The wind howled through the jagged peaks of the Broken Range, carrying with it the faint echo of a scream. Lira paused in her climb, her ice axe embedded in the frozen slope. She cocked her head, listening. Nothing but the whistle of the wind and the crunch of snow beneath her crampons.
“Just the mountain playing tricks again,” she muttered, shaking off the chill that had nothing to do with the subzero temperatures.
Kaz whined softly from a few feet below, his thick fur ruffled by the gusts. The mountain dog’s dark eyes were fixed on a point in the distance, ears pricked forward.
“What is it, boy?” Lira asked, following his gaze. The swirling snow obscured her view, but for a moment she thought she glimpsed a flicker of movement along the ridge.
She blinked, and it was gone.
With a sigh, Lira resumed her climb. The clients she was guiding were a good half-hour behind her, struggling with the thin air and treacherous terrain. She needed to scout ahead, find the safest route through this maze of ice and stone.
As she neared the crest of the ridge, the wind died down suddenly. An unnatural stillness fell over the mountainside. Even Kaz’s panting seemed muffled.
Lira’s fingers tightened on her ice axe. She knew this eerie calm - had felt it once before, on that fateful day five years ago when-
A creaking groan split the air. Lira whirled, heart pounding, as a massive sheet of snow began to slide from the slope above.
“Avalanche!” she screamed, though there was no one close enough to hear.
Lira scrambled for shelter, Kaz bounding ahead. They dove behind an outcropping of rock just as the wall of snow roared past. The ground shook. Snow filled the air, blinding and suffocating.
When it finally settled, Lira emerged cautiously. The mountainside had been transformed, familiar landmarks buried or swept away. She took a shaky breath, adrenaline still surging.
“That was too close,” she murmured to Kaz, who pressed against her leg. “We need to get back to the clients, make sure they’re-”
She broke off as something caught her eye. A dark shape in the snow, half-buried by the avalanche. At first she thought it was a boulder, but as she drew closer she realized it was moving. Breathing.
A person.
Lira rushed forward, Kaz at her heels. She dropped to her knees and began digging frantically. As she cleared away the snow, she uncovered a face - weathered and lined, framed by a wild tangle of gray hair and beard.
The man’s eyes fluttered open, cloudy and unfocused. His lips moved, forming words Lira couldn’t hear.
“Hold on,” she said. “I’ll get you out of there.”
But as she worked to free him, the old man’s hand shot out with surprising strength, gripping her wrist.
“The mountain,” he rasped. “It’s angry. You shouldn’t have come back.”
Lira recoiled. “What? How did you-”
The man’s eyes rolled back and he went limp. Unconscious or…
Lira checked for a pulse with trembling fingers. There - faint but steady. He was alive, barely.
She glanced around, torn. The clients would be worried sick after the avalanche. But she couldn’t leave this man to die.
With a grimace, Lira made her decision. “Sorry guys,” she muttered. “Looks like we’re taking a detour.”
It took nearly an hour to dig the old man out completely and rig up a makeshift sled from her climbing gear. By the time Lira started down the mountain, dragging her burden behind her with Kaz’s help, twilight was falling.
The fading light played tricks on her eyes. More than once she thought she saw shapes moving in the shadows between the rocks. Watching. Waiting.
Lira shook off the fanciful thoughts. The mountain was just a mountain. Unforgiving and dangerous, yes, but not malevolent. Not alive.
The scream of the wind sounded almost mocking.
By the time Lira reached the tiny cabin nestled in a protected valley, night had fully fallen. Her arms ached from dragging the sled, and her legs trembled with exhaustion.
She pounded on the door. “Hello? Is anyone there? I need help!”
For a long moment, there was only silence. Then came the scrape of a bolt being drawn back. The door creaked open, revealing a grizzled face peering out suspiciously.
“What do you want?” the man growled.
Lira gestured to the unconscious figure on the sled. “This man needs help. He was caught in an avalanche. Can we come in?”
The cabin’s occupant grunted, looking past her to study the prone form. His eyes widened in recognition.
“Eldrin? Blasted fool, what’ve you gotten yourself into now?”
