THE CLIMB

  Viewpoint – Data

  Year – 0

  Location –Zadash Forest

  I stirred beneath my cloak, shifting against the hard ground, listening to the hush of the sleeping village. Frost clung to the rooftops, softening their edges, muting every sound. Above me, the mountains loomed, their peaks catching the first breath of morning light, glowing faintly against the deep blue remnants of night.

  I sat up slowly, shaking off the stiffness, and pulled my pack onto my shoulders. The air was crisp, laced with the scent of pine, moss, and damp earth. A thin mist curled through the trees, clinging to the undergrowth before vanishing with the slow rise of the sun. I filled my lungs, steadying myself.

  The mountains waited, patient and unmoving.

  It was time.

  Without looking back, I began walking.

  The trail wove through the last stretch of forest, where the trees stood sparse but tall, their branches sagging beneath the weight of frost. Shafts of golden light pierced through gaps in the canopy, illuminating the frozen ground in fleeting, shimmering patches. My boots pressed into the brittle earth, leaving shallow imprints the wind would soon erase. Far below, the valley stretched in layered mist and shadow, the rivers glinting like silver threads.

  The cold gnawed at the edges of my skin, creeping into the seams of my cloak, but my body had long since learned to move through discomfort. The higher I climbed, the more the air thinned, crisp and untouched, carrying only the whisper of wind through stone and the distant cry of something unseen.

  I kept my pace even, pausing only to drink from the flask at my side. The world around me was vast, silent, waiting.

  I pressed forward.

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  My mind wandered where it most often did.

  *Is there truly a higher power orchestrating all of this? Or are we just specks, adrift in an indifferent universe?* It felt like trying to touch the stars—always there, glimmering just beyond reach. I could observe and study, but never fully step into belief. Something always held me back, something was always missing. And so I wandered, searching for my place in this vast world. I roamed the earth like a beggar, hungry not for food but for knowledge and wisdom.

  I wandered alone across vast landscapes, carrying nothing but the weight of my thoughts. I sought wisdom in monasteries perched on distant hills, where monks whispered about the impermanence of life, the fleeting nature of everything we hold dear. In this search, I wandered for years. I crossed continents, journeyed through the temples of kings, and sat in the caves of hermits. What struck me was that, despite their status or wealth, humans are all the same in their need for answers; for something to believe in.

  I studied sacred texts and listened to wise men who spoke as if they held the keys to the universe itself. I knelt in countless temples, huddled before altars, and yet…nothing. None of it gave me the solace I craved. Yet I kept searching, not with despair, but with a certain sense of understanding. Again and again, I drank from the well of their knowledge, only to find my thirst for understanding growing deeper, more unquenchable.

  And so, I wandered. My feet dragged, worn from the countless miles, but I kept moving forward, a seeker’s quest for the merest glimpse of enlightenment.

  By midday, the trees had thinned, then disappeared entirely, replaced by jagged rock and ice. The wind grew sharper, threading through my layers with biting precision. I stopped briefly to rub ointment onto my face and hands, its greasy layer offering little warmth but enough to keep the cold from settling too deep.

  By nightfall, the path had narrowed to a thin ledge along the mountainside, the drop below fading into a sea of darkness. I placed each step carefully, leaning into my staff, my breath visible in the freezing air. The silence here was absolute, broken only by the crunch of my boots against ice.

  I found shelter beneath a low rock ledge, stretched my tarp between two boulders, and anchored it with rope and stone. A small fire crackled at my feet, its flickering light cast restless shadows against the rock.

  As I sipped my tea, I looked out over the valley. The lights of the town were a distant glimmer, barely visible against the dark expanse. Above me, the peaks seemed to stretch into the sky, daunting appendages of a beast that had no intention of allowing my passage. A sentinel soldier who would only allow the enthralled, the most misguided, the desperate.

  I pulled my cloak tighter, my gaze lingering on the mountains, their presence steady, unshaken.

  The fire burned low, its warmth fading to embers.

  Eventually, I slept.