The wind howled across Frostpeak’s jagged face, carrying ice crystals that stung Lira’s exposed cheeks. She paused in her ascent, pressing a gloved hand against the mountain’s frigid surface. Though she couldn’t hear the mountain’s groans and creaks, she felt them resonating through her bones.
Kovo’s gruff voice cut through the gale. “We should turn back!” he shouted, his words lost to Lira’s ears but clear in the exaggerated movements of his wind-chapped lips. “Storm’s getting worse!”
Lira shook her head, determination etched across her features. She’d come too far to give up now. This was her chance to prove herself, to show that her deafness wasn’t a limitation but a strength. She tapped her chest twice and pointed upward, their pre-arranged signal to continue.
Kovo’s weathered face creased with worry, but he nodded reluctantly. He’d seen that look in climbers’ eyes before—the hunger for the summit that clouded all judgment. It was the same look that had been in Mira’s eyes on that fateful day, just before the avalanche…
He pushed the memory aside and focused on securing their next anchor point. Lira was already moving again, her movements fluid and confident despite the treacherous conditions. Kovo had to admit, he’d never seen anyone read the mountain quite like she did.
As they climbed higher, the world narrowed to a realm of white and gray. Lira’s senses, always heightened to compensate for her lack of hearing, were on high alert. She felt the subtle shifts in the ice beneath her crampons, the minute vibrations that whispered of hidden crevasses and unstable snow.
Suddenly, she froze. Something was wrong. The mountain was trembling in a way she’d never felt before. She urgently signaled to Kovo, but before he could respond, the world exploded into motion.
An avalanche, massive and merciless, came roaring down the mountainside. Lira’s world tilted as she was ripped from her precarious perch. She tumbled through a maelstrom of snow and ice, her training kicking in as she fought to stay on top of the deadly flow.
When the chaos finally subsided, Lira found herself half-buried in snow, her body aching but miraculously intact. She clawed her way to the surface, gasping for air and searching frantically for any sign of Kovo.
Nothing. The pristine white expanse showed no trace of her guide.
Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but Lira forced it down. She had to find Kovo. Closing her eyes, she pressed her hands to the snow, reaching out with her other senses. There—a faint vibration, barely perceptible but unmistakably human.
Lira dug with desperate speed, her hands soon bloody despite her gloves. Finally, she uncovered Kovo’s face, pale and still. She pulled him free, her heart pounding as she checked for signs of life.
He wasn’t breathing.
Lira began chest compressions, silently willing Kovo to live. Tears froze on her cheeks as she worked, refusing to give up. After what felt like an eternity, Kovo’s body convulsed, and he coughed weakly.
Relief flooded through Lira, but it was short-lived. They were stranded high on the mountain, battered by the storm, with night falling fast. Their supplies were scattered or buried, and Kovo was in no condition to move.
As the temperature plummeted, Lira knew their only hope was to find shelter—and fast. She helped Kovo to his feet, supporting much of his weight as they stumbled through the deepening snow. The storm raged around them, visibility dropping to almost nothing.
Just when Lira thought they couldn’t go on, she felt it—a change in the air, a stillness that didn’t belong. Squinting through the whiteout, she saw a dark shape looming ahead. A cave!
They half-crawled inside, collapsing onto the cold stone floor. Lira quickly set about creating a makeshift shelter, using what little gear they had left to insulate them from the deadly chill.
As she worked, a flicker of movement caught her eye. She spun around, heart racing, to find herself face-to-face with a stranger. He was tall and gaunt, with hair as white as the snow outside and eyes that seemed to glow with an inner frost.
The man’s lips moved, but Lira couldn’t make out the words. She tapped her ear and shook her head, then gestured to Kovo’s unconscious form.
Understanding dawned in the stranger’s eyes. He nodded and moved to examine Kovo, his hands hovering just above the injured man’s body. To Lira’s amazement, a soft blue light emanated from the stranger’s palms, and Kovo’s labored breathing eased.
The stranger turned back to Lira and slowly signed, “I am Thorne. You are safe here.”
Lira’s eyes widened in surprise and gratitude. She signed back, introducing herself and explaining their situation.
Thorne’s expression grew grave. He gestured for Lira to follow him deeper into the cave, which opened into a larger chamber filled with strange, glowing crystals and intricate ice sculptures.
“The mountain is angry,” Thorne signed. “The storm is unnatural. Someone has disturbed the ancient magics that sleep within Frostpeak’s heart.”
Lira frowned, struggling to comprehend. Magic? It seemed impossible, and yet… she had seen the light from Thorne’s hands, felt the unnatural fury of the storm. She signed back, “How can we stop it?”
Thorne’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of approval and sadness. “It won’t be easy. The ritual requires three: the Listener, the Guide, and the Mage. That’s us. But it’s dangerous. We may not survive.”
Lira didn’t hesitate. She nodded firmly, then signed, “I’ll do whatever it takes. But Kovo is hurt. How can he help?”