He stepped back, waving Lira inside. “Well don’t just stand there gawking. Bring him in.”
Together they manhandled the unconscious man - Eldrin - onto a narrow cot by the fireplace. As her host bustled about gathering blankets and stoking the fire, Lira took stock of her surroundings.
The cabin was small but snug, every inch of space utilized. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with books, jars, and items she couldn’t identify. In one corner stood a scarred wooden worktable covered in arcane-looking instruments.
“You’re a long way from the usual climbing routes,” the man said, breaking into her observations. “What brought you up to Eldrin’s neck of the woods?”
Lira hesitated. “I was guiding a group, scouting ahead when the avalanche hit. I found him half-buried in the snow.” She didn’t mention the unnatural calm before the slide, or Eldrin’s strange words.
The man harrumphed. “Eldrin’s lived up there for decades. Knows the mountain better than anyone. Not like him to get caught out like that.”
He turned, fixing Lira with a piercing stare. “I’m Garrick. And you are?”
“Lira. I’m a guide with Summit Expeditions.”
Recognition flashed in Garrick’s eyes. “Ah. You’re Mira’s sister.”
Lira stiffened. “You knew Mira?”
“Of her, at least. That accident five years back caused quite a stir, even for us hermits.” He paused, expression softening slightly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Lira nodded stiffly, the familiar ache rising in her chest. “Thank you,” she managed.
An awkward silence fell. Garrick busied himself tending to Eldrin, checking vitals and muttering under his breath.
“Will he be alright?” Lira asked after a moment.
Garrick grunted. “Hard to say. Eldrin’s tougher than he looks, but he took quite a beating. We’ll know more when he wakes up.” He straightened, joints popping. “Speaking of, you look dead on your feet. There’s a cot in the back if you want to get some rest. Your dog too.”
Lira hesitated. “I should really get back to my clients. They’ll be worried.”
“In this weather? At night? You’d be risking your neck for nothing.” Garrick shook his head. “No, best to wait till morning. I’ve got a radio. We can try to reach your base camp, let them know you’re safe.”
Lira wanted to argue, but exhaustion won out. She nodded gratefully. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
As she settled onto the cot, Kaz curling up at her feet, Lira’s last thought before sleep claimed her was of Eldrin’s words.
The mountain is angry. You shouldn’t have come back.
What did he mean?
Lira jolted awake, heart pounding. For a moment she didn’t know where she was. Then memory rushed back - the avalanche, the old man, Garrick’s cabin.
She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Wan morning light filtered through the cabin’s small windows. Kaz raised his head, thumping his tail in greeting.
“Good, you’re up,” Garrick’s gruff voice came from the main room. “Come have some breakfast. Eldrin’s awake.”
Lira hurried out, Kaz at her heels. Eldrin was propped up on the cot, looking pale but alert. His piercing blue eyes fixed on Lira as she entered.
“So,” he said, voice raspy. “You’re the one who pulled me out.”
Lira nodded. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I tangled with an angry bear and lost.” He managed a wry smile. “Thank you for saving this old fool’s life.”
“Of course. I’m just glad I was there to help.” Lira hesitated, then pressed on. “Do you remember what happened? What you were doing up there?”
Eldrin’s expression clouded. “I was… searching for something. Something important.” He shook his head. “It’s all a bit fuzzy.”
“Here,” Garrick interrupted, thrusting a steaming mug into Lira’s hands. “Drink this. It’ll warm you up.”
Lira sipped cautiously. The liquid was bitter but not unpleasant, with hints of herbs she couldn’t identify. Almost immediately, she felt more alert, the lingering aches in her muscles easing.
“What is this?” she asked.
Garrick’s eyes twinkled. “Just a little pick-me-up. Old family recipe.”
As they ate a simple breakfast of porridge and dried fruit, Lira filled them in on the events leading up to finding Eldrin. When she described the unnatural calm before the avalanche, both men exchanged a significant look.
“What?” Lira demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Eldrin sighed. “The mountain… it’s more than just rock and ice. There’s power there. Old power.”
