Those Who Remain Unnamed
The full strength of the storm had set itself against me and I had prevailed. In all honesty, it was not even a proper mountain, merely a glorified hill. And yet it had been my Everest. The shrieking wind was suddenly silent, the echoes in the distance faded away. Even the chill in my bones felt some relief… it wasn’t that the cold had gone, but a warmth had kindled within. You might argue that the exertion had warmed me, but I would argue it was hope. Blind hope, perhaps even reckless hope… but the thought of somehow finding a way out of here…. It warmed my bones like nothing else could. Yet the hope that had kindled quickly sputtered back into mere embers. This hill that was meant to be my salvation (though I knew not HOW), was little more then a rise of earth crowned by strewn stones and a faded, fractured crystal rock near the center. It appeared as if there had once been walls and a central tower on this rise. The presence of the crystal mystified me, however. Yet this ...