As if summoned by her words, a groan came from the cave’s entrance. Kovo was awake, struggling to sit up. Lira rushed to his side, supporting him as Thorne approached.
“Where… where are we?” Kovo rasped, his eyes widening as he took in their strange surroundings and Thorne’s otherworldly appearance.
Lira quickly filled him in, her hands flying as she explained the situation. Kovo’s face grew increasingly pale, but a familiar determination settled over his features.
“I’ve spent my life on this mountain,” he said, his voice stronger now. “If she needs our help, I’m in.”
Thorne nodded solemnly. “Rest now,” he signed. “We begin at dawn.”
As Lira settled into an uneasy sleep, her dreams were filled with swirling snow and whispered secrets. She awoke to Thorne gently shaking her shoulder, the cave dimly lit by the crystals’ ethereal glow.
“It’s time,” he signed.
They made their way to the cave’s mouth, where Kovo waited, looking better but still unsteady. Outside, the storm had intensified, wind shrieking across the mountainside with unnatural fury.
Thorne led them to a narrow ledge, barely visible in the swirling snow. As they inched along the treacherous path, Lira felt the mountain’s rage vibrating through her entire body. It was almost overwhelming, but she forced herself to focus, to listen deeper.
Beneath the chaos, she sensed something else—a rhythm, ancient and powerful, like the heartbeat of the earth itself. She gestured urgently to Thorne, trying to convey what she felt.
The ice mage’s eyes widened in understanding. He raised his hands, pale blue energy crackling between his fingers. The wind around them calmed slightly, creating a small bubble of relative stillness.
“The mountain’s heart,” Thorne signed quickly. “You’ve found it. We need to reach it and restore balance.”
Kovo pointed ahead, where the ledge widened into a small plateau. “There,” he shouted over the wind, forgetting for a moment that Lira couldn’t hear him. “That’s where the old legends say the spirit of Frostpeak dwells.”
They pressed on, fighting against the elements every step of the way. As they neared the plateau, the very air seemed to thicken, pushing against them like an invisible wall.
Thorne’s magic faltered, the protective bubble collapsing. The full fury of the storm hit them, nearly sweeping Kovo off his feet. Lira grabbed him, anchoring them both to the mountain face.
Through the maelstrom, Lira saw it—a massive formation of ice, pulsing with an inner light. The heart of the mountain. But something was wrong. Jagged cracks ran through its surface, dark energy seeping from the wounds.
Thorne gestured frantically, his signs almost lost in the chaos. “The ritual! We must hurry!”
He began to chant, his voice lost to the wind but his power visible in the swirling patterns of frost that formed around him. Kovo placed his hands on the ice, his intimate knowledge of the mountain lending strength to the spell.
Lira closed her eyes, pressing her entire body against Frostpeak’s ancient stone. She opened herself fully to the mountain’s song, letting the vibrations flow through her.
The dissonance was deafening, centuries of pain and anger crashing over her. But beneath it all, she felt the true voice of Frostpeak—majestic, serene, and terribly alone.
Lira didn’t think. She simply reacted, pouring all of her empathy and understanding into that connection. She felt Thorne’s magic and Kovo’s strength joining with her own, creating a bridge between human and mountain.
For a moment that stretched into eternity, Lira ceased to be herself. She was the wind and the stone, the ice and the sky. She felt the mountain’s agony as her own, and offered comfort in return.
Slowly, gradually, the chaotic energies began to calm. The cracks in the heart of ice sealed themselves, the malevolent darkness retreating. The storm’s fury gentled into a soft snowfall.
Lira came back to herself slowly, tears freezing on her cheeks. She felt different, as if some fundamental part of her had been forever changed by the experience.
Kovo and Thorne were watching her with a mixture of awe and concern. “Are you alright?” Kovo asked, remembering to sign along with his words.
Lira nodded, a smile breaking across her face. She could still feel Frostpeak’s presence, a warm hum in the back of her mind. For the first time in her life, the world didn’t seem quiet at all.
Thorne approached, his expression solemn. “You’ve done something remarkable,” he signed. “The mountain has chosen you as its voice. It’s a great honor, and a great responsibility.”
Lira’s eyes widened as the full implications sank in. She looked out over the now-peaceful expanse of Frostpeak, feeling a deep sense of belonging.
Kovo cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “I, uh, I owe you an apology, Lira. I underestimated you. You’re one hell of a mountaineer.”
Lira’s smile widened as she signed back, “We make a good team. All of us.”
As the sun broke through the clouds, painting the snow-covered peaks in shades of gold and rose, the three unlikely allies began their descent. Lira knew that life would never be the same—but she was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.
For now, though, she simply reveled in the beauty around her and the newfound music in her soul. Frostpeak’s song sang through her, a melody of ice and stone, of danger and wonder.
And Lira, the deaf girl who had always longed to hear the mountain’s voice, finally felt truly, completely alive.