Lira frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He means,” Garrick cut in, “that there are forces at work up there that most folks don’t understand. Eldrin’s been studying them for years.”
“You’re talking about magic,” Lira said flatly. “You can’t be serious.”
“Call it what you will,” Eldrin replied. “But I’ve seen things on that mountain that defy explanation. And lately, the energy has been… turbulent. Angry, even.”
A chill ran down Lira’s spine as she remembered Eldrin’s words from the day before. “You said I shouldn’t have come back. What did you mean?”
Eldrin’s gaze was sympathetic but unyielding. “Your sister’s death disturbed something. The mountain remembers, child. And it does not forgive easily.”
Lira recoiled as if struck. “That’s ridiculous. It was an accident. A terrible, stupid accident.” Her voice cracked. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
“Perhaps,” Eldrin said softly. “But intention matters little to forces beyond our understanding. Your presence here has stirred things best left dormant.”
“You’re crazy,” Lira snapped, standing abruptly. “Both of you. I need to get back to my clients.”
Garrick raised a hand. “Hold on now. I tried reaching your base camp earlier. No response. The storm’s only gotten worse overnight.”
Lira’s anger faltered, replaced by worry. “I have to try. They could be in trouble.”
“And you’ll be no help to them if you get yourself killed,” Garrick countered. “Give it a few hours. If the weather clears, I’ll go with you myself.”
Lira wanted to argue, but deep down she knew he was right. With a frustrated sigh, she sank back into her chair.
“Fine. But only a few hours. Then I’m going, storm or no storm.”
As if in answer, the wind outside howled, rattling the cabin’s windows. It sounded almost like laughter.
The hours crawled by with agonizing slowness. Lira paced the small cabin, alternating between staring out the windows at the raging storm and pestering Garrick to try the radio again.
Eldrin watched her with a mixture of sympathy and wariness. “You’re very like her, you know,” he said during one of her circuits. “Your sister. She had that same fire in her eyes.”
Lira whirled on him. “Don’t. Just… don’t.”
Eldrin held up a placating hand. “I’m sorry. I only meant-”
“I don’t care what you meant,” Lira snapped. “You didn’t know her. None of you did. So stop acting like you understand what happened.”
A heavy silence fell. Even Kaz, curled by the fire, lifted his head to whine softly.
After a moment, Eldrin spoke again, his voice gentle. “You’re right. I didn’t know Mira. But I know loss. And I know the weight of guilt, even when it’s undeserved.”
Lira’s anger crumbled, leaving behind a raw ache. “I should have been there,” she whispered. “I should have saved her.”
“Oh, child.” Eldrin’s weathered face creased with compassion. “Sometimes there are forces beyond our control. It doesn’t mean we stop trying. But we can’t let the guilt consume us.”
Lira swiped angrily at the tears threatening to fall. “Is that why you live up here? Hiding from your guilt?”
A sad smile touched Eldrin’s lips. “In a way. Though I prefer to think of it as seeking answers. Understanding.”
“And have you found it? This understanding?”
Eldrin’s gaze turned distant. “Glimpses. Whispers. Enough to know how little I truly comprehend.” He focused on Lira once more. “But I’ve learned this much - the mountain responds to emotion. To intention. Your grief, your anger… it resonates.”
Lira opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. She thought of the unnatural calm before the avalanche, the shapes she’d glimpsed in the shadows. The echo of a scream on the wind.
“So what am I supposed to do?” she asked, voice small. “Just… let it go?”
“Not let go,” Eldrin said. “But perhaps… make peace. With yourself, and with the mountain.”
Before Lira could respond, Garrick burst in from the back room where he’d been fiddling with the radio.
“I’ve got something,” he announced. “Faint, but it’s definitely your base camp. They’re worried sick about you and the clients.”
Lira’s heart leapt. “What about my group? Are they alright?”
Garrick’s expression sobered. “Made it back to camp eventually, but in rough shape. Sounds like they got caught in some nasty weather.”
Guilt and relief warred in Lira’s chest. “I need to get back. Now.”
Garrick nodded. “Storm’s letting up a bit. If we leave soon, we might be able to make it before dark.”
