Lorian was alone at the summit. Or at least, he thought he was.
The wind moved around him, gentle yet persistent, as if an unseen presence were brushing against his skin. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, where valleys and hills stretched endlessly below. But inside him, there was only emptiness.
He had reached the summit. But… why?
He had questioned this before, but now, standing here, beneath the cold stones of the peak, that question had transformed into a gnawing doubt, a parasite burrowing into his mind.
Then, the wind shifted.
A whisper, faint but undeniable, brushed against his ears.
"What's wrong? Not what you expected?"
Lorian turned sharply. No one was there. And yet, he wasn't alone.
The wind carried another voice, clearer this time.
"Are you going to climb every mountain you hear stories about?"
Lorian frowned. He couldn't see the source, but he could feel it. Was it a ghost? A spirit? Or was the summit itself speaking to him?
"Who are you?" he asked.
A laugh echoed, but it had no origin, no direction.
"Does it matter? Everyone who comes here asks the same question. Who are you? Why are you here? But the real question is: Why are YOU here?"
Lorian clenched his fists.
"I had to reach this summit."
The wind howled, its voice growing sharper.
"Why? Who told you that? What did you think you would find? Power? Wisdom? Freedom? Or did you climb just to climb?"
Lorian fought against the doubt creeping into him. "If this journey was a mistake, then why am I here? Why are you speaking to me?"
The whisper softened but did not fade.
"Because you are just like the others. Because you are searching for an answer. But tell me, if you believe every legend and climb every peak, will you ever stop? Or will you just keep looking for the next mountain?"
Lorian had no response.
The wind shifted again.
"Do you even know how many adventurers have come here before you? How many stood exactly where you are now, wrestling with the same doubts? But here's the truth—none of them found what they were looking for. Because they were all asking the wrong question."
Lorian looked up at the sky. The vast emptiness… Could that emptiness be the truth itself?
What would he do now?
He had reached the summit. But had he really arrived anywhere at all?
Then, the wind turned sharp, cold. This time, the voice carried a deeper weight, a whisper woven into the very air.
"A god got bored. Lured you into climbing here."
Lorian's eyes widened.
"Filled your head with half-truths and broken memories. Crafted fake trials as you ascended. Watched you, every step of the way."
Lorian's brow furrowed. "That's impossible."
At that moment, a soft rustling came from behind him—the sound of wings unfolding. He spun around just in time to see a black raven taking flight, disappearing into the distance.
The voice grew more amused.
"Your will is weak. If even a god's tricks can fool you, we have a problem."
Lorian's breath quickened.
He hesitated, and in that moment, he realized something chilling. If his memories had been manipulated, if this journey had been nothing more than a game played by a higher power…
Then who was he, really?
And more importantly… what would he do now?
The voice carried on, its amusement laced with a mocking undertone.
"It's hard to play with someone's mind, but they did a great job on you. Right now, you don't even know your past or your future, do you?"
Lorian clenched his teeth. "Who are you?"
But the only response was the howling wind.
"Does it really matter?" the voice taunted. "Would knowing my name change anything? Would it give you the answers you're looking for?"
Lorian tightened his fists. He had reached the summit, yet the void inside him only grew deeper.
"They told you what to believe," the voice continued. "That you would face trials, that you would fight for a purpose. But what if all of it was just to push you forward?"
Lorian felt betrayed—by the world, by himself. If his own memories were suspect, then which of them were even real?
The voice chuckled.
"Think. You don't even know which mountain you climbed. Maybe the one who led you here just wanted to watch you struggle for their own amusement. And like a puppet, you danced."
A single thought echoed in Lorian's mind:
"Why… am I really here?"
The voice laughed again, the wind carrying its amusement.
"You're just one of many, appearing out of nowhere, climbing because you think it means something. If I told you the god's name, would you run off to fight them? In your current state? Please, they must have had a great time playing with you."
Lorian's eyes narrowed, his anger rising.
"Don't mock me."
The voice sighed. "Ah, see? That's exactly what I expected. Just a little nudge, and you lash out without questioning anything. That's why you're so much fun."
Lorian tried to control his breathing, but every word was another thorn of doubt sinking into him.
"Ask yourself, Lorian," the voice said, its tone suddenly more serious. "Did you come here by your own will? Or did something lead you here?"
The wind laughed once more, but this time, it carried an undeniable finality.
"Enough. Leave my mountain. You're an uninvited guest."
Lorian gritted his teeth. "And who are you to drive me away?"
For a moment, the wind fell silent, as if the world itself had paused. Then, it returned—fiercer, heavier.
"Who do you think this mountain belongs to, adventurer? Every soul that stands here is just another trace in the wind. You are no different."
Lorian took a step forward, defiant, but suddenly, the ground beneath him felt foreign. The summit was rejecting him.
"I came here, and I won't leave without answers."
The voice let out a low hum of amusement.
"Then wait for morning. Maybe by then, you'll finally understand what it is you're really searching for. And if you still think it's worth anything… perhaps, then, you'll be worth talking to."
The wind stilled, but Lorian knew—he was not alone.