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The Cliff

  Chapter 7: The Cliff

  The cliff wasn’t just tall.

  It was impossible.

  Rough. Jagged. The rock face stretched upward like it had no end. Its surface was cracked and cruel, like it hated climbers. The desert wind howled louder here, screaming through the cracks as if warning me to turn back.

  But I couldn’t.

  I tightened my grip around the fork I had stolen days ago. My hands trembled, skin already raw from the sand and sun. But I knew… this cliff, this moment — it was the test.

  I took a breath. Another. My feet dug into the first groove of the rock, and I climbed.

  ---

  The first few meters were manageable. The rock still had shallow footholds. I could wedge my fingers into the cracks and find ledges.

  Every little thing I’d done in the last ten days — from pocketing the fork, to wrapping torn fabric around my hands, to scouting the terrain — it all paid off now.

  But the cliff got crueler the higher I went.

  ---

  Halfway up, the sun disappeared behind clouds. The wind picked up. My right foot slipped, and I barely caught myself.

  My chest slammed into the rock. My breath left me.

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  “No…”

  I hung there, shaking. My arms burned. My legs screamed. The pain was too much. My grip was fading.

  I can’t.

  I can’t—

  A memory hit me.

  My mother, brushing dust off my shoulders when I fell as a kid.

  My brother, laughing as we raced down the hallway.

  My father’s voice: “Get up, Ashish. You’re stronger than this.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. And for the first time in weeks — maybe months — I let them fall.

  But crying wasn’t enough.

  At the gist of it I also remembered rhea I don't know why but her care her softeness covered my mind and I was like No...

  I bit my lip.

  Hard.

  Blood spilled onto my tongue.

  Pain. Real pain.

  It grounded me.

  I took the fork from my belt and slammed it into the rock, wedging it like a hook. It barely held — but it held.

  One pull.

  Then another.

  I clawed upward. Bloody fingers. Splintered nails. Sand in my eyes.

  The wind tried to push me off, but I screamed back at it — wordless, primal rage — and kept climbing.

  ---

  By the time I reached the top, I wasn’t even sure I was still human.

  I rolled onto the flat stone surface, chest heaving. The fork clattered beside me.

  Above me, the sky was dark.

  But I was alive.

  And ahead of me… something was waiting.

  Five figures.

  Four strangers and a platform.

  Level One.

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