“We?” Lira asked.
“You don’t think I’m letting you go alone, do you?” Garrick snorted. “I know these back trails better than anyone. ‘Cept maybe this old coot.” He jerked a thumb at Eldrin.
“I’m coming too,” Eldrin announced, struggling to sit up.
“Like hell you are,” Garrick retorted. “You can barely stand.”
“This is my mess,” Eldrin insisted. “My responsibility.”
Lira looked between them, confused. “What are you talking about? What mess?”
Eldrin sighed heavily. “The disturbance in the mountain’s energy… I fear I may have inadvertently made it worse. In my attempts to study it, to contain it…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I need to make this right.”
Garrick still looked dubious, but after a moment he threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine. But you ride in the sled. I’m not carrying your scrawny behind up that mountain.”
As they gathered supplies and prepared to leave, a quiet tension filled the air. Lira found herself stealing glances at Eldrin, wondering just what he had done up there on the mountain. And what, exactly, they might be walking into.
The wind picked up as they stepped outside, carrying with it the faintest whisper of a familiar voice.
Lira…
She shivered, pulling her coat tighter. It was just the wind, she told herself. Just the wind.
But deep down, she knew better.
The mountain was calling. And this time, she would answer.
The journey back up the mountain was slow and treacherous. Though the worst of the storm had passed, visibility remained poor. More than once they had to backtrack, searching for safer routes through the maze of ice and stone.
Lira took point, with Kaz ranging ahead to scout the path. Garrick followed, pulling the sled bearing Eldrin. The old man’s face was drawn with pain, but his eyes remained alert, scanning their surroundings constantly.
As they climbed higher, an oppressive weight seemed to settle over them. The very air felt thick, charged with an energy Lira couldn’t name but instinctively recoiled from.
“We’re getting close,” Eldrin called out during one of their rest breaks. “Can you feel it?”
Lira nodded reluctantly. “What is it? What’s causing this?”
Eldrin’s expression was grave. “A convergence of energies. Natural and… otherwise. My research opened pathways that should have remained closed. And now…”
He trailed off as a low rumble shook the mountainside. Lira stumbled, catching herself on a nearby boulder.
“We need to move,” Garrick growled. “Now.”
They pressed on, the rumbling growing steadily louder. The wind picked up, carrying with it fragments of sound - whispers, cries, the echo of falling rocks.
Lira…
She gritted her teeth, trying to block out the phantom voice. Not real, she told herself. Focus.
They rounded a bend and Lira stopped short, breath catching in her throat. Ahead lay a narrow pass flanked by towering cliffs. The same pass where, five years ago…
“No,” she whispered. “Not here.”
“Lira?” Garrick’s voice seemed to come from far away. “What is it?”
She couldn’t tear her eyes from the jagged rocks below. Somewhere down there, buried under years of snow and ice, lay the broken body of her sister.
The rumbling intensified. Cracks spider-webbed across the cliff face.
“We have to go back,” Lira said, voice shaking. “We can’t be here. We can’t-”
A deafening crack split the air. A massive section of the cliff face began to slide.
“Run!” Garrick bellowed.
Lira turned to flee, but her legs wouldn’t move. She stood frozen as the avalanche of rock and snow roared towards her.
A weight slammed into her from behind, knocking her clear. She tumbled, the world spinning crazily around her. When she came to a stop, ears ringing, she found herself in a small hollow formed by fallen boulders.
Kaz crouched over her, whining urgently. Beyond him, she could see only swirling snow and dust.
“Garrick?” she called weakly. “Eldrin?”
No answer.
As the dust began to settle, Lira struggled to her feet. The pass had been completely transformed, choked with debris. Of Garrick and Eldrin, there was no sign.
“No,” Lira breathed. “No, no, no.”
She scrambled over the rocks, heedless of the danger. “Garrick! Eldrin! Can you hear me?”
Only the moan of the wind answered.
Lira sank to her knees, overwhelmed by despair. She’d failed them. Just like she’d failed Mira.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
The wind rose to a howl. Snow swirled around her, so thick she could barely see. And in that maelstrom of white, a figure began to take shape.
