but think about it.
The nights in this place weren't normal. The dark here seemed to whisper. The shadow to flicker in ways it shouldn't.
The nights seemed hungry, and on a few occasions Ben would see things shift. Only in the corner of his vision, at the very edge of his sight. A slight movement where none should exist.
Barely a movement. Yet just enough to catch his attention. Just enough to make him wonder.
The wind didn't blow, it roared. It screamed and attacked in a freezing frenzy. Somehow sharp and blunt at the same time.
The snow was bad. It was like a leech, greedily sapping his energy as he treaded through it. Each step felt like two, each 5 minute trek a journey.
But the cold was the worst. It was hungry, possessive.
It gnawed at his limbs, clinging to his bones, permeating his soul. A cold beyond frost, beyond temperature. It seemed to fuse to him, to come from both around and within him.
And as he got closer to the mountain, there was only one thing he could think of. 'Who the hell could live here?'
Trembling, Ben pushed forward, forcing himself towards the mountain.
'Huh?'
As he got closer, he noticed steps. Not steps made from worn use, real steps. Steps that had been carved into the mountain, steps made for men.
He grinned. He couldn't help but grin. Stupidly smiling through the icicles clinging to his nose that had been snot ten minutes ago.
Finally, a lucky break.
As he took the first step, he stumbled, almost falling backwards.
'Did the air become heavier?'
Chuckling hoarsely, he shook his head, clearing the childish thoughts.
The cold really did get to him.
So he took another step.
This time he knew it was real. It was no trick of the mind.
Immediately he became breathless, as if his lungs had forgotten how to work. Pressure slammed into his shoulders, an impossible pressure. As if the mountain itself was weighing down on him.
'Am I ill? Should I just turn back?'
'No…let's get this damn thing done today.'
Ben knew, if he left now, he'd never come back. Not for all the money in the world.
So Ben took another step.
He took it while straining, while growling and trembling.
And then he screamed. Eyes going wide, lips peeled back in a snarl as he howled with a pain that seemed to come from the very depths of his being.
It felt like a thousand knives were being dragged across his mind.
He couldn't think.
He couldn't move.
He could do nothing but scream. Scream as though he had never screamed before, scream as if begging to die.
Spasming, Ben collapsed backwards, falling back onto the snowy ground.
As soon as he regained control of his limbs, he scrambled away. Tears fell from his face freely, and he fought to stop himself from letting out quiet sobs.
"Fool."
Ben froze. He felt something behind him. A pressure. A pressure that gave a promise.
Instinctively he knew that if he turned around, he'd die.
No glorious battle. No scream, nor plea for help.
Nothing but darkness.
He'd simply cease.
"Wh-"
"Why are you here?" The figure demanded.
Gulping, Ben slowly removed the letter from his satchel.
"I-I'm meant to deliver this letter t-"
"I see" the figure interrupted, snatching the letter from Ben's grasp.
"Boy…I suggest you leave here now, and never climb this mountain, and any other like it you see in your life, if you're unlucky enough to come across one twice."
Ben nodded. "Yes sir."
The pressure disappeared.
Still he never moved. He just waited, staying frozen for what felt like an eternity. The lingering fear rooting him to the spot.
Then, after mustering some courage, slowly, Ben turned.
And saw nothing.
Just snow and mountains.
No evidence of the figure that had been behind him. Not even two footprints in the snow.
Shivering, Ben clambered to his feet, and ran.
He didn't stop running, eyes wide and wild as he pushed himself to get away.
There was only one thing Ben Dover could be sure of as he escaped.
He would never climb a mountain again.
......…..
The figure meditated at the peak of a mountain. Snow frosted his clothes, but he did not shiver. Neither did his breath mist nor his face grow pale.
Below him was nothing. A sea of clouds, engulfing all evidence of the Earth below.
Here was at the top. Truly at the top. No normal man could survive this high. This was a height where life was not meant to exist.
But he did.
Meditating at the very top of the world. And yet, he was not at the mountain's peak.
He might've been at the top, with no more pathways to walk nor rock to climb.
But eyes were poor evidence by which to judge things.
He was not at its peak.
That he was sure.
If anything, the place he sat upon might only be his peak…and so the mountain didn't allow him to climb further.
He was stuck here, at the pinnacle of his potential.
Sighing softly, he stood, stretching his limbs. It had been years since he had left this place.
Perhaps one day he would find it, the mountain's peak.
But it would not be today. Nor tomorrow, nor any day if he stayed here.
He needed inspiration. Change. He needed to enter the world once more.
An opened letter sat beside him.
"So, you went and died."
The figure knew that the boy would die soon. He had chosen family over strength. Comfort over power. Settling for the average life of a good man rather than the great life of a powerful one.
And so he had died exactly how the figure had warned him he would.
He had died a nobody, in a skirmish that meant nothing.
He didn't grieve.
In his eyes, that boy had died the second he had refused the chance to be great. The second he had chosen mediocrity he had already died.
This letter was just...confirmation of that fact.
But he was curious.
James Skelter had been talented. Uniquely talented.
And yet Skelter had cared little for things like talent.
He was never one to thrive under the struggle. James had always preferred the warmth of the hearth rather than the fire of growth.
That was why he had rejected the offer to become his student.
An offer no one would refuse. An offer most would kill for.
But for James Skelter, his life, his comfort was worth more than anything else. His family, children and mediocrity was more valuable to him than any throne or power could give him.
Only now, that wasn't completely true.
It seemed in his final moments, James Skelter had finally found something worth more than his own life.
And so the figure couldn't help but be curious.
'I wonder, Arthur Gravewalker….who are you?'