The world had been grey for so long that Lucas almost didn't notice the change.
His boots scraped over the worn stone path, one slow step after another. The wind had died down again, leaving only the sound of their breathing and the quiet crunch of gravel underfoot.
He blinked, then squinted ahead.
There was something different.
The mist that had smothered the mountain for what felt like an eternity was… thinner. A soft, pale glow shimmered above, faint but present. Not the cold violet glow of the moon that never moved, but something warmer. Sharper.
"Hey," he called, his voice low, hoarse. "Do you see that?"
Lyss didn't answer right away. She stopped beside him, tilting her head up. Her eyes narrowed.
Then she nodded.
"Yes. It's light."
Lucas frowned, rubbing his eyes. "Like... real light?"
"Maybe." She took a step forward, faster now. "We should move."
Lucas followed, his body aching but suddenly more alert.
For the first time in what felt like weeks, there was something ahead that wasn't endless stone or choking mist.
A promise.
A change.
Hope.
The light grew stronger as they climbed.
Not sudden. Not blinding. Just… clearer.
Each step dissolved more of the fog around them, like they were pushing through the edge of a dream. The heavy grey turned translucent. Then faint. Then—gone.
Lucas blinked rapidly as the world around him shifted.
They stepped past the final veil of mist—
—and into sunlight.
Real, golden sunlight.
The kind that warmed your skin, that shimmered against stone, that cast shadows.
Lucas froze in place.
Above them, the sky stretched open for the first time. It wasn't purple. It wasn't drowning in clouds or dominated by an unmoving moon.
It was blue.
And high.
A burning sun hung just above the horizon, washing the peaks in gold and crimson. The mist swirled far below, a sea of silver waves stretching endlessly downward.
They had climbed above it.
Lyss shielded her eyes with one hand, staring up at the sky in silence.
Lucas swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. "Well… shit."
For the first time since arriving in this damned place, it actually felt like a world.
Alive.
Breathing.
Changing.
And they were in it.
The light was beautiful.
But the cold hit harder.
Lucas pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as they moved forward, boots crunching against a new surface—snow.
Thin at first, but growing thicker with every step.
The mountaintop, now revealed under the golden sun, was a jagged cathedral of stone and frost. White patches clung to the ridges like scars, and a layer of frost coated the dark rocks, catching the light and scattering it in a thousand quiet reflections.
Above them, the peak loomed in the distance—sharp, imposing, impossibly high… but finally visible.
And reachable.
They had broken through the fog, but now, something colder waited for them above.
Lucas exhaled slowly, watching the cloud of his breath curl upward.
'No more purple skies. Yes!!!'
He stared at the snow beneath his boots. It crunched differently than anything he'd felt in The Crucible so far—soft, brittle, natural.
The terrain ahead was still steep, but no longer hidden.
No more secrets.
Just effort.
Just climb.
Behind him, Lyss was silent, her eyes fixed on the distant summit.
No words were exchanged.
But both of them understood.
They could finally see the end.
And that was enough to keep going.
Lucas looked up again.
The sky was endless.
Clear and deep, a shade of blue so vivid it almost hurt his eyes. Wisps of clouds drifted lazily above, their edges painted gold by the rising sun. No more glowing moon. No more purple.
Just sky.
It felt... alien.
More foreign than any monster they had fought. More surreal than the mountain of black stone and mist.
'It's the kind of thing you don't realize you missed until it's back.'
He let the silence stretch, breathing in the freezing air, letting it burn in his lungs.
Behind him, Lyss stood motionless. Her cloak fluttered in the wind, her white hair dampened slightly by the snow but catching the light like strands of silver thread.
She didn't speak.
Didn't smile.
But something in her shoulders loosened—like a tension had been finally released.
Lucas turned his gaze back toward the peak.
Still far.
But
His lips curled into the ghost of a smirk.
Then he adjusted the straps of his pack, looked over his shoulder, and muttered, "You ready?"
Lyss nodded once.
They walked on.
They didn't speak for a long time.
The snow crunched beneath their feet as they moved slowly across the exposed slope, every step careful, deliberate. Wind bit at their clothes, tugging at their hoods and cloaks. The air was sharp, but clean.
They weren't just climbing anymore.
They were approaching something.
A final stretch.
A summit.
Lucas could feel the difference in every muscle. Not from fatigue—though that lingered like a shadow—but from something else.
Purpose.
The peak now existed. It wasn't a rumor, or a hope, or a lie hidden behind fog.
It was there.
Distant, yes.
But real.
And waiting.
Lyss stopped near a jagged ridge and looked back down the path they'd taken. The ocean of mist beneath them churned slowly, hiding the horrors they had left behind.
Then she turned, looking at Lucas. "We keep going."
Lucas nodded. "Yeah. No point stopping now."
They pressed forward, the mountain wind at their backs, the sky finally open above them.
The Crucible had given them a glimpse of something more.
And they weren't about to look away.