Lira’s breath caught. It couldn’t be. And yet…
“Mira?” she breathed.
The figure solidified. A young woman, achingly familiar. But wrong somehow. Too pale, too still. Empty eyes fixed on Lira with an unsettling intensity.
“You left me,” Mira’s voice echoed, as cold as the wind. “You let me fall.”
“No,” Lira choked out. “I tried to save you. I tried-”
“Liar,” Mira hissed. The air around her crackled with malevolent energy. “You were afraid. Weak. You let the mountain take me.”
“That’s not true!” Lira cried. But even as she said it, doubt gnawed at her. Hadn’t she hesitated that day? Held back when she should have pushed forward?
“The mountain remembers,” Mira intoned. “And now it will take you too.”
The spectral figure lunged forward, icy hands closing around Lira’s throat. She gasped, struggling weakly as the cold seeped into her very bones.
“Lira!” A voice called from far away. “Lira, fight it!”
Eldrin. He was alive.
Lira’s eyes flew open. The thing wearing Mira’s face snarled, fingers tightening.
“This isn’t real,” Lira wheezed. “You’re not… my sister.”
The creature’s form flickered, features twisting into something inhuman.
“Lira!” Eldrin’s voice again, closer now. “It feeds on guilt, on regret. Don’t let it in!”
With a monumental effort, Lira wrenched herself free of the entity’s grasp. She scrambled backwards, gasping for air.
“You’re right,” she panted. “I was afraid. I did hesitate. But I never stopped trying to save her. Never.”
The creature howled, lunging for her again. But this time, Lira stood her ground.
“I loved my sister,” she said, voice growing stronger. “I still do. And I know she wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want me to carry this guilt forever.”
“Lira…” the thing wearing Mira’s face wavered, its voice a pitiful whine.
“No,” Lira said firmly. “You’re not her. You’re just an echo. A memory twisted by pain and regret. But I won’t let you haunt me anymore.”
She took a step forward. The entity recoiled.
“I’m sorry, Mira,” Lira said softly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. But I forgive myself. And I hope… I hope you can forgive me too.”
A keening wail rose from the creature. It thrashed, form blurring and shifting. And then, like mist in sunlight, it began to dissipate.
For a moment, Lira thought she saw Mira’s face - her real face, warm and full of love. A sad smile, a nod of acknowledgement. Then it was gone.
The howling wind died away. The oppressive energy that had weighed on them lifted. Lira sank to her knees, exhausted but somehow lighter than she’d felt in years.
“Lira!” Eldrin’s voice, ragged but joyful. “Thank the gods, you’re alright.”
She looked up to see Eldrin limping towards her, supported by a battered but very much alive Garrick. Kaz bounded ahead of them, nearly bowling Lira over in his eagerness to reach her.
“What… what happened?” she asked, voice hoarse.
“You faced your demons, child,” Eldrin said, smiling tiredly. “And in doing so, you may have saved us all.”
Garrick nodded. “The energy up here - it’s different now. Calmer.”
Lira looked around. The pass was still choked with debris from the rockslide, but the oppressive atmosphere had lifted. Even the air seemed clearer somehow.
“Is it over?” she asked.
Eldrin’s expression sobered. “For now. But the mountain’s power remains. It will need tending, understanding.”
“I’ll help,” Lira found herself saying. “If you’ll teach me.”
Surprise flickered across Eldrin’s face, followed by a warm smile. “I’d be honored.”
As they made their way carefully down the mountain, Lira felt a profound sense of peace settle over her. The guilt and grief that had weighed on her for so long hadn’t vanished entirely. But it no longer threatened to crush her.
She paused, looking back at the looming peaks of the Broken Range. For a moment, she thought she saw a familiar silhouette waving from a distant ridge. Then it was gone, nothing but wind and stone.
“Goodbye, Mira,” Lira whispered. “I love you.”
Then she turned and continued down the path, towards new beginnings and the promise of healing. The mountain’s song echoed behind her, no longer a lament, but a melody of hope.